TWELVE DEGREES OF SEPARATION
No. 8:  April
There Will Always Be a Place
By Paula Graves
GravesPA2@aol.com

       
The third weekend of April was the first really beautiful
weekend of Spring, and Fox Mulder planned to spend it in two
different cemeteries, two different cities.  It was a pact
he and Dana Scully had kept for four years now, spending the
third weekend in April together, remembering the ones they'd
loved and lost to their noble but costly pursuit of the
truth.
       
But this year, Scully wouldn't be joining him in Boston. 
And though he would fly to Washington Saturday evening as
planned, it was only because Margaret Scully had asked him
to come there.
       
Not Dana.
       
Probably not ever again.
       
He spent Saturday morning with Samantha, reading the
newspaper as she worked on her wedding invitation list. 
Since March, he'd spent most of his spare time with his
sister, comforting himself that at least one of his
impossible dreams had come true, even if the other never
would.
       
But he also recognized that Samantha wasn't really the
little sister he'd lost over twenty-five years ago.  All the
in-between time had changed her, not just physically but
emotionally as well.  She was much less contemplative than
his brainy baby sister had been.  Grown-up Samantha was
impulsive, daring--even reckless.  It drove him nuts, but he
had to admit he found her utterly charming.  Whatever her
life away from them may have taken from her, it had also
given her.  She'd been lucky after she was returned--her
foster parents had been good, loving people who'd eventually
decided to adopt her.  They had visited Samantha and his 
mother in January, and Samantha had talked him into coming 
to their mother's home to meet them.  Mulder had liked Ray 
and Linda Chandler.  Even his mother, who'd been reluctant 
to meet them, had been charmed by their openness and 
obvious love for Samantha.
       
Mulder had been more than a little hurt by Samantha's
decision to have her adoptive father give her away at her
wedding.  But he understood.  The Chandlers had been a much
bigger part of her life than he had.  It was right, even if
it was painful.  
       
Although he was no longer certain he would have the
consolation of escorting Scully down the aisle.  Over the
past month, he and Scully hadn't completely lost contact. 
He'd called her to try to apologize, and though she hadn't
hung up in his face, she had asked him to give her some
space, and he was.  But every moment they spent apart seemed
more and more like forever. 
       
"Do you have Walter's address?" Samantha interrupted his
thoughts.
       
He stared at her.  "Walter?"
       
"Walter Skinner."
       
Mulder almost laughed, but his stomach was hurting too much.

"Why?"
       
"Well, I met him at the Scullys' at Christmas, and he seemed
like a very nice man.  And you yourself told me how much
he'd done to help you and Dana these past few years."
       
"Yeah, he's a real pal."  His voice sounded harsh even to
his own ears.
       
Samantha stared at him.  "What does that mean?"
       
He grimaced.  "Remember I told you I ran into Scully with
another man?  How that led to--"  He groaned inwardly,
remembering that humiliating moment in Elaine Henderson's
living room when he'd watched Dana Scully turn and walk out
of his life--probably for good.
       
Samantha's eyes widened.  "You're not saying--?"
       
"It was Skinner."
       
Samantha shook her head.  "Fox!  He's almost old enough to
be her father.  How could you have ever thought--"
       
"He's not that much older, and, well, Scully's always liked
older men."  Jack Willis had been a good ten years older
than Scully, he remembered.
       
"Honestly, Fox, you men can be so incredibly stupid
sometimes."
       
He couldn't argue with that.
       
"How could you jump to such a ridiculous conclusion?  And
worse, how could you have tried to pick up another woman
right there in front of her?"
       
Because I'm a complete, total, A-1 loser.  "How much longer
are you going to beat me up about this, Samantha?  Because
you're not telling me anything I don't know.  And you're not
making things any better."
       
She frowned at him.  "Dana always said you had a self-
destructive streak.  I was hoping you'd changed."
       
