Title:           Silent Lucidity (1 of ?)
Author:          Paige Caldwell
Email:           paigecaldwell@hotmail.com
Classification:  MSR, AU, Angst
Spoilers:        Season 8 and beyond
Rating:          NC-17 (in parts)
Summary:         What it is was all a dream?  What
                 if you wake to find that the man you
                 loved was never abducted and the child
                 you gave birth to never existed?  Or
                 did he?  



Part 1 of ? 


Hush now, don't you cry
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye
You're lying safe in bed
It was all a bad dream
Spinning in your head

Your mind tricked you to feel the pain
Of someone close to you leaving the game of life
So here it is, another chance
Wide awake you face the day
Your dream is over... or has it just begun?


Mulder found her unconscious beneath an oak tree, her crimson
hair faded to blend in with the brown leaves that covered her. 
Summer had given way to Winter, where the cool fall transition
was lost to his frantic search.  He spared no time or effort to
find her. By day, he roamed the desert highways, pursuing the
invisible ship's latest coordinates.  By night, he tracked the
stars, hoping that one would fall to earth and return her to him.
When he could no longer distinguish dawn from twilight, he closed
his eyes and awakened to the silent lucidity of his mind.
  
It was there that he found her, dreaming his dreams, waiting for
him where it all began.

Bellefleur, Oregon.

Beneath the leaves she was naked, her body contorted into a fetal
position.  Judging by her weak pulse, she had been there for hours,
if not longer, with only nature's decay to keep her warm.  Panicked,
he stripped off his coat and spread it out like a blanket.  He
pried her clawed fingers from the dirt and lifted her gently into
his arms.  He wasn't sure if she could hear him, but he spoke to
her anyway.

"I've got you, Scully," he said.  "You're safe... You're home."

She stirred as he wrapped her in his coat, her lashes fluttering
open to the sound of his voice.

"Mulder?" she whispered his name.

"I'm here," he responded, hovering over her as he dug his cell
phone out of his pocket. Tears of relief streamed down his face,
washing the grime from her cheeks.  She gazed up at him, dazed
and confused.

"Where's William?" she choked out.
  
"Hang on, Scully," Mulder said, stroking her coarse hair as he
punched 911 into his cell phone.  He gave the operator his FBI
credentials and requested immediate air assistance. Once he was
told that a med-evac helicopter was being dispatched to his
location, Mulder turned his attention back to his partner.

"Where is he?" Scully asked again.  She was disoriented, her pale
blue eyes darting from side to side as she tried to free herself
from the confines of his coat. Mulder pulled her against his chest,
hoping to warm her and still the frantic twisting of her limbs.

"Who, Scully?"

"William," she repeated the name between her dry, cracked lips.
"Our son, Mulder.  Where is he?"

"Our son?"  Mulder winced at her words.  He flashed back to their
last night together when he cradled her in arms and whispered his
regret.  If only he had known then that the price of his obsession
wasn't just her infertility, but Scully, herself.  So many months
ago.  So many missed opportunities to prevent the trauma that
caused her current confusion.
  
Her abduction.

"It's okay, Scully." He tried to downplay the truth by making it
surreal. "It was only a dream. It's over."

Her pupils retreated behind a vacant stare.
  
The dream was over, but the nightmare had just begun.


**********


Scully woke to the sound of Mulder's steady breathing and the feel
of his hair beneath her fingertips.  He was asleep in a chair, his
upper torso hunched over her hospital bed.  She remembered very
little of the past few days.  She knew that she had been admitted
for exposure and dehydration, although she suspected that the
doctors were monitoring her for other reasons.  As was Mulder. 
He had refused to leave her side from the moment he found her.

She stroked his unruly hair, knowing that even in sleep she had
reached out to comfort him.  Perhaps in her dreams she had imagined
his fear and exhaustion.  At least that's what she wanted to think,
that illusion somehow found it's basis in reality. How else could
she explain all these months of dreaming a life that never happened?
Mulder wasn't the one mysteriously taken from Bellefleur, Oregon.
She was. That fateful step into the energy field had been her last.
  
She had been abducted.

"Abducted", Scully whispered to herself.  Strange, learning the
truth was far worse than living the lie.  She had no memory of her
abduction, no scars or physical signs that she had been abused.
The only trauma she suffered was to her psyche. The past eight
months never existed.

Never existed...

She should be grateful.  Mulder was alive and well.  He didn't
suffer the imagined torture or die and rise again.  There was no
Doggett to resent or ultimately appreciate.  No Reyes, no bizarre
whale calls, no pregnancy to protect... 

No baby to love...

William....

Scully closed her eyes, picturing his tiny face.  She could still
feel him, the softness of his cheek and the downy fuzz that covered
his small head.  She could hear his cries and feel the let-down
of her breast milk. It was so easy to add sound and sensation to
the dream, for in her mind, William was real.  As real as the pain
she felt giving birth to him.  As real as the joy on Mulder's face
when she surrender their son to his willing arms.
  
The dream was over, but she couldn't stop herself from replaying
its final moments.  It was a scene of great happiness, where all
her doubts faded to black and her mind's eye panned back to a
loving kiss.  If only she could do more than repeat it. If only
she could go back and continue to live it.

"Scully..."  

The sound of his voice broke her fantasy.  She opened her eyes
to find Mulder awake, his hazel eyes alert and suspicious.
  
"You want to go back?" he asked.

Scully pulled the bed sheet to her chin, hoping to draw a curtain
over her shuddering pain. Judging by the panic on his face, she
had spoken her thoughts aloud.  Before he considered her deranged,
she searched her mind for an excuse. "Back to D.C.," she lied,
steadying her voice so there was no hint of a sob. "I want to go
home, Mulder."

Mulder paused, giving her a doubtful look before running a hand
through his hair. "Soon," he promised, sounding agitated.  "First,
the doctors need to run a couple more tests."

"Like what?" she asked.  She, too, was capable of suspicion. "I
want to see my chart, Mulder."

"Wouldn't you rather see your mother?" he deflected, glancing at
his watch. "She should be here any minute."

"You found her?" Scully struggled to sit up.  "Where was she?"

"About half way to California in her U-Haul," Mulder said. 
"Remember, I told you that she sold her house."

"Yes, I remember," she responded in a tiny voice.  It made sense
that her mother would pull up the family stakes and move to San
Diego.  Bill and Tara were there, as well as a grandson to adore.
It hurt.  Hurt that her family presumed her dead.  Hurt even more
that she had returned with only an imaginary child to console her
mother.

"Are you okay, Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder."  She delivered her line like rehearsed dialogue.
The last thing she needed was for Mulder to get inside her head and
realize that she was mourning a fabricated loss.  She would have to
be careful.  He wasn't just a profiler.  He was part of her soul.
She would have silence the scream before he heard it.

*********


"How is she?" Skinner asked him later that afternoon.

"She's visiting with her mother," Mulder informed him, leaning over
a water fountain.  Instead of drinking, he cupped the water in the
palm of his hand and splashed it across his face.  For now, it would
have to substitute for a shower.

"You look like shit, Mulder."  As always, Skinner came right to the
point. "Why don't you take a break and go back to the hotel?"

"Because the shit's about to hit the fan," he remarked, drying his
face on his sleeve. "Earlier, Scully asked to see her hospital chart."

"Is that a problem?" his boss asked.

"Yeah," he sighed, slouching against the wall of the hospital
corridor. "I'm just surprised that she hasn't already figured
it out."

"Figured out what?"

"You haven't seen her yet, have you?"

"No," Skinner admitted. "I've been too busy tracking down Mrs.
Scully."

Mulder nodded, hoping his eyes conveyed his thanks. "You know,
when I first found her I didn't even notice."

"Noticed what?" Skinner stared at him hard, his eyes like bits
of black agate.  

"The added weight, her swollen breasts..."

"What the hell are you implying, Mulder?"

Mulder drew his breath and told him. "According to the doctors,
Scully gave birth several weeks ago."

"What?" Skinner barked. "How can that be?"

"I'm not sure," he commented, rubbing his temples. He was tired
and the possibilities were playing tricks with his mind.  "The
aliens may have impregnated her with human/alien DNA to see if
they could harvest their own genetic hybrid, or..."

"Or?"  Skinner instantly picked up on the hesitancy in his 
voice.

"They abducted her because they knew she was already pregnant."
he relayed.  "Before she or I did..."

**********


Their son wasn't a figment of her imagination.  

He was real.  

William was real.

The scream escaped from her lips before she could stop it. She
yanked the IV line from her hand and swung her legs to the side
of the bed.  "Get the nurse," Mulder told her mother urgently.
"She needs a sedative."

Sedative.  He wanted to stop her, force her to sleep now that
the dream was a reality.  Enraged, she began to fight him, clawing
and kicking her way to an imagined freedom.  Mulder pinned her
back against the hospital bed, using his weight to imprison her.
  
"Let me go," she shrieked. The blood on her fingers smeared the 
determined lines on his face.

"It's okay, Scully," he said, gritting his teeth. "I'll find him.
I promise you I won't stop until I find your son."

"He's your son, too," she cried, struggling against him. "You'll
deny it until you see him, but in the end, you'll acknowledge
him as your own."

His eyes inches from hers, Mulder blinked.  He looked startled
by her accusation. For a minute, she thought he would release her.
But he didn't. Instead, he forced her arm to the side so that the
nurse could administer the injection.

"What you fear are the possibilities..." she whispered, her voice
dropping with the beat of her heart.  "The truth we both know."

As her eyes closed, she felt drops of moisture fall on her face. 
She wondered if it was her blood... or his tears.

Part 2 of ? 

Mulder sat in the shadows of the hospital room, waiting for
Scully to drift back to consciousness.  It was late and they
were alone.  The night nurse had just checked her vitals and
added another strip of medical tape to secure her IV line. She
reassured him that the sedative would have no lasting effects,
that Scully would awaken feeling sluggish, but calmer.  He
didn't bother to contradict her prognosis. The same instincts
that had led him to Scully also told him to stay close by her
side.  He sensed her unrest, even in sleep. She was dreaming.
He wondered where it would take her, where it would take them
both.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her dream, but doubt
obscured his vision and hurt tinged his thoughts.  She had
shown him a masterpiece, a family portrait, and then accused
him of not being an art lover.  He would never deny his own
child, but he had to remember that the aliens were capable of
forgeries.  Just as they were capable of weaving a tapestry
of lies to keep Scully a captive audience.
  
