10-96

From Saraid: Obviously all of my readers respond well to threats
<G>! I've gotten a lot of mail, but let me say it again: if you
don't write I won't.
Summaries are now posted at Kelsy's, up to the current story --
no hints!

I'll be taking a break after this one to pursue more commercial
projects. Part 9 should be up by the end of December (sorry!:) --
if it's not, write me and bitch so I'll get to it. <G> Recent
editing of the storyline says there will only be 11 parts now.

details
-------
Isclaimerdae: esethay aractersche elongbay otae ischray Artercae
ndday entae irteenthay roductionspae. Onay ffenseoae isay
ntendediae, Iay ustjae antway otae laypay ithwae hemtay orfae aey
ilewhae. Eythay illwae ebay eturnedrae harmedunay nddae
ossiblypay apperierhae. Ymay anksthae otay Illiangae Dersonanday
nddae Avidday Uchovnydae orfay ivinggae emay osae anymay reatgae
ingsthay otae orkway ithwae. Kayoay?

(hey, nobody said it had to be in english)

Taking votes on baby names...girl *and* boy. Send me your
suggestions and I'll compile them to tag onto a later story.

Big THANKS to Rhonnda and Elizabeth, two great correspondents!
And *DOUBLE* to Stef, for duty above and beyond; The sono
scenario was *her* idea, I just fleshed it out...

I rate this R for language and content. MSR, mostly MSA, and
*Dancer*. If you haven't read the first seven parts, I give
up. You're a lost cause and you shouldn't be here. Shoo! Shoo!
Come back when you know what's going on! :)






                       WALLS#8: Stacking Boulders
                       --------------------------                
                                by Saraid
                                     
                                    
part#1
------
one on top of another

     The clock read 10:08 a.m. when Mulder glanced up from his
research to see his stoic, composed, unflappable partner lurch
from her chair and dashed out of the office. 
     Again.
     With a sigh he pushed himself away from his desk, opening
the second left-hand drawer -- the shallow one where he used to
keep his junk food stash -- and pulled a clean washcloth from the
pile stacked there, next to the paper cups. He took a cup, too.
As he closed the drawer he scraped his raw palm, the one he had
roughed with a pumice stone last night, across the edge. The
stinging pain was soothing.

     The sound of tortured retching hung in the air as he walked
into the ladies room. Scully was the only woman on this level and
the place was all her's, he wasn't worried about anyone objecting
to his presence.
     He was worried about Scully.
     Leaning on a sink on her elbows she hunched over and tried
to catch her breath. He saw that she hadn't turned on the water
this time. Her hair hung limply around her face. Stepping up
behind her he brushed it back with gentle fingers, leaned to turn
on the tap, then put an arm around her waist as another spasm
racked her slender frame.
     Wetting the cloth in the next sink, Mulder folded it and lay
it across the back of her neck, then held her quietly while she
finished, setting the cup on the edge where she could reach it.
     After a while -- he wasn't sure if it had been ten minutes
or twenty -- she rinsed her mouth several times and then
straightened. She swayed and he pulled her close, then simply
lifted her in his arms, cradling her to his chest.
     "Put me down." she said, but there was no fight in it. She
lay against him, eyes closed.
     "Enough's enough Scully." it came out harsher then he'd
intended and he deliberately softened it. "Dr.Hall said to take
you to the ER if this happened again. You haven't kept anything
down in two days. I'm taking you to the hospital."
     "No!" she struggled in earnest and he set her carefully on
her feet, stepping away from her, watching worriedly as she
fought for balance. "I can do my job, Mulder!" she hissed,
irrationally angry with him.
     "Which one?!" he yelled suddenly. "FBI agent or mother,
Scully?" he continued with a whisper, so soft after the outburst.
"Which one are you today?"
     Shocked, she stared at him, tears filling her eyes. He saw
and made an unconscious promise to punish himself for them.
     *Damn hormones* Scully thought, wiping her eyes roughly. But
his words hurt.
     He met her stare and she forgave him when she saw the pain
in his eyes, a pain she recognized. He was trying so hard, this
was so hard for him, and she wasn't making it any easier.
     "You were up all night again." his anger always faded
quickly, unless it was directed at himself. 
     She managed a sickly smile, holding out a hand. He took it
and they began walking slowly down the hall.
     "Okay." she gave in gracefully., knowing this was hurting
him far worse than it hurt her. And he *was* right. Darn it.
"I'll call Dr.Hall while you call Skinner."
     His grimace made it almost worthwhile.

     "Dancer's apartment-hunting." Mulder said flatly into the
phone. "He doesn't have a cellular yet."
     On hold with the doctor, Scully watched his face twist.
     "I'll take very good care of her, sir."
     He hung the phone up with exaggerated gentleness, as if he
was afraid he would slam it. Scully was going to say something
when the secretary came back on.
     "Dr.Hall says you should go to Cedar and ask for Dr.Valdez
in the ER. He'll be expecting you and she'll be there after
office
hours."
     "I'll get the car." Mulder got up, grabbing his jacket and
slinging it on. "Meet me in back."
     He left while she quizzed the secretary. 
     "After office hours? How long will I be there....?"


     Cedar was better organized than any ER Mulder had ever been
in. They were waiting for Scully, had the paperwork done and a
room set aside for her. Good thing, too, because she made him
pull over twice in the twenty-minute drive so she could hurl
hanging out the door. It was starting to hurt, too, he could
tell. She had that 'I'm-not-going-to-bend-over-no-matter-how-bad-
it-hurts' posture that he'd used so many times.
     "Are you the husband?" a small black nurse stepped in front
of him as another woman wheeled Scully down the hall.
     "We're not married." he summoned his warmest little-boy
grin. As usual, it worked.
     "Give us a few minutes to get her changed and then you can
come in."
     "I'll make a couple of phone calls." he pulled out his cel
phone and dialed the office. Dancer should check in soon, he
needed to be here to keep their cover.

     He held her hand while they got the IV started. She was so
dehydrated it took four tries, and she winced a little more with
each.
     The doctor came and went, it seemed like he was just passing
through.
     "We'll get some fluids into you and try you on a couple of
new anti-nausea medications." he checked the chart and scarcely
looked at Scully. Mulder flushed with anger but Scully kept her
eyes closed. She was so tired. She didn't ask him any questions
or anything, just rolled over for the shot and clutched Mulder's
hand.    
     Fifteen minutes later she opened her eyes and smiled faintly
at him.
     Sitting on the bed beside her, he leaned close, his lips in
her hair.
     "This is better." he half-scolded.
     "I'll never admit it." she closed her eyes again and sighed
deeply, wishing he would hold her. She was cold and felt exposed,
vulnerable.
     "Mulder." she sighed, pulling her hand from his and wrapping
it in is shirt front. "I'm cold..."
     He stiffened and began to pull away, she could feel his
reluctance. He hadn't *touched* her since they found out three
weeks ago.
     It was starting to piss her off.
     "*Mulder*..." she opened her eyes and there was a threat in
her voice.
     "Dana! Honey!"
     Mulder hopped off the bed as soon as he heard the cheerful
voice, Scully releasing him resentfully as Dancer bounded into
the room, as usual using far more energy than the action
required, the petite black nurse hot on his heels.
     "Only immediate family allowed, *sir*!"
     "I'm the father!" Ru was by the bed, leaning over, pulling
Scully into his arms as he sat. She snuggled close with a grin at
Mulder, who shrugged. The short man was so warm...smoothing her
hair, he held her.
     The nurse glared at Mulder, who didn't care enough to try
the grin that might have saved him.
     "So who are you?" the words dripped menace.
     "Her partner." he shrugged again, leaning against the wall.
Experimentally he thumped his head once, softly. He turned his
attention back to Dancer as the nurse glared, unsure how to deal
with the situation. "Hey." Dancer smiled at him, understanding
in his eyes. "Flamenco Fred. I'm headed back to the office. I'm
gonna call Margaret and I'll see you tonight."
     "No." Scully's voice was muffled against Dancer's thick
chest. "Not my mom. I don't want her to worry."
     "You're going to have to tell her eventually, Dana." Dancer
stroked her hair.
     "Not yet." she said insistently and Dancer shrugged at
Mulder.
     "Soon." Mulder warned.
     "I found a place." Dancer said as he left, speaking to his
back. "We'll talk about it tonight. Get in early, Mulder!"
     Mulder didn't answer and the little nurse watched him all
the way to the door.

     A note on the office door said that Skinner wanted to see
him. In the elevator he did a quick mental review -- the last
field report was in, the expense account signed off -- must be a
case. Or the AD just felt like yelling at him. 
     The prospect cheered him disproportionately.

     "Agent Mulder." Skinner didn't stand when he came in, a good
sign. "How is Agent Scully?"
     He wouldn't have called him up here just for that.
     "I left the hospital after Agent Dancer arrived, sir. She
seemed to be resting comfortably."
     "The baby is in no danger?" Skinner was actually concerned.
     "I'm under the impression it's just really bad morning
sickness." Mulder said calmly. "The doctor says it will stop
eventually."
     "I'm considering changing her schedule." Skinner shoved a
closed file across the desk. "I'm not comfortable, Agent Mulder,
with Agent Scully doing field work at this time. As her
department head, what is your assessment?"
     Mulder answered immediately.
     "I agree, sir."
     "This case in particular I find disturbing." Skinner added.
     Their eyes met and each saw understanding in the other's.
     "I will speak with Agent Scully." Skinner said.
     "Thank you, sir." Mulder was sincere. Skinner took another
file off the stack. Mulder left, skimming the file as he walked,
grimacing.
     No, this *wasn't* a good one for Scully. Not now.

     
     He let himself into the apartment quietly. He knew Dancer
would hear him either way, but he didn't want to wake Scully if
she was sleeping.
     With a sudden thought he didn't allow himself to finish he
stopped with the door half open and looked back and up to the
sky, searching for the moon.
     Almost hidden by thick grey clouds, it shone dimly, its
shape full but irregular.
     Hunter's moon. He would have to stay the night.
     damn. Scully didn't need him around now. He was too strung
out, too tense, anticipating the fight he knew they were going to
have tomorrow, and his body was aching to be close to hers.
     He went in and looked around. The friendly room seemed dark,
and not from a lack of light.
     It also seemed to be empty.
     Dancer wouldn't have left her alone...
     "*Mulder*." he turned quickly and the dark man was there, in
front of him though he saw no movement. "*Where have you been*?"
his normally soft voice was low and harsh.
     "I'm sorry." Mulder was careful to keep his hands where
Dancer could see them, he looked just a little bit crazy. It
*could* have been the light. "I forgot..." to check the moon?
That you needed to go out? What exactly was he supposed to say
here?
     "*Right*" Dancer drawled. There was a flicker of humor in
his glittering eyes, eyes that seemed very yellow right now,
especially when compared to their usual placid brown-black.
     It must be the light.
     "She said to tell you to come to bed." the shorter man
flowed past him like water. "Look at the apartment tomorrow -- I
left the ad on the table." he reached the door and went around it
like a shadow, gone into the night. Mulder listened but didn't
hear anything on the usually noisy stairs.
     Not that he expected to.
     With an effort he pushed Dancer's eccentricities (uh-huh.
right) out of his mind, locking up and creeping into the bedroom.
     She was curled around a pillow, a shaft of light from the
bathroom falling across her face, her hair deep red in the
shadow, still looking a little bit pale.
     He considered going back and sleeping on the couch, but part
of him rebelled.
     It was okay. He could handle it.
     Telling himself that he stripped to his boxers, then went
for a shower. The nausea had made her over-sensitive to smells
and it had been a long day.
     She came into his arms with sleepy eagerness, pressing
herself to him.
     "Shhh...Scully." he whispered against her neck, holding her
tightly. "You need to rest."
     "Mmmm. Mulder." she sighed and relaxed in his arms, back to
sleep.
     He held her and watched her sleep. And chewed a neat little
hole in the middle knuckle of his right first finger,
meditatively licking the blood as it slowly oozed. 
     It helped.

     Mulder rolled over and was out of bed with a lunge,
abandoning her warmth, reaching blindly for his clothes.
     "Mulder?" she was awake, but sleepy and confused.
     "I'm late!" he said pulling on pants and shoes.
     "Wait for me." she sat up too quickly and groaned. He
dropped his shirt and came around the bed to sit beside her.
     "Isn't it Saturday?" she managed, looking distinctly green.
     Oh. Yeah. "Where'd you put the new meds?" 
     "Kitchen. By the sink." she whispered. "Ohhh...." he pulled
away as she ran for the bathroom.
     He got the two brown bottles from the kitchen, nuking a cup
of the herbal tea Dr.Hall had recommended. He didn't see Dancer
and briefly hoped the other man hadn't gotten into any trouble.
     The shower was running. Good. That would make her feel
better. He hoped Dancer got back soon, he didn't want to leave
her alone, but he had to do the background on this case and catch
a flight this afternoon. They were expecting him in San Antonio
by 5. 
     