He glared at her.  "Sorry I've disappointed you and the rest
of the world. Again."  He headed for the door, grabbing his
jacket.
       
"Fine, go!"  Samantha followed him to the door.  "And
remember this, Fox Mulder.  You're not the only one this is
affecting, you know!  I haven't talked to Dana in almost
three weeks.  It's too uncomfortable now.  I might be losing
one of my best friends because you're too damned insecure to
hold onto the best thing that ever happened to you!"
       
Mulder slammed the door shut behind him.  Did Samantha think
he didn't know what a mess his life was?  Did she think he'd
screwed things up on purpose?
       
He stopped in the middle of the stairs.
       
My God, he thought.  Did I do it on purpose?
       
Am I that afraid of loving Dana Scully?

*  *  *  *  *                                                
   
      
Scully spent Saturday morning cleaning her apartment from
top to bottom, using the physical labor to numb a part of
herself that had been aching like a sore thumb ever since
that morning in March when she'd seen Fox Mulder emerge from
Elaine Henderson's bedroom wearing nothing but his black
silk boxers and a guilty look.  Nothing--not the icy facade
she'd cultivated as a woman trying to hold her own in a
man's world, not the toughened hide that came with the
territory of six years as Mrs. Spooky--nothing had been able
to protect her from the white hot agony that bolted through
her at that moment.
       
Damn him.  Damn his stubborn pride and his reckless
impulses.  Damn his lean good looks and sexy smile that
could get him into any bed he wanted.  And damn him most of
all for trying to get into Henderson's bed instead of hers.
       
She was pretty sure she knew what had happened to make
things go so terribly wrong.  She hadn't told him she was
going to the party because Skinner hadn't asked her to
accompany him until that very afternoon.  She'd barely had
time to run home, shower, and find a suitable dress.  And,
no doubt, Mulder had seen her with Skinner and jumped to
every stupid, implausible conclusion in the book.  It was
one of his greatest--and most frustrating--talents.
       
From there, however, she stopped understanding and started
hurting.  For instead of trusting her and waiting for her
perfectly rational explanation of the circumstances, he'd
gone into his usual reckless mode, looking for the first
willing woman to take to bed.  Of course, he hadn't gone
through with it.  A day or so after the party, Henderson had
searched her out to tell her that Mulder hadn't even really
tried, but Scully had already figured that out.  Mulder
loved her, even if he'd never said the words.  
       
But the fact that he hadn't been able to go through with it
didn't help matters that much.
       
After all, infidelity wasn't Mulder's problem.
       
His problem was that while he trusted Scully with his life,
he still didn't trust her with his heart.  And that was what
hurt most of all.
       
       
*  *  *  *  *

Mulder drove in silence to the cemetery.  An open bag of
sunflower seeds sat beside him; he took one and shelled it
with his teeth and tongue, spitting the shell out the open
car window and eating the seed.  By the time the X-Files
division had been shut down this last time, he'd gotten
Scully halfway addicted to the things herself.  One more way
he'd corrupted her.
       
One more way she'd burrowed into his soul.
       
In the quiet car, he could almost hear Scully's voice, a
memory from last year's trip to his father's grave.  "Your
mom doesn't understand why you still feel the need to visit
your dad's grave, does she?"  
       
Trust Scully to cut right to the heart of the matter. "He
hurt her badly."
       
"He hurt you, too."
       
Mulder realized he was staring at the empty seat next to
him, as if he could will her to materialize beside him.  He
looked back at the road, chewing his lower lip as he tried
not to think of all the years of anguish his father had
caused him, directly and indirectly.  He thought, instead,
of the little things.  Building a model airplane together. 
Watching the New York Knicks  on TV.  Pitching a baseball
with his dad one bright summer morning when Bill Mulder
should've been at work and hearing him say, "On a day like
today, Fox, nothing's more important than playing baseball
with you."
       