Mulder knew one thing for certain.  Scully was traumatized,
not by the dream of her past but her current reality.  He
would have to watch over her closely.  Get inside her head.
Profile her every move.  He had lost her before due to his
carelessness.  He wouldn't repeat the same mistake.  If she
was determined to relive the dream, he was going to be there
to guide her. He would make damn certain that no harm came
to her, either physically or emotionally.
  
But first, she needed to return to stable ground.  That meant
an uncompromising attitude, a hard rather than gentle hand.
For now, he would have to play skeptic to her believer. She
might resent him.  She might even hate him.  But a temporary
estrangement was a small price to pay for saving her mind.

"Help me...."

Mulder could hear the whisper even before it formed on her
lips.  He leaned forward in his chair and reached for her
hand. "I'm here, Scully."

She tossed her head against the pillow, murmuring over and
over. "Help me find him...."

"I'll find him," he repeated his earlier promise. "But I have
to find you first."

Scully whimpered was sounded like a protest.  Her eyes moved
rapidly beneath closed lids, tears squeezing out of each
corner.  He caught one on his fingertip and studied it in
the darkness.  For a minute it looked like blood.  But then
he adjusted his sight so he couldn't visualize her pain.  It
was a tear.  It may cause him to bleed inside, but he couldn't
afford to show it.

"I know you're scared," he said, willing her to listen. "Just
as I know that you can hear me.  Scully, when you wake up
tomorrow, I want you to face the day.  You need to see past
the dream if you're ever going to understand it."

"I can't," she mumbled, trying to pull away.

"You have to," he insisted, tightening his grip. "I'm going
to need your help to find him, Scully.  If the illusion is
based in reality, I need your help to distinguish the two."

Mulder waited for her to respond. When she didn't, he placed
her hand back on the bed and watched her shallow breathing.
She had fallen back to sleep and to the solace of her dreams.

He waited a few minutes before pulling out his cell phone.
Dialing Skinner's number, he sat back in his chair. "Find
anything, sir?" he asked.

"Nothing," Skinner answered. "The search team combed the
entire area, Mulder.  No signs of life.  In fact, nothing
to indicate that Scully's baby was returned with her.  And
I can't say that I'm sorry.  The last thing I want to find
is an infant dead from exposure."

"Me either," he agreed. "But we have to consider all the
possibilities."

"Does that include the possibility that you may never find
him?"

Mulder rubbed the delicate tear between his fingers. "No
sir," he said firmly. "That is the one possibility I refuse
to consider."


**********


"I wish you'd change your mind," her mother pleaded. Scully sat
on the edge of her bed, trying to button a blouse that was one
size too small.  Her breasts, swollen and tender, prevented a
comfortable fit.  Sighing, she reached for a sweater.

"Let me help you, honey," her mother offered.

"I don't need any help getting dressed," she retorted. "I need
your help to find my son."

"Dana, we've been over that," her mother replied. "Fox told you
that the FBI searched the entire area.  They found nothing."

Scully avoided her mother's hurt look by jerking the sweater
over her head. "Then we need to look again," she insisted.

"No, we need to look after you.  Give you time to recover from
your loss." 

"The only thing I've lost is time," she cried, her voice
sounding as frayed as the wool around her neck. "William is
out there, Mom.  But I'm not going to find him lounging by a
pool in San Diego."

"Will you find him by going back to D.C.?" Margaret Scully
countered. 

"Mulder said we have to consider all the possibilities," she
said stubbornly. "I'm in a better position to do that by going
back to work."

Her mother sighed and dropped her purse on the hospital bed.
"Your hair is a mess," she commented, opening it. "If you won't
take me up on my offer, will you at least borrow my brush?"

Scully tensed inwardly, not at her mother's criticism but
because she spotted something in her purse. Car keys.  The idea
took shape inside her mind as her voice smoothed out the edges
of deceit. "I don't suppose you have any chap stick," she remarked,
fingering her dry lips.
  
"I might." Turning over the purse, her mother dumped its contents
on her bed.  Scully leaned over to look, pretending interest as
her hand covered the car keys. "You know, Mom, maybe you're right.
A couple of weeks with family might be exactly what I need."

"Are you serious?" her mother asked hopefully.

Scully nodded. "The only problem is Mulder. I don't want to
disappoint him, considering everything he's done."

In a way, she was telling the truth.  Mulder was the problem.
He certainly had done everything in his power to block her every
move. She didn't want to disappoint him.  She wanted to ditch
him.

"I could talk to him," her mother suggested.
  
"Would you?" she asked, dropping her gaze in an effort to look
ashamed rather than guilty. "He's downstairs in the coffee shop."

"Of course." Margaret patted her shoulder approvingly. "I'll be
right back."

"I'm sorry," Scully whispered as her mother left her room. She
counted the seconds instead of her sins.  She would repent
later.  Slipping on her boots, she headed towards the door.
The nurses didn't even notice her. They were busy with their
morning rounds and she was dressed in street clothes.  Besides,
she was scheduled to be discharged anyway.  So what if she left
a little early and by the stairs of the fire escape?
  
She just hoped that she wasn't too late to change this miserable
reality.


***********


"I left her right here," Margaret Scully insisted when Mulder
returned from interrogating the nurses. "It was only a few
minutes, Fox.  How could she have just disappeared?"

His eyes swept the hospital room before they landed on the bed.
The contents of Mrs. Scully's purse were scattered across the
sheets.  He did a quick inventory then asked. "Where are you car
keys?"

The woman patted her pockets, flustered to find them empty. "I
thought I took them with me.  Oh my God, how could I've been so
careless?"

"Don't blame yourself," he responded, placing a comforting
hand on her arm. "I should have warned you that she's still
traumatized."

"I'm her mother," Margaret lamented. "I should have known better."

Mulder resisted the urge to commiserate. He should have known
better than to go downstairs and infuse himself with caffeine
while Scully was percolating an escape plan.  She had duped them
both.  "It's okay, Mrs. Scully. I know where she's going."

"Back to the forest?"

He nodded, turning to leave before she saw the panic in his
eyes.  He knew what Scully was looking for.  She didn't intend
to search the area for her missing son.  She was looking for a
way back, an energy field to transport her into a preferred
existence.  It no longer mattered who created it, Scully or
her alien abductors.  All he knew was that he had to stop her.

Mulder left the hospital and hurried to his car.  The sound of
tires screeching against the slick parking lot didn't prompt him
to slow down. He sped up the ramp to the highway.  It was starting
to snow. Pellets of ice mixed in with the flakes, alerting him to
the unpredictability of the weather.  And, his partner. Within a
few hours, he could find himself stranded on the side of a road
while Scully was hitchhiking her way back to the stars.

He followed the mile markers, counting down each one until he
saw a car in the distance.  It was parked along the shoulder. He
added his own pair of skid marks and stopped along side of it.
Reaching for his coat, he opened his car door and stepped out
onto the pavement.  Beneath his feet was a faded orange "X".

"Deja vu all over again," he commented to himself, glancing up
at the sky. Clouds were gathering overhead with the same terrible
icy, inhuman speed of a cloaked spaceship. Cupping his hands
around his mouth, he yelled her name.
  
"Scully...."

His voice carried on the wind, echoing through the trees.  He
didn't wait for a response.  Instead, he ran through the woods,
following her tracks before the snow covered them. He found the
first of several yellow tapes which bordered the FBI's search
location. It led him back to the oak tree where she was kneeling
on the grave of her disintegrated dreams. Gusts of cold air
swirled the leaves around her, sprinkling frost on her auburn
hair.

Mulder approached her cautiously, not wanting to frighten her.
When he stepped on a branch, she startled and jumped to her
feet. "Mulder, what are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," he said.
  
She lifted her eyes to the sky. "I was praying."

"For what?" he asked cynically. "For God to deliver your son
or for the aliens to take you back?"

Her gaze leveled to his. "Does it matter?"

"Hell yes, it matters," he replied. "I'm not going to lose you
again, Scully."

When she backed away from him, Mulder reached inside his coat
pocket for a pair of handcuffs.  Before she could run, he grabbed
her hand and clamped one cuff around her wrist.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled.

"Something you made necessary," he stated. He took off his coat
and draped it around her shoulders.  She averted her eyes,
refusing to acknowledge his concern.  He snapped his own cuff
in place and gave her a small tug. "Let's go."

She said nothing, trudging along side of him like a prisoner of
war.  Her eyes were focused straight ahead.  Her steps did not
falter.  But by the time they reached the road, her stoic facade
crumbled.  She glanced over her shoulder, tears melting the
flurries on her cheeks. "Mulder," she whispered his name. "I
can't leave here without William."

He pulled her against him while he opened the car door. For a
brief moment he allowed himself the luxury of comforting her.
He tightened his embrace and lowered his lips to her forehead.
When she lifted her chin and he saw the tearful plea in her eyes,
he took a step back. 

In a firm voice he said, "Get in."


***********


"We're not going to stay here," she protested when Mulder 
stopped the car.  They were in front of the same motel where
it all began.

"Given the amount of snow on the road, I don't think we have
a choice," he replied, turning off the radio.  Winter weather
alerts had been broadcasted for the area. Due to high winds,
the airport had cancelled all flights. "I'll check us in first,
then stop at the country store to pick up coffee and something
to eat."

"So what are you going to do, Mulder?" she asked. "Cuff me to
the steering wheel?"

He flashed her an indignant look.  "I'm taking you with me."

"You're going to parade me around like a convicted felon?"

"Of course not," he replied, reaching across her legs to the
glove compartment. Opening it, he produced the key to the
handcuffs. "I'm not trying to humiliate you, Scully."

She pulled her knees back. "Then what are you trying to do?"

"Protect you," he said, unlocking both cuffs.

"From what?" She rubbed her wrist. "Myself?"

Mulder didn't answer her. Instead, he got of the car and escorted
her inside the small office of the motel.  She couldn't believe
that he would bring her back to this place, even if it was the
only roadside motel near Bellefleur.  Disbelief faded to anger
when he requested only one room.  Suffering the indignity of 
being handcuffed was one thing. Sharing the same room was another.

"I don't deserve to be treated like this," she protested once
they were outside.

"Your mother didn't deserve to be treated like a fool."  His
response was curt and his decision was non-negotiable. Biting
her lip, she followed him into the store where they picked up
sandwiches and coffee.  When she asked for a tube of chap stick,
he gave her a quick look before nodding at the man behind the
counter.

"Throw in a bottle of hand lotion," Mulder added, pulling out
his wallet.

"It's not necessary," she asserted.

"The metal chafed your skin," he noted, passing her the cups of
coffee. 

Once inside their room, Scully called her mother and apologized.
The relief in her mother's voice reduced her to tears. Turning
her back to Mulder, she hung up the phone. "I need to use the
bathroom," she mumbled. "I promise not to crawl out the window."