     "Want to go look at that place Ru found?" she asked him an
hour later as they got into the car. The medicine had kicked
right in. She still looked pale but she'd had a cup of tea and a
piece of toast with jam that seemed to be sitting well on her
stomach.
     She looked so fragile in the plain black pantsuit that he
had to fight the urge to carry her back up and put her to bed.
Telling her about the case was out of the question.
     Maybe he could distract her and then she'd go home and rest.
He could get the background on the plane.
     "Where is it?" he pulled into the morning traffic.
     "East forty-second." her tone made it clear she didn't know
where that was.
     "Warehouse district." Mulder groaned inwardly. "By the
docks."
     She shook her head. "Never mind. I'm not raising a child
over there." she leaned back against the seat and closed her
eyes, her lids almost translucent.
     They were never going to find a place for all of them.
     "Did he say anything else about it?" Mulder got on the
freeway, remembering which exit he would have to take.
     "He said it was almost perfect." she didn't open her eyes.
     "Than maybe we should give it a chance." he reached for his
phone. "It can't hurt to look. What was that number?"
      
     "It's big." he commented forty-five minutes later, standing
in the living room of the apartment. It ran the length of a
converted warehouse, one long apartment on each side of a central
hall, stairs at one end, freight elevator at the other. Five
stories, this was on the top.
     "Two bedrooms, two bath and a den." the rental company had
sent Mr. Schuerman over promptly. "Room for a family."
     "What's this about 'artist space'?" Scully consulted the
description sheet he had given her.
     "It's over here." Schuerman, an average fellow in every way,
led them down the hall. There were three doors on the left and
two on the right, with one more at the very end of the hall that
opened to a cramped staircase. "It was converted to two
apartments originally but we had trouble keeping the top one
rented. So when they both came empty at the same time we decided
to offer them together." 
     Mulder hovered as Scully climbed the steep stairs to come
out in another long room, this one empty, about one-third the
size of the one below. It had skylights over half the length
of the slanted ceiling that let in pale light, a small kitchen
space on the far left and a wall with two doors at the other end.
     "Bathroom and closet." Schuerman nodded at them.
     "Where does that go?" Mulder pointed to the door in the
middle of the kitchen.
     "Roof access." Schuerman led them over and opened it with a
key from his crowded ring. "The elevator comes all the way up,
too, and opens directly to the roof. The view is nice." he said
as they stepped out onto the tar surface. "There's plenty of room
for a garden, if you like that sort of thing."
     Scully looked reluctant, but Mulder went eagerly to the
brick retaining wall -- chest high -- and looked over it. There
was a lot of space between the side of the loft and the wall,
enclosed on three sides.
     "Look, Scully." he was getting excited in spite of himself.
"We could put a fence up across there --" he indicated the open
end "--and have a safe play area. The air is better up here."
     She came to stand beside him and stared over the wall that
came up to her neck.
     "I can see the bay from here." she said softly, leaning
against him. He put a hand on her back, uncomfortable with a
witness around.
     "Ahab would have liked that." his voice was soft now.
     "There aren't any kids around to play with."
     "He'll be in daycare and then preschool. Kids will sleep
over. He'll have plenty of friends." Mulder leaned to whisper in
her ear.
     "It's too expensive."
     Mulder turned to Schuerman, who was going through his
dayplanner, politely ignoring them.
     "We have a -- friend -- who will be moving in with us."
Mulder hedged. "Can we get it as two separate places?"
     "As long as the lease gets signed."
     "So how much is it?"
     Schuerman smiled, cheerful. "It's not as bad as you might
think. We've had such trouble keeping the place full -- most
people don't want to live on this side of town, it's too far away
from everything -- so the price has been dropped a couple of
times. If you'll sign a two-year lease it'll be even lower." he
sounded enthusiastic, and named a figure that made Dana smile.
     "We can afford that." she said, turning away from him,
looking at Mulder. "I guess we should take it. We haven't found
anything else even close to what we need."
     "It would be good to move before I have to roll you up the
stairs." he grinned back.
     "Not to be nosy, but are the two of you expecting?"
Schuerman grinned wider. "Congratulations!"
     Mulder's smile vanished.
     "No." he snapped. Scully shook her head and smiled to
reassure the man, who looked bewildered.
     "Yes, I'm going to have a baby, but Mulder is my partner,
Mr.Schuerman. We're FBI agents. My...*boyfriend* is another
agent. But I want to be close to Mulder because he's gone a lot."
     "So I can help out." Mulder said defensively.
     Schuerman looked at them, one to the other.
     "Of course. That's very dedicated of you, Agent Mulder."
     FBI agents. He hoped they didn't cause any trouble. But they
should pass the credit check...he smiled again, thinking of his
percentage, he would get it as long as they lived there. His
wife, Emily, would be thrilled. Maybe they could go on that
cruise now...?
     He led them back downstairs to do the paperwork. Watching
the tall man's hand hover protectively on the tiny woman's back,
he wondered how much of what they had said was true, then scolded
himself mentally. They were partners, he knew what that meant. He
watched NYPD Blue. They might be closer than husband and wife,
but they would never be anything *else*. It was obvious her
partner was as excited about the baby as she was, but that was
just because he wanted her to be happy, of course. 
     That was a lucky baby, to have so many people to love
it, he thought. There would always be somebody around for it.

     "My doctor has cleared me for field work. *Sir*." Scully was
leaning over Skinner's desk, looking much more threatening than
a woman her size had a right to. Her stern boss leaned back
almost involuntarily.
     "I thought to spare you the emotional trauma of this case,
Agent Scully." he tried to defend his decision.
     "Perhaps I should only involve myself in cases concerning
men." she snapped. "And I'll have to rule out the ones with short
people. And redheads -- I couldn't handle a case with a redhead,
could I?!" her voice never changed volume but Skinner felt like
he'd been yelled at.
     "Unless you plan to replace me as Mulder's partner -- a move
I *would* protest formally -- then I'm on this case!" she whirled
on one foot and stormed out of the office without a backward
glance.
     Skinner leaned forward on the desk for a minute, then opened
the top drawer and fumbled for the tylenol bottle.
     God, she'd sounded like Mulder. 
     He found himself smiling slightly despite the pain of his
headache. 
     Mulder was going to get it.
     He felt better already.

     "MULDER!" the basement office door slammed.
     He winced and dropped the needle he'd been playing with into
the open drawer, slamming it shut as she came up behind him.
     Now she *was* yelling.
     "Where do you get off? Trying to *protect* me again?!"      
     He yanked his sleeve down to cover his wrist, dotted with
tiny beads of blood in an aesthetic pattern, and handed her
the file without a word. He'd known she wasn't going to be left
out, not really, but maybe he could salvage something...
distracted, she opened it and blanched a shade paler. He
wouldn't've thought that was possible.  
     The first picture was an 8X10 of a tiny little girl, looking
*unfinished*, waxy-looking skin lined with neat sutures, lying on
a white blanket in a patch of tall, purple-flowered weeds.
Somebody had laid a plain blue spiral notebook beside her for
scale. She wasn't even that long.
     Scully's hand trembled as she flipped the pictures.
     Seven. There were seven in all.
     Mulder was standing beside her now, ready to catch her if
she did something stupid like faint, and she couldn't meet his
eyes for several minutes.
     "Yes." he said at last, softly. "I am trying to protect
you."
     "It's my job." she wasn't angry now. "Tell me about it." she
pulled her desk chair over and sat close, the file open in her
lap.
     "Seven fetuses between five and seven months along, found
over the last three weeks. All delivered vaginally judging from
the cranial molding and lung compression. All apparently born
dead. It's obvious that autopsies were performed, but the organs
were returned to the body cavities. They were all found wrapped
in a plain white hospital blanket in different urban areas around
the city."     
     She cringed.
     "So why is it an X-file?"
     "There have been reports of strange lights, strange noises
all over the city, some coinciding with the discovery of the
bodies. No one had come forward to claim them and no kidnapping
reports have been filed. There have been three late pregnancy
miscarriages delivered in the city hospitals, but all of those
infants have been properly delivered to the morgue and their
families have made the appropriate arrangements."
     He leaned close, taking her hands in his, trying to put all
of his love into words not strong enough to hold it. 
     "*Dana*. Let me handle this. I'll send you the lab work,
consult with you, I won't cut you out completely. But you're
still not feeling well. And we have to move, we've given notice,
you have the sono next week. I'll be okay, I don't think this one
is dangerous."
     "For you." she looked shaken. She was starting to think like
him. "You think it's a set-up. To get me and this baby where they
can do something to us."
     "Maybe. We still don't know who our enemies are, or how far
they will go." he leaned closer to her, close enough to kiss
her...but of course he didn't. His voice dropped, became
intimate. "And there's another thing. When I was seven...my
parents *went* to San Antonio, Scully. They left me with at a
friend's house. And I think Mom came back pregnant."
     Her indrawn breath echoed his.
     Could this have something to do with him personally? With
Samantha?
     "Just let me go and look around." he nuzzled her cheek, his
big nose soft on her skin. "If there's any danger I'll call you.
I need to do this one by myself." 
    The door behind them opened and Mulder leaned back
reflexively. Dancer, looking tired, glided in, his grin firmly in
place.
     "Don't mind me." he perched on the edge of Mulder's desk.
"Carry on. I'll take notes."
     Scully let out an exasperated snort and Mulder gave him a
shove. Dammmit, the man even *fell* gracefully.
     "So how did you like the place?" Dancer asked from
the floor.
     "We took it." Mulder was glad to change the subject and
Scully knew it. "You can send for your stuff now."
     Dancer stood, one hand on Scully's shoulder.
     "Mulder, I don't have any 'stuff'."
     Scully looked at him, startled.
     "Nothing?"
     He grinned widely.
     "I take it back. I have about a dozen boxes of books at my
sister's place."
     "No furniture." Scully wasn't questioning.
     "My last place was furnished, right down to the plates." he
shrugged easily. "I'm not really a material person."
     *Not really a 'person'*, Mulder thought, allowing a brief
grin that Dancer returned.
     "I have some money in the bank." Dancer misinterpreted
Scully's frown as she glanced at Mulder suspiciously. "I can get
whatever we need."
     "You can have my bed." Mulder clenched his fist in his lap,
leaning into the fresh pain, unnoticed. "I won't have a bedroom.
I think it's time to admit I don't need one."
     Scully's frown was deepening.
     "We need to talk about money, Ru. How are we going to divide
things? I don't want you to feel responsible for me..."
     "Hey, hey." he held up his hands. "Chill. It's just money,
Dana. I don't care."
     "Are we going to divide it by two or three?" she was
insistent. The men exchanged glances  -- she was going to upset
herself.
     "Scully." Mulder's voice was matter-of-fact but his eyes
were warm and soft meeting hers. "Let's talk about this over
lunch."
     His glance around the room reminded her that someone might
be listening and she understood. Their secret was a delicate
thing, easily revealed accidently. She hated watching her words.
     "Did you get some breakfast?" Dancer interpreted the
exchange and decided to play his role, sounding worried.
     "Mulder fed me."
     "But you need to take your medicine and eat again." he said,
reaching for her briefcase. "We can discuss personal finances
over an early lunch."
     As they were going out the door he continued, an arm loose
around her waist, Mulder trailing behind.
     "This baby is going to have the best of everything, Dana,
you know I'll get you everything he needs..."
     Lunch was pasta at Giovanni's, Scully's choice.
     "I *need* garlic." she'd insisted, and so she had scampi
alfredo, and actually ate it.
     "I'll pay the rent on the big one." Dancer said as she
scribbled in her notebook, charts and graphs and columns of
figures. Mulder was quietly crumbling a breadstick onto a napkin.
     "But that's almost $400 more than the bills will be." she
objected. His grin was beginning to annoy her.
     "But *you* will pay them on time. It's worth the
difference."
     "Then you have to take the master bedroom."
     "You're gonna want the private bath." he came back, enjoying
himself.
     Mulder picked up another breadstick and began plucking off
the sesame seeds one by one, piling them on top of the napkin
dispenser.
     "Besides." Dancer kicked him firmly, unexpectedly, under the
table. "There's gonna be a crowd in your room."
     Mulder threw the denuded breadstick at him. It bounced off.
     "*Especially* if I have his bed."
     He was grinning like an idiot again.
     "C'mon, Scully." he wheedled like a little boy, and he was
even better at it than Mulder. "This is the closest thing I've
had to family in years. Let me do it the way I want to."
     He didn't say anything personal very often and Scully picked
up on it.
     "What about you brother and sister, your twin?" she said it
softly.
     "There aren't enough of us left." his smile faded. "We
scattered after Mom died. Da said we needed to spread out..." he
didn't finish, just met her eyes and spoke quietly, a touch of
pleading. "Don't go there, Scully."
     "It's a scary place." Mulder added with an easy grin,
reaching for her hand. She knew she was being distracted, but it
was so seldom he was openly affectionate that she let him.
     "If I don't give him a hard time you'll have to talk to me
about that case." she retorted, a gleam in her eye as she rubbed
her fingers over his, feeling a roughness on his palm.
     "Cool!" Dancer sat back, his grin reasserting itself.
     "You stay and get us moved while I go west." lifting her
hand, Mulder kissed her fingertips one at a time. She sighed and
closed her eyes. "I'll send you the autopsy reports and lab work
to go over."
     "You cheat." the accusation was soft.
     "I know." he put her hand down and stood. "Deal?"
     She looked up at him. He seemed so far away. His resolve --
to protect her, to protect their baby, to prove himself -- was so
clear in his eyes. But there was something else there, too,
something she hadn't seen before. A new level of sadness.
     She caught Dancer's grimace out of the corner of her eye.
     *Demons*. 
     And they had to be fought alone.
     "I'll go home and start packing." she gave in with a smile.
     "Don't forget my videos.' his grin was suddenly his own
again, and then he left.
     They watched him go with similar expressions, then Dancer
stood and offered her his hand.
     "Packing." he snorted.
     "Yeah."
     "I can think of better ways to spend a Saturday."
     "So can I." her agreement was sad.
     *He really loves you*. Dancer's eyes told her as they got
into his car.
     *I know*. She didn't have to answer aloud.