Few and far between, those days.   But that just made the
memories more distinct and precious.  In the end, his dad
was sorry.  He wanted so badly to turn back the clock, to
make things right.  Mulder's mother wasn't there to see his
father the night he died, but Mulder was.  He knew his
father was truly sorry, and he wouldn't deny Bill Mulder his
moment of grace.
       
His memories of the night his father died were jumbled, some
clear, some murky.  But one memory above all others stood
stark and dominant in his mind:  Scully's arms catching him
as he fell through the door of her apartment, when he was so
sick with fever and grief that he could barely move.  Scully
had always caught him, kept him moving, kept him thinking
and feeling.  The day she'd walked into his office that very
first time, he'd thought of her as a millstone, holding him
back.  But in truth, she had been his cornerstone, holding
him upright and strong.
       
And as he parked his car near his father's gravesite, the
full force of what he'd lost hit him like a tidal wave.  He
lowered his head to the steering wheel and cried. 
    
He didn't know how much time passed before he heard a soft
rapping noise on the window of his car.  His heart rate
tripled, adrenaline shooting through him.  His hand went
automatically to the gun he always wore in a holster at his
waist.  Then he realized he was looking into the soft, sad
eyes of his sister, and he relaxed.
       
He opened the door and stepped out of the car.  The bright
early afternoon sunlight seared his burning eyes.
       
"I'm sorry, Fox.  I shouldn't have said those things to
you."
       
He stared at her for a moment, surprised that she'd bothered
to apologize for what had been, after all, nothing but the
truth.  "It's okay.  You didn't say anything I didn't
deserve."
       
"You didn't need the truth, Fox.  You needed my comfort, and
I blew it. I'm sorry."  She opened her arms.
       
He walked into her strong embrace, pressing his hot face
against her neck.  She held him tightly, stroking his hair
with sisterly tenderness.  "Oh, Fox, what am I going to do
with you?  You feel too much. You always did."  
       
He wrapped his arms around her waist.  For a second, he
imagined he could smell the soft, warm, little girl smell of
his kid sister.  But she wasn't a little girl anymore.  He
took a deep breath and released her.
       
She looked at him, squinting against the sunlight.  "Talk to
Dana when you get to Washington.  Maybe it's not too late."
       
He nodded, even though he feared he knew the truth.
       
It was too late. A lifetime too late.

*  *  *  *  *

       
Margaret Scully opened her door to Fox Mulder Saturday
evening, not sure what to expect or what to say.  Dana had
yet to tell her anything about what happened between them,
but Fox had confessed everything on the phone a week after
the party.  He'd sounded like a scared, guilty little boy
admitting his crimes, waiting for her to scream and yell and
tell him to never call her again.  And while certainly she'd
been disappointed in him for hurting her daughter and
frustrated with his endless capacity for self-destructive
behavior, she could no more turn her back on him than she
could turn away one of her own children.
       
But she hadn't seen him face to face since then.  Not until
now.
       
He stood in the doorway, staring down at her, his eyes wary.
Untrusting. He made Margaret think of a pet she'd had once,
a beautiful, intelligent spaniel mix that had been abused as
a puppy.  No matter how she'd tried to make the dog see that
she'd never hurt him, he'd always flinched when she first
put out her hand.  Eventually, he would relax and enjoy her
petting, but never once, 'til the day he finally died of old
age, did the dog manage not to flinch that first time she
reached out to him.
       
Fox Mulder always flinched.  It was a knee-jerk reaction
that had saved his life more than once.  But it had cost him
much, as well.
       
Margaret was afraid that it had cost him her daughter's love
and trust.
       
"I should've gotten a hotel room," Fox said.
       
She shook her head.  "Come in, Fox."
       
He walked through the door, his knuckles white where they
gripped the handle of his overnight case.  He crossed to the
sofa and just stood there, looking at the mantle.  At the
framed photo Dana had given Margaret for Christmas.  
       
The picture of him and Dana.
       