Closing the door behind her, Scully turned on the faucet of the
sink.  She buried her face in her hands and began to sob, hoping
that the full blast of water would drown out the sound of her
agony. She had lost so much, her son, the trust of her mother and
her partner's respect. She dared not consider Mulder as her lover.
For all she knew, those few nights of passion may have never
existed.  

What if the dream started long before her abduction? What if she
created false memories in an effort to still the yearnings of her
soul?

The possibility made her gasp and look up to the mirror. That's
when she saw him standing behind her.  Mulder.  Was it his
reflection or a window, where two worlds collided behind the
looking glass of her mind?  She reached out to touch the face
in the mirror.  If only she could move through it and return
to him.

Suddenly, she was spun around where her fingers grazed the stubble
on his cheek. "Were we ever lovers?" she cried desperately. "Did
I imagine that too?"

"Does this feel like a dream?" he asked, lowering his lips to
hers. He kissed her deeply, with enough tenderness to allay her
fears and enough passion to give her hope. She couldn't have
imagined detail like this, the feel of his mouth against hers...
the rush of emotions... the fire in her veins.... It was real.
He was real.

Mulder broke the kiss and tilted her chin higher, forcing her
to look into his eyes. "What you fear are the possibilities,"
he reminded her. "The truth we both know."


To be continued....

Part 3 of ? 


They sat at the table, sipping coffee and watching the snow
fall.  Mulder noticed that Scully had only taken a few bites
of her sandwich before pushing it away.  He didn't encourage
her to eat but reached over with his napkin to wipe the smear
of mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth.

"Thanks," she mumbled, looking distracted and somewhat
melancholy. Her blue eyes still held a hint of tears and
her lips trembled when she spoke.

Mulder didn't regret the kiss, just the questions which had
prompted it. How could she doubt his feelings for her?  He
knew she was in emotional turmoil, but never expected a dream
to erase their history together.  They were more than just
lovers. They were soul mates.  Nothing, not even a universe
apart, would change the bond between them.

He tried to justify her need to return to an imaginary existence.
Her son was there. But so apparently was he. There was a small
part of him that wondered why the illusionary man was more
appealing than the real one.

"Tell me about him," he said suddenly, his words overlapping
his thoughts. 

Scully sighed, turning her head towards the window. "He was
so... perfect."

"What about his father?" he clarified.  "Was he perfect too?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled what sounded like a scoff.
"You're more curious about your alter ego than your son?"

"I'm sorry, Scully."  Mulder said, punching his thigh under
the table.  His remarks were callous, not out of disregard for
her feelings but in response to his own insecurities. He would
have to profile her less and himself more.  Lowering his voice,
he added, "I know how much you miss him."

"Oh Mulder," she said tiredly. "You have no idea how much I
missed you in that other world. You weren't there during most
of it."

He imagined the worst, where his alter ego obsessed over the
X-files instead of his pregnant partner.  "The Mulder of your
dreams sounds like a jerk," he observed.

"He wasn't a jerk," Scully defended, passing a hand over her
eyes. "I mean you weren't a jerk."
  
He leaned forward as her voice dropped to an agonized whisper,

"Mulder, in my dreams you were the one who was abducted."

For a minute, Mulder said nothing.  He sat back in his chair
and studied her downcast eyes and the shadows beneath them.
He wasn't shocked by the reversal of roles.  It actually made
sense. "Interesting," he murmured.

"Interesting?" Scully looked up and said, "That's not the term
I would use to describe what happened to you.  It was horrible,
Mulder.  A living nightmare."

"A living nightmare," Mulder emphasized. "Maybe that's what
made the dream so real, Scully. You would have questioned a
perfect utopia."

"It was far from that," she admitted. "But it had its moments."

"Can you describe them?" he prompted again. 

Scully shook her head. "Not without wanting to go back."

"Fair enough." Mulder decided to end the subject. He dared not
push her further, not when she was teetering on the end of an
emotional abyss.  "You look tired, Scully.  Why don't you try
to get some sleep?"

She eyed the bed hesitantly. "Because there's still a part of
me that doesn't want to wake up."

Mulder nodded as he took a final sip of coffee.  Admitting her
fear was progress.  It was the first step towards a stronger
foothold on reality.  With time, he hoped that she would be able
to visualize her memories as an observer rather than a participant.
He got up from the chair and held out his hand. "C'mon, I'll lie
down with you."

He guided her to the edge of the bed and crouched down to take
off her boots.  In her urgency to flee the hospital, she had
forgotten to put on socks.  Her small feet felt like ice in 
his hands.  He rubbed them vigorously.  "That tickles," she
complained, curling her toes away from his fingers.

"That's good," he teased gently, relieved that there was no
numbness or frostbite. "Let's get you under these covers and
warm you up."

Scully rolled over on her side and grabbed a pillow. As he
spooned his body around hers, she murmured, "Deja vu all over
again."

"But when you wake in the morning, we go back to D.C.," he
said, draping a protective arm around her waist.

"Don't let go, Mulder," she whispered.

"I won't," he promised.


************


Scully was in a distant place in which there was no sound
other than a rhythmic heartbeat. It was faint, at first. She
drifted towards the noise and saw a figure struggling in a
viscous greenish-yellow fluid.  Her own heartbeat echoed in
response. Finally it split open her chest with a painful truth.
The image wasn't Mulder.  It was her.  She was suffocating,
gasping as an organic cord was being forced down her throat.

It wasn't a dream.  

It was real...

Scully woke, clasping a hand over her mouth to silence her
scream. Mulder was sleeping beside, so exhausted that he had
rolled onto his back. "You promised not to let go," she whispered
accusingly.  

He murmured something in return, unconscious words of comfort
that were lost in her own panic. She wiped the sweat from her
forehead and got out of bed.  The cool, damp air of the motel
room made her shiver.  Grabbing his coat, she used it as a blanket
as she huddled in the chair by the window.
  
It was still snowing, but the flakes were large and fluffy,
signaling the storm was almost over.  She watched the snow
fall for an indeterminable amount of time, hoping that the
gentle, swaying rhythm would slow the beat of her heart. But
inside she shook with fear. Mulder was right.  She had created
false memories to alter the truth. The question was how many?
Did her false memories include William?

No, she decided, gritting her teeth. She wouldn't allow this
to happen.  For the sake of her son, not to mention her sanity,
she would not look any further.  The dream was over.  She would
preserve those few precious glimpses of William and lock the rest
away. She would not open her mind to Mulder or anyone else.

Like Mulder said, they had to consider all possibilities. Maybe
the truth of William's whereabouts were in the X-files. That's
where it all began.  She would go back to D.C. in the morning.
She would work out her body and strengthen her mind. Her recovery
would be swift.  Within a few weeks, she would be ready to start
the investigation of a life time.

"Scully..."

She glanced back at the bed where Mulder tossed in his dreams,
fitful and agitated. Resisting the urge to console him, she said
in a clear, determined voice. "I'm fine, Mulder. Go back to sleep."

************

"Home sweet home," Mulder announced, unlocking the door to her
apartment. "I had better warn you, Scully. I made a couple of
changes."

"Like what?" He opened the door and waited for her to spot his
fish tank in the corner and his computer on her desk. "Like
moving in?" she gasped.

"It made sense at the time," he replied. "To your landlord, who
wanted the rent paid and to my bank account, which was in serious
danger of being overdrawn."

"You didn't have to do that, Mulder," she said.  Her tone was 
reproachful, but the touch on his arm was as soft as a caress.
"It was only an apartment."

"It was more than just letting go of an apartment," Mulder
told her.  

How could he make her understand? There were so many nights
when he couldn't sleep, either on his couch or in his own bed.
Exhausted, he tried to regain his stamina by surrounding himself
with her things.  A pillow case scented with her perfume. A cup
which held the memory of her taste. They were more than just
articles of comfort.  They were tangible proofs that she still
existed.
  
He watched her walk into the living room.  Trying to joke his
way out of an obvious intrusion he said. "Besides, you would
have done the same for me."

Scully froze, her voice sounding like shattered pieces of
glass.  "I should have done more..."

"What do you mean?" he asked, closing the door.

"Nothing..." She leaned over the fish tank. "You're still
missing a molly."

"Yeah. She wasn't as lucky as you," Mulder relayed.

"Oh God," she gasped, covering her face with both of her hands.
"I can't do this..."

"Do what?" he asked.  Alarmed, he dropped her overnight bag and
hurried to her side. "Live together? It's okay, Scully. I'll look
for another apartment tomorrow."

"It's not that," she said, dropping her hands and regaining her
composure. "Right now, I just, uh... I'm having a little trouble...
processing... everything."

He focused on her choice of words. For a minute, he sensed an
opposite meaning, a reversal of thought and expression. It seemed
like her dialogue belonged to him, that he was responding to lines
that were once his own.  Or was he imagining it?  Was it just an
awkward moment between two lovers struggling with the boundaries
of their past?  

Before her abduction, he was an occasional roommate, more out of
fear than practical considerations. What a mistake that had been.
To deprive himself of her, even for one minute, when he came so
close to losing her for good. 

Mulder fought the urge to take her into his arms and hold on for
dear life.  But he kept his voice safely neutral as he addressed
her. "You're right, Scully. It's a lot to process.  Why don't you
call it a night and get some rest?"

Again, she hesitated. "What about you?"

He gestured towards his computer. "I have some work to do first,
some emails to catch up on."

Scully nodded, picking up the overnight bag. "Mulder, I may
be confused about many things, but not this... not our new
living arrangement. It doesn't feel awkward.  It feels right."  

"I hope you feel the same way in the morning."  he joked. 
"Especially when you realize what a slob I am."

"How could I forget that?"  She gave him a tiny smirk before
disappearing into her bedroom.
    
Grinning to himself, Mulder sat down at her desk and turned
on his computer.  He spent the next hour sifting through a
backlog of email, including messages from the agent who had
been managing the X-files during his frequent absences. He
felt a twinge of regret.  His so-called "partner" deserved
more than an occasional reply or cyber pat on the back. He
should at least pick up the phone, or better yet, go into
the Bureau and make sure his nameplate was still on his desk.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. To hell with it, he thought,
turning off the monitor.  He was tired and the only partner
who held his interest was sound asleep in the next room. All
he wanted right now was to join her. The rest of the world
could wait.

In the doorway to her bedroom, Mulder paused and smiled to
himself. Scully was lying safe in her bed with one of his blue
dress shirts nestled beneath her cheek.


************

"Dana, push."

She stared at Billy Miles, the Game Warden and the other
Replicants.