     "Agent Mulder?" the tall brunette with legs to die for
approached him as soon as he cleared the gate. "I'm Sandra
Rodriguez. Roddy."
     He shook her hand, allowing himself a minute to admire. She
returned it just as obviously.
     "Is your partner coming?" Roddy, as she had told him to call
her, was definitely interested as they got into the car, yet
another Taurus, this one green. 
     She'd heard the stories and wanted a shot at Spooky Mulder.
Rumor had it that he was worth the effort.
     "Scully's a trifle indisposed just now."
     "Oh?" she pulled into traffic dominated by pickup trucks.
     "Morning sickness." 
     "How nice for her!" she sounded genuinely pleased. "When is
she due?"
     "Sometime in December." he wondered how much of her cheer
was because she thought that meant he was available. His rumored
relationship with Scully had often protected him from women in
the past. But she had sounded sincere. "She and Agent Dancer are
very excited."
     It still surprised him how easy it was to say that.
Shouldn't it at least bother him that another man was claiming
his child?
     Roddy turned her eyes to him  again, taking a longer look
this time. He needed to say something, self-defense.
     "So what have you got?" the words were normal but his voice
was twenty degrees colder. She blinked. What had she said?
     Well, she had been warned. Spooky Mulder was *weird*.

     "How's the moving going?" his call that night was a welcome
break. 
     "Not bad. Ru works like a dog, Mulder.'
     In his hotel room Mulder smothered a laugh.
     "Mulder? Are you okay?"
     "I'm fine, Scully." he said, and meant it just about as much
as she ever did. "How are you feeling?"
     "Both of us are fine." she was teasing him now, gently. A
sudden, sharp wash of happiness flooded him. "We should have
everything packed by noon tomorrow, that's when the moving guys
get here."
     "Big burly guys in overalls? Oooo, Scully."
     "I may as well get it while I can. Pretty soon I'll be too
big to turn anyone's head."
     "My head will spin just for you." he promised solemnly. "Did
you get the paperwork?"
     "I'll go over it in bed." she answered, then he winced as
she shouted. "Ru! Put me down..." she pulled the phone from her
ear and he didn't hear the rest.
     "Scully?" he wanted to say something sweet, something
loving, but her phone was probably tapped...and he didn't know
how anyways. "I'm going to let you go now. I'll talk to you
tomorrow."
     "Mulder? What -?" she came back on the line just in time to
hear it click.
     "Bye." she stared at the receiver in her hand. Beside her Ru
grimaced and took a step back.
     "Uh...sorry?"
     "You big jerk." she said it so affectionately he knew he
wasn't in real trouble.
     The knock on the door startled both of them. With a glance
he turned and ducked into the kitchen.
     Opening the door Dana forced a smile.
     "Mom. What are you doing here?"
     Margaret Scully looked past her daughter to the mess of
stacked household items and open boxes.
     "Dana?" she sounded doubtful. "Are you moving?"
     Her daughter sighed. She hadn't talked to her mother since
she found out...what was she going to tell her...and *how*?
     "Come on in." she led her to a recently emptied chair and
sat on the arm beside her. Ru stayed in the kitchen, making
packing noises. "I'm sorry I haven't called in a while. There've
been some things going on..."
     Cool in a linen suit, calm and strong, Margaret studied her
daughter's face, their blue eyes a perfect match. To hers Dana
looked tired and pale and thin.
     "What's wrong?" she could feel something tugging at her
intuition, but wanted Dana to tell her.
     "I'm pregnant." Dana's smile was real and Margaret relaxed.
She was happy about it, so it was okay.
     "That's wonderful, dear. So you're moving?" it took a
tremendous effort not to ask the question, the one uppermost on
her mind, but Captain Scully's wife had long experience minding
her tongue. Dana would tell her when she was ready.
     A movement caught her eye as a man stepped into the hall.
His body blocked part of the light, putting his face in shadow
and Margaret dared to hope, hope that was quickly dashed as the
man came closer. Too short, too blocky, the walk was wrong,
cocky.
     This wasn't Fox.
     Dana stood with a soft smile and took the tray Dancer
offered her, setting it on the coffee table.
     "Mom. This is Ruarke Dancer. Ru, this is my mom, Margaret
Scully. Ru's going to be my new roommate."
     Aware of Dana's hesitancy, Margaret stood and offered her
hand. She got an impression of dark hair, restrained strength,
and big gentle eyes.
     His hand was warm and large and heavily calloused.
     "I'm glad to meet you, *Ru*?" she fumbled over the name.
"Where do you know Dana from?"
     Dana calmly poured tea, passing her a cup and smiling as
Dancer shook his head. 
     They sat again, Dancer on the sofa beside Dana, his hand on
her knee.
     "We met at that conference a couple of months ago." His
cheerfulness was a pleasant change. "I'm another *federale*. As
soon as Dana told me the news I transferred up here from LA."
     California. That explained the tan.
     No one spoke and the silence became awkward. Margaret
watched the couple. Ru was at ease, smiling, but Dana seemed
uncomfortable.
     "Dana." her words were soft and filled with love. "I'm not
upset about this, you know. Truly. I've always known you wanted
children." their eyes met and Margaret smiled. "I'm ready to be
'granny' again. Bill Junior is so far away I'm hardly a part of
Billy and Sue's lives."
     "We'll be right here, Mom." Dana was trying not to cry.
she'd been so worried that her mother would be disappointed in
her. That weight lifted now, and Dancer squeezed her knee,
understanding.
     "I know it's getting late, but we could run that load in the
car over and show your mom the new place." he suggested. His grin
was irresistible.
     "You're haven't been carrying boxes?" Margaret's voice took
on a familiar scolding tone.
     "My department." Dancer hopped up and heaved a large box
strapped with ductape into his arms. The door was shut, but he
balanced precariously on one foot to turn the knob with the toes
of the other, letting himself out.
     Margaret watched her daughter.
     "He's very sweet, Dana."
     "Ru's one of a kind." Dana's smile seemed forced again. They
got up and she stopped her mother, giving her a brief hug.
Surprised at this from her aloof child, Margaret began to worry
again.
     "I need to tell you something about the apartment, Mom..."
Dana said as they went out the door.


     *Damn*.
     Mulder raised his hand to throw his notebook but restrained
himself, lying it gently on the table instead. 
     Roddy and her partner hadn't arrived yet, he'd wanted to get
here early. Scully was going to be calling to tele-conference.
     But he wanted to talk to her first.
     But he didn't know what he wanted to say.
     *Fuck it*.
     He picked up the phone and dialed.
     "Scully." she answered first ring, sounding good this
morning. The new medicine was really making a difference.
     "Did you go over the data?" he was all business.
     Sitting at her desk in the half-empty apartment Scully
sighed. "I'm fine, Mulder, and how are you?"
     "You sound rested." there was something in his voice she
didn't recognize.   
     Roddy and Drew Smith walked in at that moment, rescuing him.
     "Let me put you on hold for a minute, Scully." he said and
then did it before she could protest.
     "Morning." Smith was surly. He didn't appreciate Mulder's
presence, felt it was a criticism of his methods. Roddy was
friendly enough, but her interest of the day before was gone.
He'd taken care of that last night when she'd driven him to the
hotel, he'd been rude and distinctly unfriendly.
     And dow he was going to pay for it. She didn't even greet
him, just sat down and opened her file.
     "Is Agent Scully on the line?" her tone implied incompetence
on his part.
     "Scully." he hit the speaker button and spoke her name.
     "I'm here, Mulder."
     "Agents Smith and Rodriguez are with me. What have you found
out?"
     Setting herself to business Scully spoke dispassionately.
     "Aside from the fact that the bodies were autopsied prior to
recovery, which we already knew, the most interesting item is the
state of the infant brains." it was hard to remain detached but
she was an expert at it. "The local pathologist, Dr. Hoover,
didn't think it was significant, but I've gone over all the
reports several times and correlated the data and the
similarities are striking."
     "You're talking about the frontal lobe discrepancy." Roddy
sounded bored. Scully wondered what Mulder had done this time.

"That was dismissed as a fluke. It was only found in three of the
fetuses."
     "I found it in all of them." Scully spoke firmly. "It was
originally found in the three seven-month fetuses. Hoover didn't
factor in the prenatal age. I projected the rate-of-growth for
the other four infants up to the seventh month and believe
that the discrepancy would be as marked in them at that time as
it was in the three older ones."
     Roddy was sitting up, looking interested in spite of
herself.
     "What could cause that?" she asked.
     "I don't know of any substance that would cause extreme
brain growth during prenatal development." Scully answered. "And
this is extreme. The right frontal lobe is nearly three times the
size of normal. There is no disease, no maternal infection that I
know of that would cause this result. I couldn't find a single
report of anything remotely like this and I searched the archives
back thirty years."
     "What would it do to the babies, Scully?" Mulder asked
suddenly, jumping ahead of her. "If a child survived to term with
that deformity, what would it do to them?"
     "That's highly unlikely, Agent Mulder." Smith rebuked him.
"We wouldn't be finding them dead if that could happen."
     Scully answered him seriously.
     "The area affected controls speech, logic and reasoning
skills. It has been theorized that it is the area responsible for
quirks of intelligence like yours, Mulder, the home of eidetic
memory. If someone were born with that part of the brain this
disproportionate, they would have the potential to be brilliant,
perhaps beyond anything we've ever known. Or they could be non
functional in the extreme, unable to cope with the level of
information they get. Or it might not make a difference at all,
just more dead space."
     "A superman." Roddy shook her head. "That's science fiction,
Agent Scully."
     "I'm only theorizing." Scully said quietly.
     Mulder was thinking. Brilliant. Beyond human. His childhood
love of science fiction prompted the next question.
     "Scully. If humanity as a race was going to develop
telepathy, where would it start?"
     Smith groaned aloud and Roddy shook her head again. *Spooky*
indeed.
     "The odds against that are so phenomenal I wouldn't know
where to start." Scully scolded gently.
     "Could it start there?" he pressed.
     "It is one of the places such an evolution has been
speculated could occur." she didn't say no. She'd seen so many
impossible things, this didn't seem so far-fetched as it once
might have.
     "You found no evidence of drugs or other unknown substances
in the bloodwork." Smith decided it was time to take control of
the conversation.
     "None. Neither did Hoover."
     "And there was nothing to explain the premature deliveries?"
Roddy added.
     "Aside from the frontal lobe discrepancy, these seemed to be
perfectly normal, healthy babies." 
     Mulder caught the fear in her voice and wished he could talk
to her privately, vowing to himself that he would call her that
night and they would talk about it. Their baby was fine, he
*knew* that.
     The meeting was essentially over. He thanked Scully and told
her, gently, to get some rest, seeing Roddy watching him out of
the corner of her eye, hoping she wasn't getting more ideas.

     "So what now?" Smith asked when Scully was off the line.
     "I'm going to investigate the reports of lights and
sightings." Mulder said shortly.
     "That's bullshit." Smith snorted. "No little green men stole
those babies."
     "They're grey." Mulder looked up in surprise as Roddy
defended him, met his eyes with a smile. Oh, hell. She liked him
again.
     "I am aware of the -- remoteness of this hypothesis." Mulder
said sharply. "So I suggest you begin an investigation of
research facilities in the area, particularly ones dealing with
infertility or genetics."
     "Yes." Roddy seemed surprised. "That would make sense."
     Meaning his theory didn't. That was okay, he didn't want any
help anyhow.
     "We'll meet you downtown for dinner at eight, okay?" Roddy
was smiling at him again. "Jacala's. Mexican food. You'll like it
and it's easy to find."
     He left without answering her.