He dropped his suitcase and crossed to the mantle.  His hand
lifted slowly, traced the edges of the frame.  "I messed up,
Mrs. Scully."
       
"You have to find a way to stop sabotaging yourself, Fox."
       
"I know."
       
"You need to talk to Dana."
       
"I don't think she's going to forgive me."
       
Margaret felt an overwhelming urge to put her arms around
him and hold him tight, rocking him as she'd always rocked
her children when they were hurt or afraid.  But Fox
wouldn't let her.  She knew that.  So she rocked him in her
heart and hoped he could feel how much she loved him.

*  *  *  *  *

Dana Scully sat in her immaculately clean apartment and
stared at the spotless walls, wishing she had the guts to
call her mother and make sure Mulder had gotten there
safely.  Not that she was ready to tell him all was
forgiven.  She had yet to decide what she was going to do.
       
But she wanted to know he was okay.
       
After the silence started to get to her, she flipped through
her assortment of CD's, looking for something that had
belonged to Melissa, as if the music could make her feel her
sister's presence.  Odd, she thought, that her New Age
sister would be a country music fan.  But Scully had found
that she rather liked her sister's brand of music.  A
Martina McBride album caught her eye and she put the CD into
the player.
       
The songs made her think of Missy, and she crossed to the
bookshelf and pulled out her sister's journal.  She curled
up on the sofa and read her sisters thoughts and emotions,
calling Missy to mind.  What would she say about what was
happening now?  What would she tell her to do about Mulder?
       
(He's only human, Dana.  He's a man and he made a mistake).
       
She shook her head.  It wasn't just a mistake.  It was a
betrayal.  He'd betrayed her trust.  He's betrayed the trust
she'd believed he had in her.
       
But it was all part of what he was.  She'd always known that
about him.  He'd been fighting demons for as long as she'd
known him.  She knew that when she let herself fall in love
with him.
       
(You love him, Dana. Demons and all).
       
But she couldn't overlook the fact that he'd headed straight
for another woman at the first sign of trouble, even if
nothing had come of it.  He'd jumped to another wild
conclusion, then jumped straight into the fire.  It was the
tried and true Mulder M.O.  Scully had been pulling him out
of those fires for over six years.  But this time, she
didn't know if she still had the strength to do it.
       
(Life's short, Dana.  Maybe he won't make that mistake
again).
       
But she was pretty sure he would.  At the next sign of
trouble, he'd be off and running again.  He'd do something
crazy and dangerous.  Get hurt or killed.  Get her hurt or
killed trying to bail him out. 
       
Could she live like that anymore?  
       
A snippet of the song playing on the CD caught her ear --
maybe because it so perfectly spoke what she was feeling.

 
     "Gone without a trace,
     You left a hollow place,
     Now there's not a stone to mark,
     Where I used to have a heart."
                                  
     
Scully closed Melissa's journal and pressed the small book
against her heart.  I miss him, Melissa.  I miss him so
much.  
       
Can I really bear life without him?
       
When the answer finally came, she grabbed her coat and left
her apartment.

*  *  *  *  *

       
Mulder tightened his jacket around him, realizing with a
start that his aimless wanderings had led him all the way
from Margaret Scully's house to the Potomac.  Their place,
his and Scully's.
       
He didn't know how long he'd been walking.  An hour at
least.  Probably closer to two.  And while he didn't think
he'd planned to end up here, he knew that it was not an
accident. 
       
For he saw a familiar form sitting on the bench near the
Reflecting Pool across the mall from the Washington
Monument.  Red hair washed cherry dark by the lamplights,
lifted and caressed by the cool night breeze.  Small
porcelain doll face in profile, staring out across the ebony
ribbon of the Potomac.
       
She looked up quickly when she heard his footsteps.  Her
expression went from wariness to an almost masklike
serenity.
       
"Is this seat taken?" he asked.
       