"It's mine," she screamed, her voice defiant. Her cries went
unnoticed. They were waiting for another cry, the one that would
signal the birth of her baby.  She tried to keep her child in
the safety of her womb, away from their probing stares and inhuman
grasps. But the urge to push was too strong.  She couldn't stop
bearing down.  Whimpering, she glanced at the dark eyes in front
of her. "Please don't let them take it."

"Push Dana. Push!"

Scully screamed and pushed, not with her pelvic muscles but with
her hands. They landed on a pair of broad shoulders instead of a
woman's slender frame.
  
"Scully, wake up!"

She opened her eyes to find Mulder hovering over her, dripping
sweat on her face. "Another dream?" he asked, his hazel eyes
sharp and accusing.

Scully was used to the nightmares. She had them every night. But
adjusting to Mulder's penetrating gaze was becoming more difficult.
She avoided his question by posing another. "You went jogging
without me this morning?"

"I have to go into the Bureau today," Mulder said, sitting down on
the edge of her bed. He offered no details, just a stony profile as
he kicked off his running shoes.
  
"Why today?" she asked. "You haven't gone in weeks."

"I've run out of excuses," he responded in a gruff voice. "Not to
mention vacation time."

"And patience," she added, smoothing the covers around her trembling
legs.  She couldn't blame him.  A month had passed since her return.
While she had recovered physically, her emotional state was far from
improved. She was restless and often bad tempered. At first, Mulder
backed off. He didn't press her for details and tried to help her
regain her strength. He cooked for her.  He cleaned for her.  He
even went shopping to stock up on her favorite bath gels. Once she
was capable of exercise, he took her on morning jogs to clear her
head and work off her nervous energy. But when she refused to
discuss her dreams, he became increasingly distant.
  
"I want you to reconsider seeing a psychologist," Mulder said as
he stripped off his shirt.

"No." Her response was too abrupt. She reached out to stroke his
back. "I don't need to see a psychologist, Mulder. I'm living
with one."

She felt his muscles tense beneath her fingertips. "I can't help
you, Scully," he replied. "Not if you won't talk to me."

"If I'm not able to talk to you, then I certainly can't talk
to anyone else," she deflected.  She knew it was a poor excuse.
So did he.  

Getting up from the bed, Mulder walked over to the closet. She
watched him pull a dress shirt from the hanger and wave it in
front of her face.

"This is what I wear to work," he announced. "You may prefer to
spend your nights with your face buried in my laundry, but 
shirts occasionally need to be dry cleaned."

She refused to acknowledge his anger or her own dysfunction.
"I'll take them this morning." she offered.

"You just don't get it." Mulder stormed over to the dresser and
pulled out a pair of clean socks and underwear. "I don't want
you to run my errands.  I want my partner back."

"What about your lover?" she asked in a tentative voice. "You
know, Mulder, the doctor said I'm fine to resume...."

The slam of the drawer cut off the last of her sentence.
  
"You'll open your legs to me, but not your mind." he charged.
"Sorry, but I'm not type to take advantage of one without the 
other."

He left her quivering on the bed, both stunned and humiliated.
Only when she heard the shower being turned on in the bathroom
did she react to his stinging words.  Lifting up her pillow, she
dug out one of his shirts. She resisted the urge to throw it on
the floor. Instead, she pressed it against her face hoping that
the fabric would absorb the heated embarrassment on her cheeks.

Minutes later, he returned to the bedroom wearing a towel around
his waist and trailing water across the floor. "Scully, I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have said that."

The shower had obviously cooled his temper, but not hers.
  
"You want your partner back?"  She threw the shirt at him. "Well,
I want our son back."

"How do you expect me to find him when you refuse to look inside
yourself?"

She eyed his wet hair and lean body, pretending indifference.
In a terse voice, she answered him. "By going back to work, Mulder.
Today, I'm filing my reinstatement papers."


To be continued....


There's a place I like to hide
A doorway that I run through in the night
Relax child, you were there
But only didn't realize it and you were scared
It's a place where you will learn
To face your fears, retrace the years
And ride the whims of your mind
Commanding in another world
Suddenly you hear and see
This magic new dimension



Part 4 of ?



"You want to put me behind a desk?" Scully asked in a tremulous
voice.

Mulder gave Skinner a quick nod, which did not go unnoticed by
the woman seated beside him.  She glanced at him suspiciously
and said, "Was this your idea, Mulder?"

Skinner cleared his throat, signaling Mulder to lean over and
whisper in her ear.  "Consider it the professional opinion as
your live-in psychologist."

"You're punishing me for not doing things your way," she accused
through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying to help you," he insisted.  "We both are."

Scully ignored his remarks, turning her attention to the
Assistant Director. "Sir, this is totally unnecessary.  Agent
Mulder is allowing his personal feelings to influence what
should be an objective opinion."

"Then get me another," Skinner suggested. "Make an appointment
to see the Bureau's psychologist.  Until you do, consider field
work off limits."

"What about the X-files?" she protested.

"Agent Mulder will continue working the X-files with his current
partner," he stated.

"A partner?" Scully rose from her chair. "You had a partner all
these months and didn't tell me?"

Mulder avoided her eyes, not wanting to witness her pain. She
was hurt.  Perhaps rightfully so.  Had it been him, he would
have resented a new partner, especially one of the opposite sex.
Disguising the tension in his voice, he said  "You'll like her,
Scully.  She'll remind you of..."

A knock at the door interrupted him. He turned to find the agent
in the doorway, flashing a white, friendly smile. "Excuse me, sir.
I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself to Agent Scully."

Skinner gestured her inside. "Come in, Agent Reyes.  We were just
discussing you."

"I hope in a positive note," the agent said, crossing the room
to shake Scully's hand.
  
She never got the chance.  

Scully had fainted and was lying on the floor.

"Christ," Mulder swore aloud, falling to his knees beside
her. "What just happened?"

Skinner hurried around from the back of his desk. "I'm not
sure, Mulder.  For a minute, she looked like she had seen a
ghost."

"Should I get some water?"  Reyes offered, backing away.

"Yeah, thanks," Mulder said.  He gathered Scully into his arms
and supported her against his bent leg.  She was groggy, her
voice sluggish and confused.
  
"This can't be happening...," she murmured over and over. "This
can't be happening...."


************


"Are you ready to tell me the truth?" Mulder asked her as she
opened the bathroom vanity.

"I already told you, Mulder," Scully explained, reaching for a
bottle of sedatives.  She could disguise the fear in her voice
but not the tremors of her hand.  The pills spilled from her
fingers and dropped to the floor.  She knelt down to pick them
up, reciting excuses as she counted the capsules.  "Maybe it was
vertigo or an anxiety attack.  It could be as simple as missing
breakfast this morning."

"Maybe it's these...." Mulder crouched down and flicked a pill
with his finger nail.  She watched it roll behind the toilet.
"I thought you weren't taking sedatives anymore."

"I wasn't," she admitted. "But under the circumstances...."

"Better to dream than face reality?" he interrupted.

"And what reality is that, Mulder?" she retorted, standing up.
"That I'm unfit for duty?  That I should sit behind a desk
while you and Agent Smiley search for our son?"

"What is it about Agent Reyes that bothers you so much?"

Scully opened the lid of the toilet and dumped the sedatives
from the palm of her hand.  She would not tell him.  
 
"Then I'm going to have to rely on my own imagination," he
said. "Which, by the way, has you tinted green right now."

"Well, before you color me further, let me remind you
that Agent Doggett prompted the same shade.  But instead
of fainting, you threw him against a wall."

"Who's Agent Doggett?"

Scully felt a stab of panic.  She had lost control and said
too much. "Never mind," she muttered, flushing the toilet.
"Forget I even mentioned it."

"Was he in your dream, Scully?"

"I said forget it," she snapped.  She had to get out of the
bathroom before it was too late.  The walls were closing in...
crushing her... suffocating her.  She tried to push past him,
but like others, he was unmovable, waiting for her cry out.
His hands pinned her shoulders and his dark eyes narrowed in
on her face.  

"You sound angry, but you look scared," he assessed. "What is
it, Scully?  What are you afraid to tell me?"

The pain she suddenly felt was similar to a contraction. Gut
wrenching fear.  She doubled over, grasping his arms
for support.  Her nails dug into his skin.  She couldn't
hold back the truth anymore than she could prevent her child
from being born.  She needed to push it out before it ripped
her apart.  

"She was there!" Her shriek was only a whisper.  She shook so
hard that her teeth chattered. "Agent Reyes was in my dreams,
Mulder. She was there!"

"Okay.. it's okay, Scully." Mulder pulled her against his
chest.  She could hear his heart skip a few beats before
settling back into its regular rhythm. 

"Maybe you met her before and just don't remember it," he
rationalized, leading her out of the bathroom.  He eased her
onto the bed and sat down beside her. "Before Reyes was assigned
to the X-files, she was working out the New Orleans field office."

"Specializing in ritualistic crimes?" Scully sniffed. She was 
crying.  It was another involuntary response which left her
feeling weak and helpless.
  
"That's right," he said, pushing wet strands of hair from her
face.  "See?  You remember details about her, Scully, enough to
suggest that you met her before."

"No," she argued. "Mulder, I have no memory of meeting her
before my abduction."

"So you think," he relayed. "Scully, what can you tell me about
neuroscience and memory function?"

She recited the text version, her voice still shaking. "Um...
a memory is a set of encoded neural connections. Encoding
can take place in several parts of the brain."

"The stronger the connections, the stronger the memory?" he
asked.

Scully nodded. "Recollection of an event can occur by a stimulus
to any of the parts of the brain where a neural connection for
the memory occurs."

"Have you ever heard of a retrieval clue?"

"Are you suggesting that seeing Agent Reyes prompted a 
long-term memory of her?" 

"More like a weakly encoded memory," Mulder relayed. "Lost
memories are the result of the brain's attempt to filter out
unnecessary details.  You may have met her before but didn't
attach any meaning to it."

"Well, I am now."  Scully dried her face with the back of her
hand.  "She may be a weakly encoded memory, but Agent Reyes
is my strongest link to finding William."

"Scully, the strongest link is you," Mulder said, tapping the
side of her head. "The clues are all locked up in here waiting
to be discovered."

"I'm afraid, Mulder," she whispered. "Afraid of what I'll find."

"I think it's more than that, Scully."  Mulder leaned over so
that his forehead touched hers. "I think you're afraid to tell
me what you saw.  My abduction and something else, an event so
traumatic that you can't begin to describe it."