     It had been a long, frustrating day. Uncooperative
witnesses, witnesses with no memory to speak of and conflicting
reports of what was seen. Typical.
     Sitting in his hotel room in the dark, Mulder glanced at the
clock. 9:23. He wasn't going to make dinner and Roddy would be
pissed. Enough to leave him alone, he hoped.
     The cigarette glowed, a bright spot in the dark, the orange
of Halloween. The drag filled his lungs, made him choke, and it
glowed brighter.
     Three agonizing holes. Deep and red, in a neat triangle. 
     Burns were good because they didn't bleed much, hurt a lot
and took a long time to heal, especially if you irritated them
regularly. 
     He pulled his shirt sleeve down without bandaging them,
wincing, stubbing out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe.
     Even better if they got infected.
 
     He looked at the phone. His mind replayed Scully's voice
from the morning, the fear he'd heard even clearer in his memory.
     He'd told himself he would call her. If he didn't call her
she would call him.
     He couldn't talk to her now. He'd proven again how unworthy
he was, snapping at her and pushing her away. Someday she was
going to realize it and she would be gone, his baby with her.
     Better never to have them. He couldn't protect, them
couldn't help them, couldn't even claim them. 
     He would become his father *now*, before he had a chance to
hurt anyone. Before they got close enough for him to leave them.
     The baby would never know the pain he had felt when his
father rejected him, because the baby would never know him.
     It was easy to think these thoughts, in this dark room, his
arm aching.

     "Agent Mulder!" Roddy called to him as he walked in, after
ten Monday morning. "Your partner called. She wants to talk to
you."
     He looked bleary-eyed and rumpled. She made a face.
     "I see you found something else to do last night. Don't
worry, I won't try again." she turned her back on him.
     Smith was waiting in the cubicle they had assigned him.
There was a *huge* pile of folders and files on the battered
desk.
     "Here's your *data*." he sneered. "Have fun."
     He left with a malicious grin.
     Mulder closed the door and sat down.
     His cel phone was turned off. With a hard movement he yanked
the receiver off the phone and turned it upside down to keep it
from beeping.
     His original theory wasn't panning out. So now he would have
to work on the other one.
     He opened a file and began to read. One hand slipped into
his jacket pocket and pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds, set
them up and to the right, and he popped one into his mouth
distractedly.
     Crunch. Warm and salty, just like blood.

     "Has he gone out?" he heard Roddy's voice outside the door,
but not the answer. He ignored it, just as he ignored the time.
     He read for thirteen hours, and no one bothered him.
     No one offered him coffee or suggested he eat. 
     But that was okay. He hadn't called Scully, he didn't
*deserve* to eat.

     "Damn him!" Dana slammed the phone down for the tenth time.
On the other side of the loft Ru stopped piling Mulder's boxes
into the storage room and loped to her.
     "Dana?" he stopped as he got close, watching her carefully.
     "He is such an *asshole*." she hissed. "I know he's not
happy about the baby, I *know* he's afraid he'll turn into his
father, but he *can't* cut me out of a case like this!" she was
shouting now. Ru took a step closer, held out a hand.
     "It's late." he said softly. "Let's go down and get some
sleep. I finished putting up your bed hours ago."
     She recoiled but he stood patiently, hand in midair, smiling
gently.
     "I'm going to hate him." she said simply. "I love him, but I
can see that I'm going to hate him. Maybe he's right..." she
sounded defeated.
     "You didn't eat much dinner." he was still speaking softly.
"Why don't I go out and get you something Italian? With lots of
garlic."
     "Nah..." she smiled, small and tired, but a smile. "I've had
this feeling all day, that I wanted something, but I don't know
what it is..."
     "Rest." he teased. "You need to *rest*."
     She shook her head. "I'm used to being tired."
     "Not like this."
     He took her hand and she let him lead her down the narrow
stairs.
     The lower apartment looked like a scene from the movie
'Twister'. Dana groaned as she slumped on the sofa.
     "Don't you need to run tonight?"
     "I can skip a night, once in a while."
     Ru sat carefully beside her. He didn't want to step over any
lines, but she looked so miserable...he picked up the remote and
channel surfed, stopping at a flash of black-and-white.
     "The Maltese Falcon! This is my second all-time favorite
movie." he declared, leaning back. She looked at him, surprised.
     "I wouldn't have figured you as a Bogie fan."
     "What? You thought I was the Lon Chaney Jr type?" his grin
was infectious and she had to chuckle. It was a relief just to
sit and rest, and she leaned back as well and they watched the
movie.
     It was a marathon. Next was 'The African Queen' and then the
topper, 'Casablanca'. Halfway through African Queen Scully sat
up.
     "I'm too tired to sleep."
     "It's not like we anywhere have to go in in the morning." he
pointed out. They had three days' leave to move.
     "I've figured out what I want." she was grinning at him,
confident. He was almost afraid to ask.
     "What?"
     "*Twinkies*. And Ding Dongs. And Hostess Cupcakes..."
      His eyes grew comically round.
     "Dana! All that junk food..." he scolded as he got up and
padded to the door, barefoot in T-shirt and cutoffs. "I'll be
right back."
     "And Kool-Aide. They won't taste right without Kool-Aide!"
she called after him, and got his loud laugh as a reply.

     She woke the next morning still on the sofa. Ru was sitting
beside her and she was leaning on him, her head on his chest. His
arm was around her and a blanket was over her, carefully folded
away from him. He was watching Good Morning America.
     She sat up, award. He pulled his arm away without looking
at her.
     "Did Mulder call?"
     "Sorry." 
     "I think I'll go to bed now." she got up and walked to her
bedroom, the big one, trailing the blanket. Behind her Ru curled
over on the sofa and closed his eyes, asleep between one breath
and the next.

part#2
------
and a hard place

     The room was full of pregnant women. All glowing and smiling
and waddling. He couldn't imagine Dana waddling.
     The nurse hadn't been happy to see him, but had said she
would find a few minutes for the doctor to talk to him. Now he
was waiting patiently, arms crossed, the fingers of his right
hand rubbing repeatedly over the open burns on the inside of his
left arm. So he was calm. Cool. Professional.
     Dr.Peterson was offended by his very presence. She quoted
him statistics, their success rate, their excellent professional
reputation and he listened with one ear as he studied the office
and requested the names of patients who had recently lost their
babies.
     "We haven't had a miscarriage here in six years!" she was
infuriated.
     With a jolt he realized that he believed her, thanked her,
and left her in mid-tirade.
     This wasn't working. He was doing something wrong, going at
this from the wrong angle. He wished he could talk to Scully
about it, but she probably wasn't speaking to him after
yesterday.
     He almost broke his own neck as he slammed on the brakes,
ignoring the horn that blared behind him.
     *Or she was on her way here*.
     He'd better call her before she *did* get on a plane.
     He stopped at the next payphone.

     "Scully?"
     "Mulder." oh, she was pissed.
     "Sorry about yesterday...I got caught up in some research."
Like she was going to believe that.
     Dana glanced at Ru, who was watching her from the sofa, face
behind crossed arms, his eyes glowing over them, predatory. The
phone had woken both of them. 
     "Scully? You sound tired." he hoped she hadn't waited up all
night for him to call.
     "I just got up, Mulder." let him chew on that. "Did you need
something?" the only thing that might save him now was if he
asked her to join him.
     "I just wanted to tell you that I have everything under
control, in case you were worried. You can stay and finish
moving."
     Jerk.
     "I'm pretty much done moving, Mulder."
     Ru's eyes caught hers, he raised his head and she saw him
whisper.
     "*Demons*."
     "But I did decide the place needs painting..." why was she
letting him off the hook like this? Because Ru said to? How scary
was that?
     "Not my place." he actually sounded alarmed.
     "You're not here to stop me..." she meant it to tease, but
it came out like a threat.
     "Oh. Okay. Whatever you want, Scully."
     Now he sounded like a lost little boy again. Damn.
     "How's the case coming?" 
     He told her all about it. The lack of good witnesses, his
second theory and the trouble he was having digging up
information, his feeling that he was missing something...she
listened and sympathized and critiqued and suggested. Just like
she always did. His Scully, all sense and sensibility.
     When he got off the phone he felt better, but then his arm
began to hurt again and he remembered.
     But she'd given him some ideas to work with.

     "I am not going to accost pregnant women in front of
doctor's offices." his cubicle was small for one person,
claustrophobic for three.
     Roddy was staring at him. She didn't just think he was
crazy, now she thought he was certifiable. Why was this man
running around loose?
     "*Somebody* gave birth to these babies." Mulder snarled.
     "I bet it was *Arnie*. He was doing research for Junior; the
sequel." Smith did a creditable Schawerznegger impression.
     Mulder ignored him.
     "I don't need you on this." he warned Roddy. "I was just
giving you a chance to be involved. You back out now and I won't
be letting you in on anything I find out."
     "Have at." Smith stood and walked to the door. "Roddy?"
     She was frowning. Sure, Mulder was a jerk, but he had a high
clearance rate. Maybe he was just reacting to working alone...
     "Okay, I'll help, but only for one day."
     "It may take more than that."
     Smith made a sound of disgust and left.
     "One day, Mulder." she was firm and he rewarded her with the
first real smile she'd seen from  him. It made him damn
beautiful.
But she'd already decided to drop that idea, and resolved to stay
decided.
     
     "What do they do here?" she was wondering what made him
suspect this place.
     They were on stakeout, in the parking lot of Southwest
Research, one of the biggest and most exclusive private genetics
research facilities in the country.
     "The lead team doctor here, Mr. Antonio Tomas discovered a
clever way to detect certain genetic deformities in embryos in
the first twelve hours." he explained, crunching a sunflower seed
and spitting the shell out the window. "When the egg and sperm
meet they split their genetic complement so a baby gets half from
each of them..." he glanced to make sure she was following him,
     "Everybody knows that." she was irritated.
     "And the extra DNA gets sacked up and pushed out the side
like leftovers. It's called the 'polar body'. With some diseases,
like Cystic Fibrosis, you either have the gene or you don't. If
you have it from both parents you get the disease. If you have it
from only one you're a carrier and have to face this dilemma when
you want to have children. If you don't get either you don't
have it and your children won't either."  
     "So if the genes for it are in this 'polar body'..." she
smiled in understanding.
     "Then the fetus doesn't have it. It's a complicated
procedure, they have to go through the whole in-vitro mess and
the problems with that, but for people who want a kid that's not
going to die or need constant medical care, it's a miracle."
     "You really are smart." she sounded surprised.
     "I read a lot." he blew it off.
     "So why are we here?"
     "Lots of reasons. They do cutting-edge work, so they're
willing to push the limits. A couple of the other team doctors
were reportedly unhappy with Tomas getting all the credit but
couldn't leave because they're under contract."
     "Is that common?" she felt like a student. Teacher's pet,
maybe, but still a student. But she *was* learning something.
     "Whenever there's the possibility of a new procedure or drug
that could be patented, yeah, it's the rule. There have been
several lawsuits over supposedly 'stolen' advances in genetic
therapy."
     "Any more reasons?"
     "Several members of the board are wealthy and make regular
contributions to certain politicians I keep an eye on, people I
know have participated in --" he hesitated, decided not to go
into it -- "And most importantly, Tomas made a philanthropic
gesture three years ago and began offering his services -- and
the clinic's -- free to select lower-income cases. Unfortunately
those records are confidential, protected under doctor-patient
privaledge and we've got no evidence to get them."
     "So we want evidence." 
     He sat, waiting for her to comment, spitting two more shells
out the window.
     "If he has low-income clients we should be able to pick them
from the rich ones." she said slowly, and he nodded. "And they
would be the ones most likely to let him get away with something
for lots of reasons...He probably picks them very carefully."
     She looked at him suddenly, her eyes wide.
     "You're sure about this. Not just guessing, but *sure*."
     "Not positive. But if you can see it too, then I can't be
far off."
     "Wow." he was as good as his record said. He might be nuts,
rude, and unfriendly, but he was *good*."
     "I guess I can spend a day waiting with you."



     "Mulder? How's it going up there?" she'd dialed the number -
swearing to herself that she wasn't going to get upset. She
missed him, it had been several days. They were almost never
apart this long, even before they were lovers.
     He sounded more relaxed.
     "I have a lead, I'm just waiting for it to pan out." he
said. "Roddy's good company on a stakeout. She likes the
Stooges." 
     "Who?"
     "An agent on the case. Her partner is less than helpful, but
she's a trooper."
     Probably tall and brunette, Dana thought, glancing down at
herself. She had a little tummy now, a small outward curve in her
shape.
     "I'm glad you have somebody you can work with." she wished
she could say what she wanted to, but he didn't trust phones, and
his paranoia was rubbing off.
     "Scully, I'm worried about this case. If these people are
doing illegal genetic experiments *and* they're connected with
other people we both know and love...I'm afraid I'll find out
something about what happened -- to you." it was hard for him to
even talk about it.
     "Not every case can be about me or Samantha, Mulder." she
said softly. "If you find any evidence that these guys know what
happened to me, great. If not it probably means they weren't
involved."
     "But those dreams you had...where you were pregnant, while
you were in the coma..."
     "Were just dreams." she said, telling herself that she
believed it, she *had* *to* believe it. "Truly." she projected
that desperate certainty into her voice for him to hear.
     "It would be so like them to give me this case..." he
couldn't let it go.
     "Mulder." her voice cut across his thoughts. "If you find
something we'll talk about it. Not until then."
     "If that's what you want." he wasn't hurt by her statement,
relieved, really. These weren't possibilities he was comfortable
considering either. So he said the next thing that came to mind.
     "I don't think I'll make it back in time for the
appointment." matter-of-factly.
     "What?!" she hadn't heard him right. He knew how much she
wanted him there. Dancer had even found a case he *had* to go
take care of out of town to give them an excuse.
     "I don't think this is going to wrap up quickly..."
     "Give them your lead and get back here!" she shouted into
the phone, her words ringing in the silence of the empty office.
"They can do the leg work!"
     "That wouldn't look...right." he was trying to talk without
saying anything incriminating and couldn't. "Scully, you're a big
girl. You don't need me there holding your hand."
     *Damn you, Mulder*. He was using this situation to dump his
responsibility on Ru. She wasn't going to let him do this.
     "You'd better get here, Mulder, or you won't like the
consequences." it wasn't a threat, but a warning.
     "I'll do my best, Scully, but maybe you better talk to
Dancer, just in case..."
     He didn't tell her that he'd tracked a connection between
Tomas and one of the politicos they suspected of being part of
Cancer Man's group. A poor mexican immigrant from non-english
speaking parents Tomas would have had no chance to get into or
afford the prestigious schools he'd attended without influential
help, help that had been provided by a private charity that the
politico founded. How much influence did they have over him now?
     "There's some things about this case..." Mulder hedged. "I
need to be here, Scully."
     If she hadn't been so mad she might have heard the pleading
in his voice. The note of fear, and the desperately unhappy tone
that he only took when something had to do with Samantha. Or her
abduction. But she was angry, and didn't.
     "You're being a real bastard, Mulder." she snarled. "Don't
call me unless you change your mind."
     She hung up the phone abruptly, and sat looking at it,
stunned. Then she started to cry.
     Dancer came in a few minutes later, wanting to take her to
lunch. Seeing her shoulders shake he held back, waited a few
minutes, then finally handed her a tissue from the box on the
filing cabinet, and stood beside her quietly.
     She didn't want him to see her cry. No one saw her cry.
     No one but Mulder. The thought brought fresh tears.
     Dancer considered. She wasn't hurting herself, though it
bothered him to listen to her stifled sobs. It was probably
something she needed to do. So he didn't sooth her or console
her, just let her cry it out. When she was done they would go to
lunch and talk about it or not, as she wanted.
     Mulder was an asshole, he knew that. But he did love her.
     Remembering his older brother's divorce, which had hurt
Richard deeply, he also knew that love wasn't always enough. His
sister- in-law had loved Richard well enough until she learned
what her children could be. That had done it, but they never
stopped loving each other. Her fear just overrode it. 
     At least Scully and Mulder didn't have to deal with that. 
     "She's one." Mulder nodded at her words.     
     "Well dressed but she looks uncomfortable in it." he agreed.
     The woman in question got into an older Buick and they
pulled away to follow her. 
     She drove to a mall and they got out to follow her in the
parking lot, walking quickly. Roddy didn't have to stretch her
legs to keep up with him the way Scully did.
     "Ma'am. Ma'am!" Mulder called quietly as they approached,
and she turned. She looked wary as they stopped in front of her.
     Mulder studied her carefully. She was young, late twenties,
maybe, and probably pretty when her face wasn't swollen and her
eyes red. Had she been crying? What did she have to cry about?
     "I'm Agent Fox Mulder and this is Agent Sandra Rodriguez of
the FBI." he said gently, holding up his badge clearly. Roddy
startled to see this side of him. "We'd like to ask you some
questions."
     "You're not immigration?" her accent was heavy but she
sounded fairly bright.
     "We're investigating Dr.Tomas..." Roddy said and the change
was remarkable.
     "I do not speak about the doctor." the woman said firmly,
but she wasn't hostile.
     "Que es su nombre?" Rodriguez asked softly. 
     "Mercedes Garcia." the woman answered uncertainly. 
     "We just want to ask you a few questions, Mrs.Garcia. You
could help us find out what's happened to some babies."
     "The ones in the newspaper?" she was curious now.
     Mulder nodded, letting Roddy take it. The woman had
responded to her.
     "I signed a paper saying I wouldn't talk about the doctor or
what he does."      
     "Would you talk about him if he was doing something bad?"   
     The woman glanced around and then looked back at them.
     "Dr. Tomas is a gift from God."
     "Then we won't ask about the doctor." Mulder said, shaking
his head slightly at Roddy when she looked like she was going to
object. Scully would have known where he was going and followed
up. "Can you tell us about any of the other patients you know in
Dr.Tomas's special program?"
     "I only know a few."
     "Have any of them had their babies recently?" Roddy was
glaring at him now.
     "No, none that I can think of."
     "Have any of them stopped coming to appointments lately?"
     She thought about it.
     "Mrs. Gorleski, I haven't seen her in a few weeks. She used
to come every Thursday, just like me. I thought she just started
coming another day."
     "You come in every week?" From recent experience Mulder knew
that wasn't normal, not even in high-risk pregnancies, at least
not until the last month.
     "Every week, si." she said. "Sometimes twice."
     "What does he do every week?" Roddy asked and Mulder could
have *thumped* her. His hand actually twitched thinking about it.
Garcia clammed right up.
     "I can't talk about this any more. I am meeting my sister to
buy baby clothes." she said, taking a step away.
     "Do you know what you're having?" Mulder tried to mend the
damage, but her eyes were wary now, she glanced at the nearest
door several times.
     "I will have a baby girl." she said at last. "Her name will
be Tiffany, and she will not get the disease that killed my
mother and grandfather. That is all I know, Mr.Mulder and
Miss.Rodriguez."
     She turned and walked away from them.
     Mulder turned on Roddy.
     "Great job. Scare her off when I had her talking."
     "I thought she was distracted enough that she might let
something slip..." she was confused by his anger. "I thought that
was what you were trying to do."
     "I was *trying* to get the names of women in the program who
had lost their babies recently, and she was going to give them to
me if you hadn't stuck your foot into it!" he got in the car.
     "How was I supposed to know that!"
     "It's called intuition, Rodriguez, and you ain't got it!" he
shouted in the car and her ears rang. She slammed her door and
yelled back.
     "Take me back to the office. They're all right about you,
Mulder! You're a creep and a cretin! The rest of us aren't
*spooky* the way you are!"
     They drove in silence.
     Mulder dropped her off and left without telling her where he
was going. But she didn't care anyhow.

     Dana finished her sandwich with something less than
enthusiasm. Dancer was watching her with concern.
     "I'm okay, Ru." she said, sounding so tired. "I just get so
frustrated sometimes."
     "I know." he smiled a little, his normal enthusiasm tempered
by her mood.
     "It's hard. I always thought that being pregnant would be
like one long birthday, everybody happy about it, the man I loved
treating me like a princess..." she trailed off as he stood,
taking her hand. "What are you doing?"
     "We're going birthday shopping." he said, his eyes lighting
up with inspiration. 
     "It's not my birthday, Dancer." she couldn't help a smile as
he pulled her out of the pub.
     "Sure it is, for another six months." he grinned now,
helping her into the car. "That's what you want, right?"
     "Not exactly..."
     "You don't have any maternity clothes or baby toys and you
haven't even looked at furniture..." he scolded. "There's nothing
you can do at the office until Mulder sends more information
...now, have you decided on a theme for the nursery?"
     With a resigned smile Scully sat back and listened as the
tough little agent debated the virtues of Winnie-the-Pooh versus
Beatrix Potter.
     "And there's always the Muppet Babies, and Disney..." he was
trying so hard.
     
     He took her to one of the expensive baby stores that had
everything.
     "My God. That's more than I make in a month." Dana giggled
as they looked at the round designer crib in the window display.
It had a canopy and specially designed mattress. 
     "It is pretty, though." Dancer teased. It was extravagant,
ridiculous.
     The saleswoman, wearing a pastel suit and carrying a
planner, came over after they had browsed for a few minutes.
     "Hi. Shopping for yourself or a friend?" 
     "Us." Ru said with just the right touch of masculine pride.
Dana had to choke back a laugh, covering it with a cough.
     "Do you know what you're interested in?' her cheerfulness
might be a match for Dancer's, Dana thought.
     "We've just started looking." she admitted. "I'm not due
until December, it seems like we have so much time.
     "Not that much." the woman grinned, looking human. "That
crib has to be ordered at least a year in advance. They are hand
made in Russia."
     Ru glanced at Dana. 
     "That would explain the price tag."
     "Yup. A little out of our budget." she agreed.
     "So, I'm Sally. Why don't you tell me what you do and what
you're looking for today and we can gather some ideas for you to
think about."
     They began walking through an area filled with cribs of all
shapes and sizes and colors.
     "We're FBI agents." Dancer said. He almost sounded as if he
were flirting, Dana thought, amused.
     "I guess you could put us in the middle-middle class." she
added with a teasing look at him. He winced.
     "Then this will probably be the sort of thing you want."
Sally stopped in an area that held eight or nine cribs. "All of
these are very nice, very sturdy, and very affordable. No
particle board, but no hand-carved bleached yew, either."
     "Normal stuff." Ru observed.
     "Yeah. Normal stuff." she agreed, looking him over with
friendly appreciation.
     "We'll look around. I don't think we're going to get
anything today." Dana said, warning him, but he just grinned at
her.
     "I'll be in the clothing department if you need me." Sally
agreed. "Here's my card." she slipped it -- engraved linen -- out
of her planner and Ru took it.

     "This is the sort of thing I imagined." Dana said, stroking
the soft shine of a traditional Jenny Lind crib, made of a light-
colored wood. "I want him to be able to look out between the bars
and see his room and everything."
     "To prepare him for prison life?" he was teasing.
     "So he'll be comfortable when he visits you." she retorted.
They stepped into another area and she smiled widely, moving
quickly.
     "Ru, *look*."
     "Oh, no." he shook his head.
     "This is perfect." Dana was fingering curtains, checking
prices on pillows and sheets and toys. "Ru, what could be more
appropriate?"
     Hopefully: "Pooh?"
     "Pooh on you." she said, holding up a blanket. "I didn't
know Warner Brothers had done a 'baby' version of the Looney
Tunes."
     "They're called 'Tiny Tunes'." he admitted reluctantly.
     "Mulder will *love* this." she took a stuffed Mortimer
Martian -- Marvin's nephew -- and shook him, listening to the
eerie squeak with delight. "I have to get this."
     "Whatever you want." he agreed, not wanting her to be sad
again.
     She took a pile of things to the counter -- curtains and
wall border and a fluffy throw rug and the stuffed Mortimer.
Sally saw them coming and met them with a smile.
     "You made up your mind fast."
     "This is great." Dana was almost giggling. "This is just
what I wanted." 
     Sally rolled her eyes and Dancer noticed.
     "I wanted Pooh." he said wistfully.
     "I have to have him, I get to choose." 
     "You're having a boy?" Sally asked.
     "It better be." Scully said and the saleswoman didn't
understand the sudden sadness in her voice.
     "What else would you like today?" she began gathering Dana's
untidy pile into a neat stack. 
     "Clothes." Dancer spoke up. "You're going to get big pretty
quick, Dana. A couple of suits maybe?"
     "I hate buying clothes."
     "I'll pick them." he offered, leading her to the big section
in the back.
     "They better have a petite section..." she let herself be
led, Sally trailing after.


     "What *are* you doing?" Roddy finally spoke to him after
ignoring him for hours. He'd only come back in because the modem
link on his laptop seemed to be screwed up.
     "Contacting a source." he said flatly, turning off the
screen as she walked in.
     "Are you witholding information from me, Agent Mulder?" she
sounded angry.
     "Would you recognize it if I *did*, Agent Roddy?" he
taunted, wanting her to leave so he could get on with it. He
crossed his arms and the burns began to hurt even before he
touched them.
     "I'm filing a complaint against you." she said harshly.
"Sexual discrimination. You obviously won't work with me because
I'm a woman."
     "I won't work with you because you're not Scully." he
snapped back. That as all he needed. A discrimination suit. That
would be just *dandy*.   
     "The *Ice Queen* doesn't qualify as a woman." the rumors
had spread further than he'd thought, but those words infuriated
him.
     "Then why is she the one having a baby while you're alone?"
he threw back, wanting to hurt her, to hurt *somebody*, tired of
hurting himself.
     Her face paled. That one had hit home.
     "That's it. I won't work with you."
     "I never asked you to." he turned his back on her, fingers
digging into the open wounds on his arm, the pain coming in a
wave, waiting for her to leave.
     He had to finish this case and get out of here...back to
Scully and the pain he understood. Just don't let there be any
connection to Samantha, he prayed to a God he didn't believe in
as he turned the computer back on, hearing her soft footsteps as
she left. Don't let me recognize any of the names they might give
me...
     The information was downloaded quickly, the Gunmen didn't
like to be on an official line very long and they were using a
multi-link remote hook-up for this. They wouldn't have done
it at all except he'd sent email *begging* for their help...he
scanned the file and then shut down, wanting to get to the
privacy of his hotel room to go over it.
     Several other agents glared at him in anger or disgust as he
left. Roddy hadn't wasted any time spreading the news.
     Spooky Mulder was a jerk.
     Big surprise there.