Scully closed her eyes and lowered her face  She couldn't stop
the truth from escaping.  All she could do was muffle it against
the cool skin of his neck. "For months, I was afraid to look for
you, Mulder.  I tried in the beginning, but then I stopped.  I
waited for the clues to find me."

"It's okay, Scully," he said, stroking her hair.

"No it's not," she murmured. "Because when I finally found you,
it was too late.  You were dead."

She felt his Adam's apple bobbing against her cheek. Even though
it was a dream, it was still a hard truth to swallow.  For both
of them. "For months, I thought I'd lost you for good. The only
thing I had to sustain me was our child, Mulder. Then I discovered
you weren't dead, but in an existence that was both alive and
dead."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't," she said. "But that's how I feel. Part of
me is alive and part of me is dead.  Everything around me has
changed and..."

"You don't know where you fit in?"

Scully gasped and lifted her face.  She stared into his eyes,
mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of color and emotion. He understood.
It had to be that simple.  He couldn't possibly remember saying
those exact words or sharing the same experience.  Or could he?

"Let me show you, Scully."

She drew her breath in sudden anticipation.  He was going to kiss
her. Of all the things that should not be happening, was this the
exception?  Was it wrong to surrender to a moment of love when
everything else was falling apart?  She wasn't sure.  But he was...

His mouth was gentle, but insistent, opening her lips to reacquaint
her with his taste and the slow draw of his tongue. She found
herself spiraling downward to where physical need replaced
emotional uncertainty.  After all, desire was ethereal only in
dreams.  This was more like instinct where every fiber of her
being was awakened by his touch.  No thought, only sensation...
his hands caressing her bare shoulders... the rustle of silk falling
from her arms...  the thrill of his mouth on her breast.
    
She would not deny herself this moment, in which the love of
two worlds joined in one reality.  Arching her back, she ran
her fingers through the crisp vitality of his hair.  Ripples of
pleasure cascaded down her spine and pooled between her legs.
For now, nothing else mattered.   Tomorrow she would wake to
another day and the same sorrow.  Tonight was theirs.

Scully closed her eyes as he unhooked the back of her skirt.
She allowed him to slide it down her hips, reveling in the
certainty of his hands.  Stretching out on the bed, she waited
for him to remove her panties.  Mulder was in no rush.  He
traced languid circles across the wet satin, prolonging her
sighs until they stretched out into a moan.
  
Leaning over, Mulder pressed light kisses where his fingers
had been.  Teasing her.  Torturing her.  She lifted her hips,
desperate for him to remove the last barrier between them. When
he didn't, she opened her mouth to protest. But as his tongue
stroked the flimsy material, she ended up panting his name.

"Mulder..."

"How does it feel, Scully," he paused to whisper.

"Good," she choked out. "So good, Mulder... so...."

"Alive?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.  Satisfied, he inched the
panties down her legs.  It took all her willpower not to tug
at the belt to his slacks.  As he undressed, Mulder asked her.
"Do you know what sustained me all these months?"
 
She shook her head, muted by his masculine beauty.   

"The memory of your eyes," he said, kneeling between her legs.
"The way they look right now, so blue...so intense....so
compelling...."

He entered her carefully, punctuating his last words with short,
tentative thrusts.  She drew her knees back, urging him deeper.
She wanted him to fill her.  To complete her.  To take her
through that invisible doorway where only the two of them
existed.
  
Holding his gaze, she gave into the first wave of pleasure. His
eyes dilated in acknowledgment.  Past the black pupils she could
see pin points of light.  Were they stars imagined in a moment
of rapture?  Or was there a third dimension, a place so mystical
that she could only view it from a distance?

Her euphoria peaked with the surge of her orgasm. She felt him
shudder and release his essence inside of her, flooding her
with his warmth and optimism.  With Mulder, all things were possible.
Together they had conceived a child.  Together they would create
a way to find him.


To be continued...


Part 5 of ?


"Can I ask you something, Mulder?"

He glanced down at the woman who was resting in his arms.
She was still awake, which didn't surprise him.  Sex
stimulated her body, but lovemaking invigorated her mind.
He welcomed the distinction and her sudden curiosity. "You
can ask me anything, Scully," he said, stroking her hair.

"How did you find me?"

He answered without pausing, "I found you in my dreams."

"Really?" Scully shifted herself up on one elbow. Tiny
flecks of gold sharpened each blue iris into a penetrating
stare. Mulder blinked, realizing his mistake. By opening
his mind, he had given her a window of opportunity to see
past his skepticism. He pulled back mentally, hoping to dull
the color of his eyes to a protean shade of gray. For her
sake, he needed to remain visually doubtful and offer a
monochromatic truth.

"Do you remember what I said about retrieval clues, Scully?"

Her gaze was motionless and intent on his.

"My dreams were only subconscious attempts to retrieve a
detail which I hadn't previously considered," he explained.

"Which detail?"

"That I would find you in the same location where I lost
you."

He knew that she wasn't buying it by the arch of her eyebrows.
"Mulder, you found me within hours of my return. How do you
explain your perfect sense of timing?" she asked.

He masked his apprehension with a seductive grin. Pulling her
on top of him, he teased, "Would you like another demonstration?"

Scully's hands fell flat on his shoulders. "No. Not when you're
doing the same thing you accused me of."

Mulder dropped the facade and matched her serious expression.
"Which is what?"

"Closing yourself off to me," she said, rolling over onto her
back. "Don't expect me to take advantage of one without the
other."

"God, I hate it when you use my own words against me," he
grumbled.

"Well, I hate it when you tell me to consider all the
possibilities except the most obvious one."

"Which is what?"  he repeated, shifting over to his side
to study her face.

Scully held his gaze without flinching. "There is a connection
between us that transcends time and space," she said.

"That's the obvious explanation?"

"It should be for you," she said coolly . "After all, in this
universe you're supposed to be the the believer, not the
skeptic."

"What exactly am I supposed to believe?" he asked.  "That we
were somehow communicating to each other through our dreams?"

"Why not?" she countered. "Is it any more ludicrous than your
theory about perfect sense of timing?"

"No," he admitted. "But it's hard to appreciate a flight of
fancy that managed to dump me six feet under."

"Forget it, Mulder,"  Scully sighed and closed her eyes.
"I thought you would understand after we..."

"Made love?"

"Never mind," she said quietly, "Let's just get some sleep."

"Scully, look at me," Mulder pleaded. When she refused, he
reached down and stroked her cheek. "I do understand how you
feel, probably more than you realize."

"But you still don't believe, do you?"

Mulder felt a lump in his throat as she whispered words that
could so easily be his. For a minute he considered telling her
the truth.  He believed everything she said about mesmerism,
that there was an inter-dimensional field linking them on all
planes of reality, physical and non-physical. But he couldn't
allow himself to be pulled into this level of consciousness.
Not when there was so much at stake.

Swallowing hard, he said, "I'm sorry, Scully, but right now I
can't afford to believe."

"Why not?"

"Because our son's life may depend on it."

"Mulder...." She gasped his name, reaching up to cup his face
between her hands. "Do you realize what you just said?"

Before he downplay his words she was celebrating them. "You
just acknowledged William as your son," she exclaimed.

He couldn't resist the joy in her eyes or the grateful kisses
she showered across his face and neck. Instinct told him not
to. For her, it was more than an acceptance of paternity. It
was an affirmation of love.

"I should have said it sooner," he admitted, leaning over to
kiss her breasts and the soft, yielding flesh of her belly.
"Considering all the possibilities, there's only one obvious
explanation."

"Which is?" Scully hummed as her fingers danced through
his hair.

"When it came to conceiving William, our timing was perfect."

Just then, his cell phone rang on the nightstand. They both
glanced at it and then each other.

"Talk about timing..." Scully rolled her eyes as he reached
for it.

It was Skinner. The noticeable sadness in the Assistant
Director's voice alerted Mulder to more than just the
inconvenient timing of his call.  He swung his legs
over to the side of the bed and listened closely.  The
news Skinner was conveying was so devastating that Mulder
wasn't able to speak, much less breathe. He clutched his
chest, struggling to form words out of each airless gasp.

"What is it, Mulder?" Scully sat up and placed a hand on his
arm. Her gentle touch reminded him that an even gentler heart
was about to be broken.  Taking a deep breath, he said,
"We'll be on the next flight, sir."

He clicked off the phone and turned to face her.

"Scully, they think they found William," he said, clasping her
by the shoulders. "Earlier today, an infant's body was discovered
in the same location I found you."

"He's dead?" she whispered.

"We need to fly out to Oregon so you can identify the body."

This reality was worse than the most horrifying nightmare. The
pain in her eyes was so excruciating that he couldn't silence
the scream inside of him.

"This can't be happening," his mind shrieked. "This can't be
happening!"



*********


Mulder kept a firm, supportive arm around her waist as they
followed the sheriff's deputy into the woods. Her steps
faltered several times between the snow and the numbness that
deadened her limbs. By the time they reached the yellow tape,
she almost collapsed.

"What is she doing here?" she hissed at Mulder.

"Skinner sent Agent Reyes ahead to secure the location," he
murmured.

Scully stared at the woman who stood out among the group of
male deputies. A feeling of deja vu swept over her. It was as
if she had witnessed this scene before, but not through her
own eyes. It made no sense. It wasn't a dream or a memory, but
a mysterious flashback that somehow didn't belong to her. Like
tunnel vision, the perimeters were blurred and the spotlight was
on Reye's face. Before she could attach any meaning to it, the
image snapped back like an overstretched rubber band, whiplashing
her temples with pain.

"Scully?"

"It's okay," she mumbled, ducking beneath the tape and moving
forward.  "It just proves that not everything is as it appears
to be."

"What do you mean?"

The crowd parted respectfully to give her access to the tiny
infant buried in the snow. She knelt down, removing her gloves
so her fingertips could brush the ice from his face.  So tiny...
so perfect... so cold....

Abruptly, she pulled her hand back.

"It's not him," she announced.

Her voice echoed through the woods and the uncomfortable
silence of those gathered around the oak tree.  Mulder
kneeled beside her, his eyes bloodshot and his expression grim.
"Scully, I know this is hard, but..."

"It's not William."

"By your description, this baby matches the projected age and
the same coloring as William," he posed.

"He may look like our son, Mulder, but it's... not... him!"

"Agent Scully," Reyes placed a hand on her shoulder. "Right
now, I think you need to be honest about what you're seeing
rather than what you're feeling."

Scully rose to her feet and her full height of indignation.
"Agent Reyes, all I'm feeling right now is the unnecessary
intrusion of your presence."

"I'm sorry," the woman apologized. "It's just that I'm very
sensitive to the emotions around me."