     "That's perfect." Ru smiled, giving the scarf a final
twitch.
     Dana looked in the mirror. She usually avoided scarves and
hats, they made her look even shorter, but he'd been right. With
her hair pulled up and the thin touch of color at her throat she
looked...different. Not taller, but sophisticated. It made the
plain black pantsuit a statement, not simply a decision.
     It made her hair glow dark copper.
     "I'll have to take you shopping more often." she agreed,
slipping it off. He had steered her to three outfits, two
ensembles and one suit, all adjustable for the days to come.
Sally had warned her that none of them would fit by December, but
they were good for now.
     And there wasn't a bow to be seen. No bows, no ruffles,
nothing pink. He had known she wouldn't like fussy stuff without
asking.
     They sat down on the sofa, the TV on. It was late, but her
hours were turned round now and she wasn't tired.
     The kitchen was separated from the living room area by a
tall counter and Dancer went behind it, opening a cabinet. She
couldn't reach half of them, they went almost to the high
ceiling.
     He came out with a plate and two glasses of purple liquid.
She grinned at the expression on his face.
     "You really don't like sweets, do you?" she asked as he set
it down and she picked up a cupcake, licking the frosting off the
top.
     He took a sip of the grape-flavored sugar-water and
grimaced.
     "Meat. I like *meat*." he picked up the remote. "Anything
good on?"
     "Not as good as Casablanca." she said. "How about Arnie?"
     "Which one? I'm too old to enjoy Conan the Republican
anymore."
     "You're only 26, Ru."
     "I *feel* too old for it." it was his usual lazy grin.
     "Kindergarten Cop and Twins."
     "That'll do."
     They watched the movies, Dana eating way too much junk food
but not feeling bad about it. During commercials she glanced at
Ru, sitting there like he belonged, his company comfortable,
undemanding, just there.
     This is the way it's supposed to be, she thought. Will it
ever be this way with Mulder again? *Was* it ever this way with
him?
      Ru looked at her and smiled, as if he had heard the
thought.
     He reached for her hand and she let him take it, his fingers
aimlessly tracing soft patterns.
     Dana sighed, closed her eyes.     
     After a few minutes he let go of her hand and stood,
stretching, his shirt pulling out of his jeans, revealing thickly
furred stomach. 
     He looked down at her and shrugged.
     "I don't want to leave you alone."
     She opened her eyes with a smile.
     "I'll be okay." 
     "I woundn't go if I didn't have to."
     "I know."
     Dana was briefly tempted to ask what would happen if he
didn't, but knew that deep down inside she didn't want to know.
Not really. Dancer was Dancer and that's all there was to it.
She didn't need the details.
     "I'll be back by dawn." he touched her face, a feather
stroke, his skin so warm.
     "I won't wait up." she promised.
     He went out the window into the fire escape and she was
alone.
     She wished Mulder would call.
    
     He sat on the rumpled bed, reading though his eyes hurt.
Touching his arm he was startled to find his shirt wet. He'd made
it bleed this time. That wasn't good, that was too noticeable.
He'd have to be more careful.
     He had names to call, files to search, something to go on.
With a sigh he began correlating the data into something an
average person could make sense of.
     He hadn't found any names he recognized and he was grateful.
     The clock said 2:34 a.m. when he looked at it. Too late to
call Scully. He'd have to do it in the morning. She was going to
be pissed, but maybe when he sent her this information she'd
forgive him...who was he kidding.
     He rubbed his arm. There was no one here to see it.

part#3
------
rockslide

     Dana sat beside him in the car silent. She wasn't looking
out the window or anything. If her eyes hadn't been open he would
have thought she was asleep.
     But her eyes were open and shining with unshed tears.
     Releasing the steering wheel with one hand Ru reached over
and took hers, giving it a friendly squeeze.
     She glanced at him but wouldn't meet his eyes. He reached
into the storage thing between the seats and pulled out a tissue,
holding it out to her, putting his hand back on the wheel, trying
to watch the road and still see her out of the corner of his eye.
     "He's doing what he thinks is right, Dana." he said softly.
     "Stop defending him." it was flat and desperately unhappy.
"He's avoiding me...and our baby. He doesn't want this."
     They were passing out of the city, the landscape was
suburban, cheerful, normal. Scully stared at it, seeing a

landscape once familiar, now as alien as the surface of the moon.
     Ru glanced at the sky, wishing briefly for the moon to show
itself, give him strength. There was nothing he could say, or do
to make this better.
     "All we've gone through..." the tears were rolling slowly
down her face now. They both ignored them. Unspoken is unseen. 
     She couldn't find anything else to say. Dancer was torn,
unable to sort his feelings. he always tried to avoid human
entangalments and here he was, torn between his compassion for
and his anger at Mulder and his affection and fear for Dana.
     Sometimes he just couldn't find the words.
     Hesitantly he slid his large hand across the seat and
wrapped her much smaller one in it, giving it a gentle squeeze
and holding it tenderly on the seat between them.
     Dana didn't look at him or change expression. But she did
squeeze back, once.
     By the time they got to the doctor's office her tears were
gone and she had found a tremulous smile to celebrate this
milestone.


     "Mrs. Hernandez?" the door of the tiny house opened,
revealing a latched chain and a dark face. "I'm special agent Fox
Mulder with the FBI. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you
can spare the time." he flipped up the folder he held ready.
     "Questions about what?" her deep voice sounded reasonable.
     "I'd like to ask you about Southwest Research and Dr.Tomas."
     The chain slipped and she opened the door, a matronly woman
in her late thirties, clean, her very long hair in one thick
braid over her shoulder. She smiled tentatively.
     "I would like to talk about them, but I can't. I'm sorry."
she began to close the door again and he stuck a foot in it with
a wry grin.
     "Is something or someone preventing you from talking to me?"
he sounded very serious and she responded in kind.
     "I haven't been threatened, Mr.Mulder. But I signed a paper
when I was a patient there promising never to talk about what
they did. They said it was so nobody could steal their
technology."
     "Do you think they had any technology worth stealing?" when
she shook her head he held up a hand. "Hear me out. You're not
talking about the technology itself, just your *impression* of
it."
     She thought about it for a minute.
     "I've been treated for infertility at several clinics across
the US, and Tomas had, he *did* things I've never heard or seen
of before."
     "Did Tomas help you have a baby, Mrs.Hernandez?" he said it
very quietly, very sympathetically.
     "It didn't work for me." the sadness was obvious, but he
could see the resolve, too. This woman had dealt with her
disappointment and would get on with her life.
     "Thank you for your time." he left, thinking that "I'm
sorry." would really just rub it in.
     Celia Gorleski was next.

     
     "Here's the head..." Dr.Hall was standing beside Dana,
pointing at the small screen while the white-coated technician
slowly rolled the receiver across her belly, just a little bump
now, the jelly cold and slimy on her skin. Dancer stood by her
head, a hand on her shoulder, watching her face and not the
screen.
     "And the heart. Everything looks fine, Dana." Hall smiled at
both of them, catching Dancer looking pensive.
     "Can you tell what it is?" 
     Dana didn't sound very excited.
     "It's really too early to tell, but we'll know after the
amnio next week." Hall said, turning to study the screen
carefully. "No, too early. I'm going to print this for you so you
can it to the grandparents..." she grinned at them, "But you'll
have to get the copies yourself."
     Dana watched in fascination, feeling a thrill run through
her as she watched the image move on the screen.
     That was her *baby*.
     Standing beside her, a hand on her shoulder, Dancer watched
with undisguised awe, then looked at Dana and saw the sadness
still visible on her pretty pale face.
     Mulder should have been here, Scully thought wistfully.
Maybe he would act differently once he saw his child growing
within her. She had to believe he would.
     Maybe that was why he wouldn't come.
     This once-in-a-lifetime moment of joy was marred by his
absence, and she hurt so much.
     But as bad as it hurt she couldn't tear her eyes away from
the screen.    
     "Hello, little one." she whispered beneath her breath,
unaware that Ru was listening. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't
wait to meet you."
     She was going to be okay, Dancer thought. He removed his
hand from her shoulder, awkward with her in these circumstances.
But that was probably okay, he figured this made a lot of
expectant fathers nervous.
     "Mr.Dancer." The doctor didn't call him Ru. Something about
him just made her uncomfortable and her respected that. His
father would call it racial memory, from when their species
hunted one another. "We still need to get those blood samples
from you, we're running out of time here."
     His eyes flew to Dana's, mild panic in them, his hand
suddenly clutching her shoulder hard, and she understood without
asking.
     "We have to get to another appointment pretty quickly..."
she tried to think of something.
     "Why can't Dana take it?" he blurted suddenly.
     "Hmmm?" Hall was looking at him suspiciously.
     "We're always so busy..." Dana appeared thoughtful. "I could
just draw it myself when we have time and drop it off here when I
get the chance."
     "It will only take a minute..." Hall was ready to insist,
but decided it really wasn't her business. "Sure, you're a
doctor, Dana. I'll give you the works and you can take it." Was
he just afraid of needles and worried what people would think if
they knew? She'd seen tougher guys become wimps over a little
needle stick. If he wanted to do it in private, what did she
care?
     "So, get dressed and I'll have this picture ready for you."
she stepped out. Dancer followed her quickly, giving Dana a
chance to dress in private, getting outside where he could
breathe without the nasty smells that were making his head hurt.
     Leaning on the car, he decided that he owed Mulder for this.
If only for the headache.


     "Mr. Gorleski? I need to speak to Mr. Paul Gorleski."
     The voice on the other end of the phone was polite but
unfriendly.
     "Mr.Gorleski is on the floor right now and can't come to the
phone." 
     "This is federal business." he was getting angry, and afraid
of losing control. Everything seemed right on the edge, ready to
spill over into rage. "I would like to meet with him in private
but *I* *will* come down there and disrupt everything if you
insist!" he was snarling. A tiny corner of his mind thought that
he must sound like Dancer just now, but he ignored it.
     "I'll try to get him for you, sir."
     Mulder was on hold again, listening to country music. If it
could be *called* music.
     He should have gone to the factory to meet the man, but felt
just a tad bit paranoid today. Although they often didn't mean
anything, once in a great while these feelings were based in
fact. Considering the power of the people he might be dealing
with, better safe than sorry. There was no one at the house,
Mrs.Gorleski didn't work and had no close relatives. He'd watched
the house for four solid hours this morning -- if she was
shopping wouldn't she have come home by now?
     "This is Gorleski. Can I help you?" the voice was heavily
accented and wary.
     "My name is Fox Mulder, Mr.Gorleski, and I work for the FBI.
I'd like to speak to you and your wife, if that's possible."
     "My wife is unavailable." the man snapped. "What do you want
to know?"
     "I'd feel more comfortable if I could meet you someplace."
Mulder said. "When do you take lunch?"
     "Noon." he said it like 'you idiot'.
     "Can you meet me? I'll buy."
     There was silence on the other end as the man thought it
over.
     "Is this about the baby?" he sounded angry.
     "I'd rather not talk about it on the phone."
     "We signed a paper." 
     "I don't want to talk about Dr.Tomas's procedures or
techniques. I want to know what happened to your baby." Mulder
stressed the last. "Don't you want to know, Mr.Gorleski?"
     "Stanley's Barbecue on North 11th. Can you find it?"
     "I'll be there." Mulder promised, hanging up abruptly,
afraid he'd said too much already.
     He'd have to ask for directions, fast.


     Dana had a quiet day at the office, doing paperwork and
research, alternately missing Mulder and being pissed at him all
over again.
     Websurfing brought some interesting articles on Southwest
Research and Dr.Tomas that she downloaded to send to him the next
time they talk...whenever that would be. Their baby might
graduate high school first, and finish college before they slept
together again. Personally, Dana wasn't willing to go *that* long
without sex.
     She doodled idly on a notepad and realized that she was
writing names...baby names.
     William. And Wolf. (Wolf? Where had she gotten that one?)
And *Fox*. Like he was going to let her name him *that*. He hated
it.
     He probably wouldn't like Wolf, either, but she had a
feeling Ru would.
     Alexander. She'd always liked that one. Joshua, Adam. Strong
names.
     Okay. She thought about it, seriously, for the first time,
surprised she hadn't before. It was a long cry from her junior
high days when she scribbled the names of her future children
across the margins of notebooks. Of course their last names had
all been the same as the boys that wouldn't date her, a pale,
short, skinny redhead. Mulder would have been one of the geeks
she was 'just friends' with while she pined for the attention of
a football player.
     God. Last names. Of course it would have to be Dancer. How
was that going to make Mulder feel?
     Probably about as bad as he felt now, letting Dancer claim
his baby. It hurt her when he acted this way, but that didn't
mean she didn't understand. Unfortunately, after her initial
dismay, she agreed with him. It protected their job so they could
still work together, even if she wasn't sure the baby was in as
much danger as he thought.
     She rubbed the back of her neck, which itched occasionally.
*What she was thinking?* Of course the baby, any baby of her's or
Mulder's, was in danger, doubly if it was the child of both of
them.
     They were doing the right thing. The *only* thing they could
do under the circumstances.
     Sighing, she stood and stretched, checking the clock. It
wasn't quite six, but who was going to say anything? 
     She was going to drag Dancer to dinner and then get to bed
early...she was so tired all the time now...


     "Mr.Gorleski?" Mulder walked into the diner with a grimace.
The plain man sitting at the first table jumped at his low tone.
     "Can we walk outside?" wearing a nice suit, a bit rumpled,
Gorleski stood, not offering his hand.  
     "Whatever you want." he was going to get information from
this guy, Mulder could afford to be generous.
     They walked several blocks. It was a run-down neighborhood,
didn't look at all like this man's usual haunt.
     "Celia went to visit her sister in Alabama." Gorleski said
at last. "I'm not sure she's coming back."
     Incapable of sympathy at this point, Mulder held his tongue.
     "She thinks it's my fault, I guess." the man paused, turned
to Mulder, his eyes begging for understanding."She didn't want to
go to Tomas, said he gave her a creepy feeling. But I wanted a
baby...a son of my own. I know we could've adopted eventually.
But I wanted *my* child."
     Mulder nodded, noncommittal.
     "She was so happy to be pregnant. We signed all the
papers...they said they were just routine, that nothing would
really happen."
     "What did the papers say, Mr.Gorleski?" Mulder tried to be
sensitive.
     "Lots of things." he shrugged. "They could sue me for
talking to you. But with Celia gone that doesn't seem to matter
anymore."
     They stopped walking again and Mulder prodded gently.
     "Did you give Tomas permission to run tests on your wife and
baby?"
     "He performed 'viability enhancing' procedures. That's what
he called them. I don't know what any of them actually were, but
I know Celia would come home crying about them. And after her
eggs were harvested and I donated my part, they waited three
weeks before they implanted them. Other clinics wait four or five
days, at the most. I've wondered since then what he was doing to
our baby when it was just a cluster of defenseless cells. If I
had
protected it, it might have lived."
     "Your wife miscarried." Mulder could barely say it. Despite
all the pain, the fear, the anguish Scully's pregnancy was
causing him, he couldn't imagine the pain and guilt of losing
that baby now.
     "She started to bleed and we called the doctor. He said to
come to the clinic and not the hospital...I didn't want to. I was
afraid of losing Celia too. But she insisted, said she wanted to
save her baby...they wouldn't let me in the delivery room..."
     "How far along was your wife?"
     "Six-and-a-half months."
     "What happened after the baby was born?" they stopped again,
now standing in the opening of an alley, the too-sweet smell of
rotting cabbage strong in the air.
     Gorleski lowered his head and wouldn't meet Mulder's eyes.
     "One of the papers we signed...it said they got to keep the
body and perform an autopsy if it didn't go to term. Celia swore
they could have tried to save him...it was a boy...but that they
refused...that was right before she left me. They kept the body
and we didn't even have anything to bury."
     "Do you know what they did with the body, Mr.Gorleski?"
Mulder leaned close, invading personal space.
     Gorleski shook his head.
     "They didn't tell us. They just reminded us that we'd signed
those papers and sent us on our way."
     They were both quiet, Gorleski reliving the trauma, Mulder
considering his next action.
     He decided he wanted to try to make this man feel better, if
only because Scully would have expected it of him.
     "Call your wife, Mr.Gorleski. Tell her everything you told
me about wanting a child. Then tell her that the FBI is
investigating Tomas and you're cooperating. Perhaps she'll listen
to you and you can talk about the hurt you've both suffered."
     Gorleski frowned at him.
     "What are you, some kind of shrink?"
     "Yeah." Mulder answered as he turned to walk away. "Some
kind."

     
     She was sleeping so soundly, he hated to wake her. But he
had to go out tonight, and she was sleeping on his arm.
     "Dana." he shook her shoulder with his free hand. "Honey. Go
to bed, you're exhausted."
     She sat up with bleary eyes.
     "Ru? Huh?"
     He pulled his arm and flexed the stiffness out of it.
     "Go to bed. I need to run,and you need to sleep."
     "Oh. Yeah." she stood unsteadily and he reached to help her
balance, his hands on her waist.
     Their eyes met and he removed his hands quickly.
     "I'll be back in the morning." he said softly, getting up
and heading for the window.
     "Ru?" he turned at her voice, sleepy and curious.
     "Dana."
     "You don't really run, do you?"
     He grinned, the expression covering his face with half-glee.
     "Sure I do. Just not the way you would."
     He was out the window before she could ask anything else.
     Dana changed out of her suit and into Mulder's boxers and T-
shirt. She missed him, but this helped a little bit. Enough to
let her sleep alone. Curling under the covers she clutched the
phone in one hand, determined to make it ring...she slept again.


     "Thanks, Frohike." Mulder breathed in a whisper as the
gadget his subversive friend had given him a year ago proved
itself again now.
     The security system was on hold momentarily, giving him
just enough time to get to the console and adjust it to accept
his presence...this wouldn't work for just anyone, they would
have to have his memory and intelligence...*there*. He was in
safely.
     The lobby was just the way it had looked the last time he
was here, but his time he wasn't interested in the small Monet
and Botticelli originals on the wall. Tonight he was looking for
proof.
     He was a little beyond legalities here. He knew that. But
this was too important. He had to see if there were any names in
Tomas' files that he recognized. He had to *know*.
     If he was caught Skinner would throw him to the wolves.
     He just hope Dancer was the one that caught him.
     The thought made him grin and he shook his head as he
attached the keycode device to Tomas' office door.
     Good thing Roddy wasn't here. She'd have a fit.

     "He's in." Roddy sat back and sighed. She didn't like using
Mulder this way, no matter what a jerk he was. If he was caught
they wouldn't claim him, but if he found anything they would have
an excuse to get a search warrant and clear the place out.
Because she thought he was right, something unsavory was going on
here...now they just had to see what he did next.

     It took a few tries, but the backdoor on Tomas's computer
was pathetically easy to guess. His mother's birthday and the
license plate number of his Porche. Predictable, and boring.
     The menu presented many choices, none of them sounded like
what he wanted.
     "Where did you hide it...?" he went for the most
unbelievable of the entries, 'Politics for Fun and Profit', which
turned out to be a list of lobbyists paid on the clinic's behalf,
complete with success rates and perks given.
     'The Hope of the Future' proved to be the jackpot. The
password was harder, he had to use the codebreaker. This
was a handy little gadget. Langley had said that another semi-
secret group, this one composed of hackers and ex-military men,
had brought it to them for safekeeping several years ago and
hadn't shown up since. The leader had been tall and blond and
good-looking, a Robert Redford-type.
     He picked a disc at random from the box and authorized the
computer to overwrite it, downloading everything in the
file...and waited.
     But not too long.

     "Agent Mulder. Breaking and entering, industrial espionage?"
the voice was angry but quiet.
     Mulder snapped around as the light came on. He'd been
working by the light of the screen.
     He'd though everyone had gone home by now.
     Dr.Tomas was pointing a very large gun at him.
     He smiled with his next words.
     "It's too bad I have to shoot you as a trespasser." he
pulled the hammer back and Mulder threw himself to the side,
scrambling to get behind the desk for the little protection it
might offer.
     The shot was loud going off.

     "We have gunfire!" the voice came clear over Roddy's
headset. She and Smith scrambled out of the surveillance car as
the clinic lit up like Christmas, the alarms sounding in shrill,
strident tones.
     "We're going in!" she yelled back as they went through the
front door without benefit of a key. With the alarms going off
and
no need for secrecy it didn't matter that the door didn't survive
it.
     "This way!" she led Smith at a run down the hall, to Tomas'
office, knowing she would find Mulder there....
     "Freeze!" Smith yelled and Roddy grimaced even as she
disarmed Tomas.
     Chastened, Mulder crawled out from under the desk, but,
instead of yelling at her for following him, he went back to the
computer and found the information was already transferred.
     "He was trespassing!" Tomas was screaming, a hint of his
native castillian sneaking into his accent now, under stress.
"He threatened me!"
     "With what?" Roddy studied Mulder, told him again with her
eyes that she desired him, and then gave the now handcuffed
doctor a hard shake.
     "I brought my weapon." Mulder reluctantly pulled it from the
holster and showed it to her. It had not been fired.
     "This is manslaughter at the least." now she was getting
into someone's face and Mulder enjoyed the sight. 
     "I didn't kill anybody!"
     "You gave false hope. That's worse." Mulder stepped up and
shook his head at Roddy. "I think I have enough here to get a
late warrant so the real cops can toss the place."
     "That would be nice." she didn't smile at him.
     "Why'd you bail me out?" he asked as he left the building
beside her.
     "Because you were right. We might not like your methods, but
this saved babies. I'll ignore my personal feelings for that."
     Mulder smiled, just a little.
     "Maybe I can get you change them."

part#4
------
roll like thunder      
     
     He got home late the next night. He knew he'd been avoiding
it, knew he didn't want to face Scully. So he'd stayed in San
Antonio, done all the paperwork he could find related to the
case, studied every note Tomas had ever written, even took Roddy
to a combination apology/thank-you dinner and was charming
feeling guilty the whole time, his fingers digging into the
healing flesh of his arm.
     But now he was home. It was late, she should have been
asleep. He'd called her that night after they'd broken the case.
Told her that their names, his parents, his sister's, were
nowhere to be found in the clinic computers, unless they were
hidden *very* well, and he didn't think they had a computer
expert on the payroll.

     He put his suitcase on the stairs, determined just to look
in at her and then go on up.
     "Hi." he jumped slightly as she sat up and turned on the
bedside lamp. "I was wondering when you were going to get in. You
should have called, I would have come to get you."
     Steeling himself for the confrontation, he answered
carefully.
     "I didn't want to wake you."
     She got up, wearing his shirt and boxers again and he felt a
thrill run down his body.
     "I got some stuff for the baby, I wanted you to see it." she
took his hand, smiling, and he had to smile back. She looked so
pretty, so young and healthy and happy. 
     The way she should always look.
     The way she didn't look around him. The pain in his gut came
directly from his heart...did Dancer make her this happy?
     As long as she was happy, it didn't matter, he told himself
sternly as she led him down the wide hall to the den, which was
going to be the baby's room.
     "Close your eyes." she said, and he did, feeling foolish but
getting interested despite himself.
     She led him into the room and he heard the click of the
light switch.
     "Okay." she said, stepping behind him, her arms around his
waist as she looked around him. "Open them."
     He did.
     And immediately shut them again.
     "What do you think?" she sounded so excited, so pleased with
herself, how could he answer? He always hurt her...
     He looked again, hoping it wasn't as bad as he thought.
     But it was. The walls were sporting the image of a small
green martian in a big helmet, his bizarre little dog by his
side. They were on the sheets, the mobile, the blankets...
     "You don't like it." he'd waited too long to answer. 
     Mulder bit his lip, hard, felt the blood rush to the
surface.
     "What are you doing?!" she stared at him and he stopped,
startled.
     "I don't get it, Scully." it was a snarl born of fear and
pain.
     "What? If you don't like it, just say so. I can take it
back." she had her hands on her hips, facing him down.
     He felt the rage rise in him, turned, tried to walk out, but
she grabbed his arm and held on stubbornly, shouting at him now.
     "Well it's not like you were here to help!"
     She jumped back as he turned, took another step when she saw
his face, afraid she'd pushed him too far.
     "You want him to be comfortable when they take him, Scully?!
You want him to *recognize* them so he won't be scared?! Cause I
don't think it's gonna work!! I think he's gonna *scream* just
like Samantha did, just like you did, no matter how many cute
little aliens you put in his room!"
     Hearing himself, really hearing the words coming out of his
mouth, realizing that, for the first time in his life, he
*sounded like his father*, Mulder literally ran out of the room,
leaving Dana standing, shocked, to stare at the spot he had
stood.
     When he got upstairs he pulled out the pack of cigarettes
he'd bought at the airport and the lighter with the childproof
switch. Clutching them tightly in white-knuckled hands, he sat
heavily on the floor under the skylight and waited for the tears
to come.
     *Prayed* for the tears to come.
     And when they didn't, he began to *make* them.