"Then sense this," Scully retorted. "Back off."

She glared at the agent until she felt Mulder tug at her
arm. "Let's go, Scully."

As he guided her away from the crowd, she heard a deputy
ask Reyes. "Do you want us to order an autopsy?"

"No," she cried, whirling around. "No autopsy."

Mulder's grip shifted to her waist. "You know they need to
do this."

"No, Mulder," she pleaded desperately. "What if this child
isn't dead?  What if he's infected with a virus that seems
to keep the body just alive enough to take it through a
transformation?"

"What are you talking about?" He stared at her incredulously.

"I need a surgical bay, a team of doctors. I have to keep this
baby stabilized in order to administer anti-virals."

"Scully, he's dead,"  Mulder interrupted her in a harsh,
uncompromising tone. "Our son is dead.  Nothing is going to
change that, especially a cure you only imagined in your
dreams."

Scully clamped her hands over her ears. She had to shut him out.
His voice was competing with her son's heartbeat. She could hear
it. It was reverberating through her entire being, pounding,
throbbing, demanding to be acknowledged.

Suddenly, the contradiction was overwhelming... the sight of
death...the sound of life....  Her mind tried to latch on to
one truth, one reality, but it was too late.  Her two worlds
were colliding, crushing her, plunging her into an abyss of
darkness.

*********

"Here, drink this."

Mulder lifted Scully's head from the pillow and tipped a glass
of water to her lips.  She was drowsy, but alert enough to
swallow.

Her return to consciousness came in degrees. At first, her
lashes fluttered open, offering him a vacant stare. But as he
continued to talk to her, her eyes focused on his face. He was
too upset and distracted to wipe the tears from his cheek. Only
when she reached up to touch them did Mulder realize that he
was still crying.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Our son is not dead, Mulder."

"Christ," he swore under his breath. Setting down the glass,
he buried his face in his hands. It was all his fault. By
forcing her to identify their son, he had pushed her over
the edge. She was exhibiting signs of a nervous breakdown,
withdrawing from reality and thinking in illogical, confused
patterns.

"Where are we, Mulder?" she asked, struggling to sit up on
the bed.

Mulder knew what he had to do. Restraining her with one hand,
he reached for the phone with the other.

"We're back where it all started, Scully. The motel outside
Bellefleur."

"Who are you calling?"

"The airlines," he said. "I'm getting you out of here on the
first available flight."

"No," she protested, weakly tugging at his wrist. "I need to
stay and figure all of this out."

"The hell you do!" Mulder couldn't disguise his anger, although
it was really directed at himself. "You need help, Scully.
And this time, I'm going to make damn sure you get it."

"I have all the help I need," Scully replied. "I have you."

"You need more than profiling or psychoanalysis at this point."

"Fine." Her mood shifted from fretful to belligerent. "But before
you fucking commit me, you should at least hear me out."

Her sudden use of profanity not only caught his attention but
flared his temper.  She wasn't the only one trying to come to
terms with this tragic loss. "Okay, Scully, it's your dime.
Make the most of it."

"I will," she said in a determined voice. "Hand me the phone,
Mulder."

"Why?"

"Because I need to order an autopsy and genetic testing."

"Scully," he sighed. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do," she persisted. "I'm going to prove to you
that the baby we saw is not our son."

"Listen to me," Mulder repeated.  "I said it's not necessary
to make that call."

It only took a second for the truth to register on her face.
"You already ordered the autopsy, didn't you?"

He nodded. "I'm waiting to hear back from Agent Reyes as we
speak."

"Agent Reyes...," she practically spat out the woman's name.
"You put Agent Reyes in charge of this investigation?"

"Unlike you, Scully, I can't be in two places at the same
time."

Mulder instantly regretted his choice of words.  He should
be comforting her, not insulting her.  He opened his mouth
to apologize when his cell phone rang. It was Reyes calling
from the county morgue.

Getting up from the bed, he walked to the window. "What
do you have for me, Agent Reyes?" he said into the
receiver, trying to keep his voice low.

"Bad news, I'm afraid."

Mulder tensed for confirmation of his son's identity.

"The body has mysteriously disappeared," the agent reported.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know how to explain it, Agent Mulder," she said.
"One minute, the body was in the morgue waiting transport
to the autopsy bay.  The next minute, it was gone."

"We'll be right down." He angrily punched off his cell phone
ending the call. "Fuck... how could I be so fucking stupid?"

"What is it Mulder?"

He turned around and faced Scully. "The baby's body is missing."

"Sounds like someone doesn't want us to confirm his identity,"
she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Which leads me to believe that you were right, Scully." Mulder
said approaching the bed. "This baby isn't our son."

Scully pressed her lips tightly together as she reached for her
boots. "Let me help you," he offered, kneeling in front of her.
She nodded, unable to speak. When he looked up, he saw that she
was crying.  His own vision clouded over with tears as she
fumbled her way back into his arms.  She clung to him, sobbing
against his shoulder.

"They hoped we would stop looking for William," she choked out.
"That the illusion would tear us apart."

Mulder hugged her tightly, ashamed, relieved and for the first
time, willing to embrace her beliefs rather than pull away from
them.

"We'll never stop looking," he promised.  "But instead of
doubting the illusion, I think it's time to be skeptical
about reality."



To be continued...


Part 6 of ?


At the county morgue, Scully waited in the hallway while
Mulder questioned the staff. He refused to allow her to be
present during the interrogation process. Although she was
annoyed, she knew he was right. She wasn't capable of
maintaining a professional front given this bizarre turn
of events. The body that was missing was not their son's,
however the lost opportunity of proving that fact infuriated
her. Besides, she didn't need to review the chain of custody
or interview the coroner. She already had her suspect.
 
Monica Reyes.

But she had to be cautious. Her outburst in the forest had
already caused others to doubt her. Even Mulder.  Although
he believed her, she wasn't sure if he trusted her state of
mind. Just because he left her alone to pace the hallway
didn't mean that she wasn't walking a thin line with him.
She knew that she was one step away from a room without a
view. The last thing she needed was to be locked away in a
psychiatric ward and medicated to the point of a dreamless
stupor.  No, it was time to confront her dreams and those
in it.
 
Scully left the building for the parking lot, where she
imagined her suspect would be communing with the cosmos
and chain-smoking.
 
"Bum a smoke from you, Agent Reyes?"

The woman greeted her with a nicotine-free smile.

"What makes you think I smoke?"

"My mistake," she said, shrugging. "Can't seem to find a
Morley when I need one."

"You smoke?" Reyes asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "You
don't strike me as the type."

"I know it's not very FBI of me, but I'm really trying to
quit."
  
The smile died instantly on the agent's lips, causing Scully
to bait her further. "So, Agent Mulder has filled me in this
baby's disappearance.  Interesting."

"Interesting?" Reyes blanched at her choice of words. "That's
not exactly how I would describe the loss of your son's body."
  
"Why not?" Scully leaned a bit closer. "What we think happened
and what actually happened aren't always the same thing, but
then again, it's not always insignificant either."

Reyes took a step back. "Why do I have this strange feeling
that you're using my own words against me?" she asked.

"I don't know," she responded, scratching the side of her head.
"You couldn't possibly have said them before, right?"

"I think we had better just stick to the facts." Reyes advised 
as she reached for the door.

"I'm just trying to keep an open mind," Scully called after her
as the woman walked away. Looking up to the sky, she let out a
small, derisive laugh.  The irony was incredible. The agent's
sudden 'by the book' technique was just as unlikey as John
Doggett showing up wearing a mood ring.  

Scully felt a shiver creep down her spine. It wasn't the chill
of the night air but a cold realization. If Reyes existed in
this universe, so might Doggett. Pulling out her cell phone,
she dialed the FBI headquarters in Washington.
  
Fifteen minutes later, she was in their rental car shivering
and contemplating her dead end. There was no Agent John
Doggett registered with the FBI.  She had requested a more
extended search through the Department of Justice's database
as well as affiliated law enforcement agencies. There had to
be a connection.  This man had to exist... somewhere....

Scully glanced up as Mulder opened the car door.  She
immediately noticed the scowl on his face. "Find anything?"
she asked.

"Yeah." He slammed the door behind him and tossed her a pack
of cigarettes. "There was a vending machine by the Sheriff's
Office.  You should really kick your imaginary habit instead
of kicking around Agent Reyes."

"Poor little black sheep," she murmured scornfully. "More like
a wolf dressed in a lambs clothing, Mulder."

"Well, she's going to blow the house down if you don't ease
up, Scully," he cautioned, turning on the ignition to the
car.

"How?" she asked. "By bleating to Skinner?"

"Remember, you're supposed to be behind a desk, not out in
the field herding sheep," Mulder reminded her. 

"You can change all that, Mulder."  Scully insisted. "One word
from you and I'm back on active duty."

"Consider the word given if you give me one logical reason
why we should suspect Agent Reyes," he countered.

"Because she isn't a retrieval clue," she stated, holding up
the pack of cigarettes. "These are."

"A pack of Morleys?"

"That's right." Scully tossed them up on the dashboard. "But
it has nothing to do with whether or not she smokes, Mulder.
It's word association."

"Smoke and....?" Mulder drew out the question to emphasize his
sarcasm.  

"Smoke and conspiracy," she clarified. "Black sheep and black
lungs."

"You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed. "Cigarette Smoking
Man?"

"Why not?" she asked. "The last time I checked, he had his
tar-stained fingers in your genetic makeup.  Why wouldn't he
be interested in your son's?"

"Because rumor has it that once you check into Hell there's
no checking out," he relayed. "He's dead, Scully."

"Ever see the body, Mulder?"
  
"Nope, but even if I did, you'd probably say that he was
infected with a virus that kept him alive long enough to
take him through a transformation," he said. "Which, by the
way, the question still remains.  Transformation into what?
A female agent who has her front teeth bleached?"

"The transformation was from a human being into a human/alien
replicant," she pursued. "Like Billy Miles."

"Billy Miles?" Mulder's question took on a sharp edge. "The
same Billy Miles who I just spoke to five minutes ago?"

"You saw him?" gasped Scully. "He was returned?"

Mulder turned on the heater of the car to warm her. Only then
did she realize that she was shaking. "Scully, he never left.
Deputy Miles is now Detective Miles and he's going to act as
liaison between the FBI and the Sheriff's Office in this
investigation."

"I can't believe this," she murmured, her eyes dropping to
her lap.
 
"Why not?" he asked. "Because your dreams make Billy Miles
as suspect as Monica Reyes?"

"There has to be a connection," Scully relayed as she rubbed
her temple.