     "hey." Dancer slipped in through the door like a shadow.
Curled on the couch -- she hadn't wanted to be alone in her big
bed -- Dana sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking for all the world
like a sleepy child.
     But a sleepy child had *never* made him feel like this.
     He sat beside her, concerned by the redness of her nose, the
puffiness of her eyes.
     "He didn't come home?" it was the only thing he could think
of offhand that would have made her cry like this.
     "He came home." she snorted in painful derision. "And yelled
at me for my choice of nursery decor."
     "Bastard." he'd had just about enough of this. "I'll talk to
him." he got up but her hand on his arm stopped him.
     "Leave him be. I'm going to see my mom tomorrow, I'll talk
to him after that."
     Ru sat back down.
     "Maybe he just needs some time alone."
     "Yeah." Dana said, slumping back down into the couch.
"Maybe."

     A triangle within the first one. Then three points around
it. Neat. Precise.
     It was hard to hold it steady while it burned, but he did,
because it had to look just right. The pattern had to be even,
perfect.
     He didn't even notice the tears that ran down his face as he
lit the second cigarette.
     But he did remember to put it out before he rolled over on
the floor and fell into sleep, the pain a constant song in his
body.
     He didn't want to do this to anyone else.


     "Dana. Honey. I'm so glad to see you." 
     Margaret Scully ushered her daughter into the kitchen, where
she was baking pies. Not for a holiday but just because it was a
crisp day and she felt like it.
     Dana smiled as she sat at the counter and her mom pinched
off a little piece of dough for her before picking up the rolling
pin and getting to it.
     It was squishy and elastic in her fingers. She rolled it
around, made little balls of it, finally formed it into a
string of pie-dough pearls, setting it on the cookie sheet beside
an already-filled shell.
     "I remember how you kids used to beg for pieces of dough so
you could make things." Margaret smiled at her, neatly folding a
circle in half and quarters before deftly transferring it into
another deep glass dish. She reached into the cabinet behind her
and pulled out an old spice jar filled with a mixture of cinnamon
and sugar, handed it to her.
     Solemnly Dana shook it over her creation.
     "I don't think Mulder ever did this." she said quietly. Her
mom glanced at her but began slicing the tart green apples that
were lying on a dishtowel beside the sink.
     "All the things I took for granted in my childhood. I don't
think Mulder ever got to do any of them."
     "Honey." Margaret said. "Katherine isn't an ogre. I know she
and Fox don't get along, but he did things. He went trick-or-
treating, he had sleepovers. Boy stuff." she said, but she didn't
sound so sure.
     "Not after Samantha was gone." Dana sighed, then stood and
went to her mother to hug her from behind. Margaret stood still,
pleased by this affection from her so-often stand-offish
daughter. "Did I ever thank you and daddy for giving me such a
good life?"
     "Of course you did, dear." Margaret felt dana pull away and
went on as if nothing had happened. "By becoming a wonderful
person. That's all the thanks we needed."
     "Is that how it works?" Dana sat back down, one hand on the
slight mound of her belly. Margaret glanced at her again, trying
to decide what to do. Speak up or listen? It was the hardest
decision for a parent to make.
     Dana made it for her by squeezing off another piece of dough
and beginning another creation in silence.
     Side-by-side, the Scully women baked. 
     And eventually they talked.

     "Thanks Mom." Dana gave her mother another hug, standing
beside her car. The sky was dark, purplish, the moon hiding in
the clouds. She didn't usually get home this late, she hoped Ru
was okay.
     "You bring those fellas of yours out for dinner soon."
Margaret smiled at her, including Dancer, accepting that he was a
part of her life now. Whatever was going on with her daughter, he
was a part of it. "Just give Fox some room. This can't be easy
for him, and you know he loves you."
     Dana smiled sadly. Her mom thought it was hard because she
was having another man's baby. She hadn't told her that, but
Margaret was assuming it, like she had known she would. Or maybe
she realized the truth but was playing along.
     "He hasn't changed, Dana." Margaret continued. "He's acted
like this before. You can't ask a person to change, not just for
you and not so quickly."
     It had only been a few weeks. Of course Mulder hadn't
adjusted yet.
     "I know." she got in her car, waved, and drove away.


     Dancer was still there when she got in. Sitting on the
floor, painstakingly constructing a tiny red tricycle.
     "Hey." he smiled when she came in. "Look what I got."
     "He won't be ready to use that for years." she laughed and
scolded, then looked around. There was no evidence anyone had
eaten dinner. "Did Mulder come down?"
     "Haven't seen him since you left." he tightened the last nut
and stood, holding it out in front of him. "But I didn't hear the
elevator."
     The huge freight elevator, which had made it possible for
them to get the furniture up here, made an awful clanking noise.
She thought it must be terrible for the people on the lower
floors, who heard it every time it was used, but up here they
only had to listen if they used it or someone took it to the
roof, which had only happened once.
     She put the pie on the counter top and smiled as Ru came
over and made a face.
     "It's not for you anyhow." she shook a finger at him. "Mom
sent it for Mulder."
     "He's welcome to it." Dancer opened a cabinet and pulled out
a box of jumbo beef jerky, unwrapping a fat stick and gnawing on
it contentedly.
     "I'm going to go up and talk to him."
     "I'll stay up in case you need me." he sat on the sofa while
she went to the back stairs.
     She paused before opening the door. This was the first time
she had done this, gone up to Mulder's place while he was home,
since they had moved in. It was sort of setting a precedent.
She'd never been able to just walk up to see him whenever she
wanted before.
     This was a real change.
     She thought about it as she went quietly up the narrow
stairs. He'd looked at the place with her, convinced her they
should move in. He wanted to live here with her and their baby.
     Maybe she was being too hard on him.


     It was dark again. But he didn't notice.
     All that mattered was the pain. 
     On the inside.
     The pain out.
     H knew that he needed the pain outside, to let the inside
pain come out. Twisted, convoluted, it worked, better than it had
when he was young.
     There was a pattern now, on the inside of his upper left
arm. A graphic, geometric figure. Hard as he tried, he couldn't
see anything in it.
     Abstract. Meaningless. Pretty but with no purpose.
     Like him.

     Still sitting beneath the skylight, his back to the room, he
didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs or the floor behind him.
     The tip of the cigarette glowed that Halloween-orange that
his body had learned to recognize. His stomach rolled, his balls
tightened, acid rose in his throat...and he put it to his arm,
ignoring the protest of his rational mind, banished behind lock
and key in a distant corner of his brain, unwanted, unheeded.
     "My God, Mulder, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!"
     The scream broke his reverie.
     Turning, he dropped the cigarette into his lap, where it
burned his bare leg and he flinched -- *it hurt*! -- and jumped
up, brushing it from him while Scully approached warily, her eyes
wide and astonished.
     "Scully?" he stared at her, seeing only a vision...had he
finally lost his mind? 
      "*Mulder*." she came close, grabbed his arm firmly in her
hands, twisted it around to the reflected light of a streetlamp
floating through the skylight. "What have you done?"
     Pity.
     He saw it in her eyes when she looked back to him from the
blistered, oozing mess on his arm. The one thing he could not
take from her.
     He opened his mouth, but there was nothing to say.
     So
 he turned and walked away, to the stairs, and down, Scully
following closely.
     "Mulder! Where are you going? Are you going to hurt
yourself? MULDER!!"
     Terrified, disgusted, she was determined not to let him get
away without talking to her, without explaining this...
     "Dancer! Stop him!!" she yelled as Mulder burst out of the
stairs and ran down the hallway. Without questioning the short
man stepped in front of her partner, who reached to shove him
aside but met brick wall.
     Dancer stood firm, grabbing Mulder's arms, smelling the
blood and burned flesh, dismayed.
     "Fox. Hey, dude, get a grip..." he tried to soothe, but
Mulder wasn't hearing him, was pushing and shoving and
struggling, some part of him astonished by Dancer's superior
strength.
     It became a struggle. Dancer held on and Mulder fought him
like a man possessed.
          Tiring, becoming dangerously angry, on the verge of
doing something he *couldn't* control, Dancer threw Mulder to the
floor and wrapped him up in a professional basket hold, trapped
by his own arms and his own weight, Mulder finally set his tongue
loose.
     "Get the fuck off me, you freak! Let me up! *Dana*! Get him
off me! LET ME GO!!!!" the last of it was a drawn-out scream that
faded to silence as he stilled.
     Dancer held him tightly, waiting for a rational response.
Panting, Dana knelt beside Mulder's head, trying to understand,
wanting to talk to him, to make it better...
     But Mulder wasn't there.
     His eyes were closed and he was breathing in shallow pants.
He didn't respond to stimuli, not words or touches or pain when
she examined his arm.
     She looked at Dancer, her terror written starkly on her
face.
     He looked back, unable to offer comfort or even assistance.
     "I've got to go." he said softly, regretting it more than
anything he'd ever said in his life. "The fight...I *have* to get
out..."
     With a lunge he turned Mulder over and lifted the larger man
like a baby with no apparent effort, laying him on the sofa
tenderly, turning to Scully, his eyes wide and glittering yellow,
hands curling into fists at his sides.
     "Don't do anything till I get back..." he begged. "Give him
a chance to recover on his own...." he couldn't get out anything
else. With a low whine he ran for the window and disappeared down
the fire escape.
     Stunned, Dana went to the sofa and sat beside Mulder, who
slumped like a rag doll.

     After a while she got up and got her first aid kit, cleaned
and bandaged the burns, spreading pain-killing salve delicately
over the raw tissue.
     He might need a graft. Some of them were third-degree, burns
on top of burns.
     How long had he been doing this?
     Why hadn't she noticed?  
     He mind ran over the past weeks, times when she had thought
he was moving oddly, acting strangely. She'd chalked it up to
stress.
     Well, I guess he was stressed all right, she managed a
bitter chuckle.
     At last she covered him with a blanket, cuddled close to
him, and turned on the TV. CNN, chipper voices droning on about
things that didn't matter to her if he wasn't okay.

     Dancer crept in near dawn. He looked better.
     He brought her soup and milk and sat on Mulder's other side.
     But Mulder still didn't move. He wasn't asleep, he opened
his eyes and stared into space for hours at a time and then
closed them again. But he wouldn't talk to them, wouldn't look at
them.
     "Catatonia?" Ru asked her around noon. They had been trying
to watch a movie on HBO.
     "Not exactly." Dana brushed her fingers over Mulder's face.
He didn't move. "Semi, maybe. Self-induced hypnosis? I don't
know."
     "He'll be okay." Ru said quietly, firmly. "He just needed to
get it out of his system."
     But he winced and turned away when she uncovered the arm to
spread more antibiotic cream on it.
     "That's wrong." he said when she was done. "To hurt yourself
that way. I don't understand."
     "Neither do I."


     The moon rose again but Dancer remained with her. The night
before had filled him for a while, he could ignore her silver
call tonight.
     They were watching Conan after Dave when Mulder finally
moved.
     Actually, he didn't move much. Just his lips.
     "*sorry*, Scully..." his eyes were still closed.
     Jumping like she'd been shocked, Dana reined her emotions in
and leaned close to whisper by his face.
     "Mulder...it's okay. I love you."
     Now he opened his eyes and she was surprised to see no tears
in them.
     "I know." he paused, seeming to search for words. "I love
you too...I just don't know what to do with it sometimes."
     "Not this." she touched his arm and he flinched. "Never
again, Mulder. Promise me."
     "Anything, Scully." he sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm so
tired."
     "Why don't we take a bath and go to bed." she stood,
glancing at Dancer, who smiled at them.
     He let himself be pulled from the couch and into the
bathroom.
     Behind them Dancer kept smiling.
     It was going to be okay. 
     Really.


     She bathed him with gentle hands, sitting cross-legged in
front of him in the deep whirlpool tub. He sat up straight, eyes
studying her face, wondering.
     He laid a hand on the curve of her stomach and she smiled.
     "You haven't seen the sono picture yet. He's a great-looking
kid, just like his dad." she said lightly.
     "I didn't find anything." he said. "Nothing about Mom, about
Sam or you."
     "So it's okay."
     "I don't know." he closed his eyes and leaned forward into
her chest, her arms came around him. "I don't know why I did it,
Scully. It just seemed easier if the hurt was visible, obvious,
where I could reach it. Like then it couldn't sneak up on me."
     "And it let you feel things when you were afraid to."
     He sat back up.
     "The wrong things. I'm sorry I yelled. Sorry I ignored you.
Sorry I cut you out."
     He offered no excuses, no reasons. Just bald apology.
     "I know." she stood, reaching for a towel. "I understand."
     He followed, sat beside her on the bed.
     "Do you?" his eyes caught hers, still wide and worried.
     She leaned close and kissed him gently, his eyes staring
into hers.
     "Yes." she sighed against his lips. 
     They didn't need words now. He poured his love and pain
equally into their lovemaking, giving everything to her and more,
cleansing himself of his fears and leaving him whole in her arms.
     "As long as we can talk...as long as we make love." she
whispered to him as they lay tight together afterwards. "We'll be
okay."
     He didn't answer, idly tracing fingers around her stomach,
thinking of the child within.
     "Do you believe me?" she leaned to whisper, a hand in  his
hair.
     He looked at her. There was a new peace, hard-won, in his
dark eyes.
     "Yes."
     And that was enough.
     
    
the end