"You're putting your finger right on it, Scully." he said.
"The connections are inside your head. You just need to relax
instead of forcing them to pop like overcharged light bulbs."

"How am I supposed to relax, Mulder?" she demanded. "Our son
is missing, the FBI thinks I'm insane and you're defending a
woman who makes whale calls. Rather than focus on what's going
on inside my head, you should just be grateful that I'm not
slapping you upside yours."
 
For a minute, Mulder didn't respond. In the semi-darkness of
the car, she watched his hands tense on the steering wheel.
As his knuckles turned white, she wondered if he was trying
to restrain his anger or tighten his grip on reality. "I know
where you're going with this, Scully," he said. "But since you
implicate every person you come into contact with, this is
where we part company and you fly back to D.C."

She was tempted to say "enjoy your company", but she didn't.
This was Mulder, not Doggett.  She would not use dialogue 
between she and an imaginary partner to alienate the real
one. Instead, she allowed her silence to speak for her.
  

********

By the time they reached the motel, it was well past midnight.
It was too late to get Scully another room and the first
available flight back to D.C. wasn't until morning. Mulder
eyed the one bed critically before settling for a chair and
a pillow. It wouldn't be the first time he slept sitting up.
During the months of her abduction, he spent so many night
hours in a car that he was accustomed to a semi-vertical
repose.
   
"That can't be very comfortable," Scully assessed as she
crawled into bed. He tried not to notice that she had stripped
off her clothes or that anger had deprived him of the soft
comfort of her body.
  
"It's fine," he grumbled, unbuttoning his shirt. She looked
so small and helpless under the covers, her blue eyes focused
on the not-so-crisp cotton. He felt a twinge of irritation.
"Want it?" he asked, taking off the shirt and holding it out
to her.

"No." Scully met his gaze evenly. "I want you."

He stood there feeling like an ass. She wasn't small and
helpless.  He was.
  
"I want you, too," he finally admitted.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she said, lifting the covers.
 
Within a minute, he was snuggling under flannel sheets with
his fingers coursing through her silky hair. "I'm sorry,"
he apologized. "I don't know why I'm being such a jerk
lately."

"Because I'm the cause to your effect," she murmured against
his chest.  "And you're mine. Trust me, Mulder. In both
universes, we know how to push each other's buttons."

"Right now, I just want to hold you and forget that the other
universe exists," he said.
 
"Then let me show you how," she suggested, pressing feather-like
kisses along his ribcage.
  
Mulder stretched out on his back as she caressed his body with
her lips. Between her fingers and her mouth, she was relieving
one type of tension and building another. He lifted her so that
her legs straddled his hips. As he held her mesmeric gaze, she
guided him inside of her and established the rhythm for them both.

Time lost all meaning. There was only thought and sensation.
While one brought him to a new height of pleasure, the other led
to a profound level of understanding. Through her, all things
were possible. By wanting him, Scully showed him that there were
forces in the universe that defied explanation.  By loving him,
she set his soul free to fly.

Suddenly, he was suffused in an incandescent light. The stars
in her eyes were exploding, sending him into an emotional
vortex. He couldn't stop his words anymore than the shuddering
release of his body. "I love you," he moaned, his head falling
back to the pillow. "God, I love you."

Scully collapsed on top of him. Her sigh of contentment prompted
a moment of awkward silence. He had only said the words once
before and she had doubted the lucidity of his mind.  Now, she
probably thought they were inspired by a sexual epiphany. But
if she doubted him, she didn't show it. Instead, she rested her
head against his shoulder. "I love you, too," she whispered.

After a pause, he said, "I don't want you to leave tomorrow."
  
"I never had any intentions of leaving, Mulder."

"Good," he agreed, ignoring the fact that he had suggested it.
"Because I'm beginning to think that in this universe, you're
the one who's supposed to be guiding me."

Little did he know that Scully would take him literally or
twist his words to prove herself.  By morning, she was gone.
It only took a few phone calls to learn that she was on a flight
headed back east.  It took several more calls to understand
why. In the middle of the night she had received her own phone
call from the FBI. According to the Bureau, Scully had been
searching for her missing connection. Courtesy of their
law enforcement database, she had found it.
  
John Doggett did exist. He wasn't an FBI agent, but a detective
with the NYPD.


**********  
 

Scully arrived at the Detective Bureau in Manhattan at noon
the next day. She paid her taxi fare and turned to take in
the alternate universe of John Doggett. It was not what she
had expected, but everything she should have considered.

New York City.  

Somehow, it all made sense... the congested city streets, the
smell of exhaust mingling with food sold by sidewalk vendors,
the friendly back-slapping of plain clothes cops as they lined
up to buy their lunch.... Only Doggett was the type to bring
order to such chaos. That his career stopped stopped an inch
short of the FBI didn't surprise her.  She suspected that his
different fate was connected with her current reality.  With
his help, she hoped to change both.

Doggett was a detective with the Fugitive Division's Warrant
Section which worked closely with investigators from other
state and federal law enforcement agencies.  She entered the
building with this in mind and her FBI badge open in her hand.
It gained her access to a bullpen not unlike the one in the
Hoover Building.  Except here the shirts and ties were a little
disheveled and the room smelled like corned beef.  

"I'm looking for John Doggett," she announced. All eyes shifted
from brown paper wrappers to the length of her skirt. From the
corner of the room, someone let out of catcall.
  
"Looks like you found him," a voice said behind her. "C'mon
guys, knock it off.  Show the lady some respect."

Scully turned around.  She was face-to-face with John Doggett.
He briefly held her gaze before dropping it to the badge in
her hand. "Or should I say the federal agent?"

"Whichever buys me a minute of your time, Detective," she said.

"The badge buys you a minute," he replied, picking up his
jacket. "But the rudeness of my peers buys you lunch."

She made a mental note not to order a glass of water. "Thanks,"
she said, as they walked to the elevator.  By the time they
boarded it, she remembered to introduce herself. "By the way,
my name is...."

"Dana Scully," he interrupted, pushing the button to the
lobby.  "Agent Reyes told me to expect you."

Scully felt her stomach lurch, not from the downward pull of
the elevator but from another sudden descent into irony.  She
groped the wall for support. "She contacted you?"

"Yeah," Doggett said, taking her arm to steady her. "You okay,
Agent Scully?"

She nodded, clearing the bile from her throat. "What exactly
did she tell you?"

"Not much." He shrugged, releasing her arm as the elevator
doors opened. "Just that you might have some questions about
her background.  I'm just curious why you can't find those
answers within the Bureau."

"Because the Bureau isn't aware that I'm investigating her,"
she replied.

"Well, they are now."  Doggett pointed out the lobby window. 
"Unless I'm mistaken, the men flipping badges at the vendor
outside are looking for more than a free lunch."

Scully grabbed the detective by his sleeve and tugged him back
into the elevator. "Those aren't FBI agents," she said, quickly
closing the doors. "I don't know who are they, but I have a
feeling I know who sent them."

"Who?"

"Agent Reyes." When Doggett shot her an incredulous look, she
held up a placating hand. "Listen, it may sound strange, but
Monica Reyes isn't who you think she is.  Just as I know that
I've never mentioned your name in her presence."

"Maybe her partner did," Doggett reasoned. "She told me that
they were trying to find your son."

Scully skipped over the mention of Mulder because she trusted
him. He would not confide in Reyes. "Like she helped you find
Luke?" she asked.

"You've been checking into my background, too," Doggett said
curtly. "What the hell is this all about, Agent Scully?"

"Agent Reyes led me to a dead child, just like she led you.
Except it wasn't my son. And she knows that."

Doggett gaped at her through the fluorescent light of the
elevator. "Do you know how crazy that sounds?"

"Yes," she conceded. "Which is why I need your help. Without
you, I can't prove it."

"Again, what the hell are you talking about?"

Before she could answer, there was a loud noise outside the
elevator.  Someone was trying to force the doors open. "Detective
Doggett, we might both be in danger. Is there another way out of
this building?"

Doggett punched the button to the basement. "I don't know why
I'm doing this," he mumbled. "I must be as insane as you."


To be continued...

Part 7 of ?




He was strapped in a chair, his body restrained by steel rods
driven through his wrists and ankles.  Oddly, he felt no pain,
only an increasing sense of dread and panic. As a bright light
whirled above him, his fingers clenched tightly together. He
must not scream her name.  If he did, they would hear it. They
would realize their mistake, that they had abducted the wrong
person.
 
Mulder woke in a cold sweat. It took several minutes for him
to adjust to his terror and realize that he was buckled in a
seat of an airplane. Swiping his forehead with the back of
his hand, he glanced out the window.  The plane was on its
final approach to LaGuardia Airport. As one massive wing dipped
towards the earth, his stomach plummeted with it. 

What if his nightmare was more than a dream? What if the dream
was supposed to be his reality?

He had often considered himself a likely target of an alien
abduction. Scully was right. Cigarette Smoking Man wasn't the
only one interested in his genetic make-up. The aliens were
too.  Maybe that's why Scully was taken instead of him. They
knew she was pregnant with his child.  Why abduct the source
when one could steal the result?

A genetic hybrid... a child considered a savior or a threat.
Both human and alien races benefited from hiding the proof
of William's existence. By returning a mirror image of their
son, those responsible for it hoped that the search would end.
When it didn't, the body disappeared and the conspiracy began.

But so did the leads....

As the plane landed and taxied along the runway, Mulder reviewed
the information he had on John Doggett. The connection between
Reyes and Doggett had taken place several years ago.  The
detective's son had been kidnapped by alleged cultists and
Reyes was the agent who assisted in the investigation. Whether
she volunteered or was assigned was still ambiguous. What
couldn't be more clear was the fact that the boy was found dead,
his body beneath an oak tree.
 
The similarities were enough for Mulder to investigate. Intuition
told him that Scully was on to something. Unfortunately, so was
Reyes. Before his plane departed from Oregon, Mulder received a
phone call from Skinner. The whale caller was making waves. He
was cautioned to reel Scully in before her unofficial fishing
trip netted her an official suspension from Kersch.
         
Frustrated, he tried reach Scully by cell phone once he was on
the airport ramp. When she answered, he stopped dead in his
tracks. "You're supposed to guide me, not ditch me" he said
into his phone.
 
"Where are you, Mulder?"

"LaGuardia Airport." He stepped aside to allow people to pass.
"Where are you?"

"I'm in the Detective Bureau's parking garage." There was a 
noticeable pause in her voice.  "Mulder, did you send someone
to follow me?"

"If I had, I'd be picking you up in the airport baggage claim,"
he said. "Why Scully?  Is someone following you?"

"I can't talk right now," she answered, sounding breathless.
She was running.  He could hear commotion in the background as
well as a man's voice urging her on. "I'll call you back."

"Scully!"  Mulder yelled her name into the phone.  When she
didn't respond, he shoved it in his jacket pocket and sped up
the ramp. "Shit."

He navigated the crowded concourse, bypassing the escalator for
the stairs.  At the rental car counter, he pushed past the row
of people in front of it. "I need a car and directions to the
Detective Bureau in Manhattan," he demanded. "Now!"

The attendant squinted at him though his glasses. "What do you
think this is, buddy?  A New York minute?  Get the hell back in
line."

Mulder held up his badge.  

The man handed him a pair of car keys. "Take the Tri-Boro Bridge
to 21st Street."

By the time he drove onto Grand Central Parkway, his cell phone
rang. It was Scully. "Are you okay?" he bellowed over the sound
of traffic.  

"I'm fine." she told him. "Whoever was following me doesn't know
their way around New York."

"Neither do I," Mulder said. "Where are you?"

"Queens Boulevard," she advised "Where are you?"

"I'm not sure," he responded, glancing at the road signs. "But
I have a funny feeling that we're going in opposite directions."

"We generally are," Scully replied. "Listen Mulder, turn back
around. There's a deli near you. Hang on and I'll tell you how
to get there."

Minutes later, he parked his car in front of a seedy looking
deli. Standing out front was Scully, her hair tousled by the
wind and her cheeks tinged with excitement. He wasn't sure if
he should hug her or cuff her. "Scully, you better have something
more to offer me than just pastrami on rye."

"How about a serving of proof?" she countered. "John Doggett.
He's inside ordering us lunch."

"And I'm outside waiting for an apology," he retorted. 
   
"I'm sorry, Mulder," she replied, brushing a strand of hair
from her face.  "But you wouldn't have believed me anyway."

"Since when don't I get the benefit of the doubt?" he asked.

"Since you gave it away to your new partner," she said evenly.
 
"Is that when you decided to find a new one of your own?"

"Mulder...."
  
He followed her gaze to the pavement where his shoes were
scraping the asphalt. "Okay, I admit it." he said. "I feel
like I'm walking a thin line with you lately."

"Take a step closer," she urged. "I'm feeling the same way
too."

Instead of shuffling his feet, Mulder planted them around hers.
He pulled her into his arms to hug her tightly, "I'd cross any
line for you, Scully," he murmured against the crown of her head.
"Real or imagined."
 
"Thank you," she said in a shaky voice. "You don't know how much
I needed to hear that, Mulder."

Mulder lifted her chin and gave her a quick, reassuring kiss. He
then turned her around to face the door. "Lead on, partner. I've
got your back covered."

Inside the deli, Doggett was waiting for them at a table. "So,
this is Agent Mulder," he remarked, standing up to shake his
hand. "You're not what I expected."

Mulder used the gesture to test the man's strength. "I was just
thinking the same thing about you."

"Quite a grip there, Agent," the cop noted. "Let's hope it
includes a grip on reality. We've got us a tense situation
here.  Agent Scully seems to think that the death of my son
is somehow related to alien abduction."

Mulder gave Scully a sidelong glance. "You're starting to
remind me a lot of myself," he quipped before turning back
to Doggett. "Does that answer the question for you, Detective?"

"Don't tell me that you're buying into this crap," the man
remarked.  He glanced sheepishly at Scully before pulling a
chair out for her. "No offense, Agent Scully."

"Actually, I prefer to call it a leap of faith," Mulder said,
sitting down. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
"Ever take one, Detective?"

"Nope." Doggett sat down. Judging by his posture, he was the
type to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground. "Now, maybe
I'm just an old-fashioned cop but I don't take leaps. In my
experience leaps only get people killed."

"Where have I heard that before?" Scully murmured.

"Listen," the detective said, crooking his finger so that the
three of them huddled across the table. "I don't know what's
going on here, but Agent Scully is right about one thing. She's
in danger.  Those men who were following her tried to plow us
down in a parking garage."

"What does that suggest to those cop instincts?" asked Mulder.

"That the world already has enough bad guys without dressing
them up in little green suits," Doggett answered.
  
Mulder nodded affably, but as the detective went to pick up
their lunch order, he whispered to Scully, "This is the guy
took over the X-files in your dreams?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but..."

"After this, I'll believe anything."

"Just give him a chance, Mulder."
  
"Why?"

"Because he's worth it," she relayed, glancing up at Doggett
as he sat down with a tray of sandwiches and fries. "Detective,
was your son's body ever autopsied?"

The man turned a bottle of ketchup upside down and gave it a
hard smack. "My ex-wife wouldn't permit it," he said, using
his nail to flick open the cap. 

"So you never had absolute confirmation it was your son's
body," she noted.

Doggett stared at her in disbelief as ketchup poured onto the
table. "Agent Scully, I saw Luke with my own eyes.  It's a
vision I'll never forget."

"I know," Scully replied as she handed him a napkin. "But what
if the body you saw only resembled your son?"

"Why the hell would someone want to do that?" he scoffed.

"To end your search," she relayed  "To bury the truth along
with the lie."

Doggett shot Mulder an incredulous look. "Are you just gonna
sit there eating French fries or are you gonna say something?"

"Detective, all I can say is this," Mulder intervened. "If it
was my son, I would want to know for sure."

"How does one know for sure?" the man asked, mopping up the
ketchup.
  
"By exhuming the body," said Scully.
  
"Not on your life...." 

"What if Luke's life depends on it?" she pursued. "Your son
could still be alive."

"Based on what?  A crazy notion?"  Doggett threw the napkin
down on the table. "The answer is no, Agent Scully.  Unless
you can offer me more substantial proof, I'm not digging up
my boy."

Scully sighed and pushed her plate away. "You were supposed
to be my proof."

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry about your son and what
you're going through.  But I can't help you.  The best I can
do is buy your...."

The detective never got to finish his sentence.  His voice was
cut off by sudden gunfire which knocked him backwards from his
chair. Mulder grabbed Scully by the arm and yanked her under the
table. "Are you okay?" he yelled over the screams of the panicked
customers.  When she nodded, he asked.  "How about armed?"

"Yeah," Scully panted, reaching underneath her jacket for her
gun. "Where did the shot come from?"

There was shattered glass everywhere. "Judging by the window,
I'd say right across the street," Mulder said, pointing his gun
directly ahead.  "Check him out, Scully."

He glanced back briefly as Scully crawled along the floor to
the detective. "How bad is he?"

"Bad enough to suggest that he was the target," she relayed.  
"The bullet hit him in the right shoulder.  A couple of inches
lower and he would be dead."

Mulder squinted out the window.  Whoever was out there was hidden
behind the glare of the afternoon sun.

"Mulder, I'm applying pressure to stop the bleeding, but I need
to put my gun down to reach for my cell phone and call 911."

"It's okay, Scully," he said. "Judging by the sirens, I think
the call's been made."

He just wondered who made it.


*********


Scully stood beside the detective's hospital bed, maintaining
a silent vigil while he slept.  Now that Doggett was out of
immediate danger, she had time to reflect on how her actions
had put him there.  It was all her fault.  If only she had
relied on practiced logic rather than amateur instincts, this
would have never happened.

Maybe that's where the paradox began. With her. By reversing
her role from skeptic to believer, she had disturbed the balance
of this universe. She had become the cause to the effect of
everyone around her.
  
Scully gazed at Doggett, willing to see a solitary truth instead
of a shared flashback.  She reminded herself that his eyes were
closed for a reason, one that was horribly real and not imagined.
He had been targeted and shot. Others were making the same 
connection that she was, except they were prepared to kill to
stop it. 

It would have been better if she had never dreamed at all.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have never you a part
of this."

"You were so sure before," he mumbled, his eyes opening suddenly.
"What happened to taking a leap?"

Scully stifled her gasp by pressing her fingers against her lips.
He was awake. "Leaps get people killed," she reminded him.

"You're scared," he accused in a gruff voice.

Her hand dropped to the railing of his bed. "Aren't you?"

Doggett nodded. "You know, I needed to believe that I did
everything in my power to save my son," he admitted. "But
right now, I'm just scared that I let him down."

"I'm sure you did everything you could, Detective."

"Did I?"  With great effort, he lifted his forearm so that his
hand covered hers. "Someone was counting on my fear to stop me
from the considering the possibilities.  The bullet was meant
to guarantee it."

"I don't know what to say," she hesitated. "You may just have
been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that," he demanded. "Because
I have a feeling that you've seen more than you're letting on."

"I can't," Scully murmured, dropping her gaze and withdrawing
her hand. "I'm sorry, but I can't be your eyes."

Doggett's arm fell back onto the bed. "Okay, but you can be
my legs. Agent Scully, I'm gonna let you exhume my son's body,
but I want you there every step of the way."

It was more than she could ever hope for, an opportunity to
change fate for the both of them. But as she glanced at
his bandaged shoulder, she imagined the worst. He was desperate.
So was she... Would their mutual anguish lead to more bloodshed?
She fumbled for an excuse. "Detective, I need to be honest with
you.  I'm on shaky ground with the Bureau right now."

"So?"

"I'm going to need a Court Order to do this.  That's going to
take time, and I don't have any to spare."  She paused to draw
in her breath.  "In fact, I have to report back to Washington
tomorrow.  My involvement in today's incident has me in a lot
of trouble."

"This is New York, Agent Scully," he said.  "It's my turf.  I
can have someone out to my son's graveside within an hour."

"What if your ex-wife finds out?"

"The last I heard, she moved south with her pharmaceutical
company," he advised.  "The range of her attention span is
limited to a microscope."

Scully tried one last time. "But an exhumation is bound to
draw someone's attention."

"Not if it's done at night," Doggett insisted.
  
"I'm not winning this argument, am I?"

"I'm counting on you to win me hope, Agent Scully."

**********


By 2:00 a.m., Scully was standing in a Staten Island
autopsy bay with a casket, Mulder and two cops who were
moonlighting as grave diggers. She needed to work fast to
secure DNA samples.  She was up against a time clock.  Not
only did the body have to be re-buried before dawn, but she
and Mulder had an early morning flight scheduled back to D.C.

"I'm ready," she announced from behind her face mask. She was
in full pathologist's gear, prepared to separate her emotions
from the task at hand.  But nothing could prepare her for what
she found once the casket was open.

The body was missing.


To be continued...



If you open your mind to me
You won't rely on open eyes to see
The walls you build within
Come tumbling down
And a new world will begin

Living twice at once you learn 
You're safe from pain in the dream domain
A soul set free to fly...