He saw a glimmer of remembrance in her eyes.  A tiny smile
flirted with her lips, then retreated.  "No, but I should
warn you.  I'm experiencing intense feelings of guilt."
       
He cocked one eyebrow.  "No problem.  Guilt and I go way
back."  He sat next to her, tucking his hands in the pockets
of his coat.
       
"How was your flight?" she asked.
       
"Uneventful."
       
"You settled in at Mom's?"
       
"Yeah."
       
"Did you borrow her car or rent one?"

"Actually, I walked."
       
"All the way from Mom's at this time of night?  You like to
live dangerously."   
       
"Yeah.  I decided to stop and talk to you, after all."
       
He felt a glimmer of hope when her lips curved slightly. 
She turned to look at him.  "I'm no danger to you, Mulder."
       
Yes, you are, he thought.  The most dangerous person in the
world.  "So what kind of intense guilt feelings are you
harboring tonight, Agent Scully?"
       
"I'm sorry I didn't come to Boston.  We made a pact."
       
He looked down at his hands, touched that after the way he'd
hurt her, she still cared about keeping her word to him.  "I
understood, Scully."
       
"I should have been there for you."
       
"You were."
       
She glanced at him.
       
"I kept hearing your voice in my head.  Old conversations
we've had about my father," he explained.  "I knew why you
couldn't come."
       
"I've been thinking a lot about that, too, Mulder."  
       
His stomach clenched into a knot.  "About you and me?"
       
She nodded.
       
"Have you decided anything?"
       
She nodded again.
       
They remained silent for a long, tense moment.  Then Mulder
found the courage to ask.  "What did you decide?"
       
She turned to look at him, her gaze intense.  "I wanted to
see if I could give you up completely.  But I can't."
       
Relief shot through him.  "Scully--"
       
She held up her hand, silencing him.  "I'm not through."
       
Apprehension returned, and he swallowed with difficulty.
       
"Your friendship has been the most significant relationship
I've ever had, Mulder.  It's shaped my life, defined me in
ways I can't even comprehend, much less express.  And I
can't give that up."
       
He thought he was beginning to understand, and the knowledge
was bittersweet.  "This is the old 'let's just be friends'
speech, isn't it?"
       
She shook her head.   "No.  I'm just telling you that if
friendship is all you can give me, that's enough for me."
       
"But you want more?"
       
She nodded.  "I want everything with you, Mulder.  I want to
be your lover, your confidante, your guardian angel.  But I
can be happy just being your friend."
       
"So you're telling me it's up to me.  What I want."
       
"Yes.  You have to decide what you want from me.  You have
to commit yourself to it, because I can't go on wondering
when you're going to go off the deep end again.  I need some
assurance that I'm not going to wake up and find you gone in
the morning because you can't handle the intimacy."
       
It was a fair call, he thought.  God knew he'd given her
more than enough reasons to doubt him.  "I'm always going to
have insecurities, Scully.  I can't help them.  They're too
much part of me now."
       
"I know.  I know you're going to get scared and get crazy
sometimes.  I've been through six and half years of that,
Mulder.  And I still want to be with you.  But I need you to
trust me enough to come to me with your fears, not go
running off to somebody else.  When you feel the need to
run, I want you to run to me.  Because there's nobody in the
world who'll take care of you like I do, Mulder.  Nobody."
       
He felt a soft, hot ache fill his chest, spreading to his
throat, filling his eyes.  He didn't deserve her, and she
might still end up regretting her decision, but he couldn't
let her go again.  "I know that, Scully.  I always figure it
out--maybe a little late sometimes, but I always do."
       
She reached over and took his hand.  "Look, things may be
changing for us soon.  Professionally, I mean.  So why don't
we go slow and get comfortable with each other again this
weekend?  Nice and easy.  It'll give you room to process
everything, decide what it is you want.  You can tell me
your decision when we take our moms down to Keystone Beach
for Mother's Day, okay?"
       
He knew what he wanted.  He wanted to spend the rest of his
life with Dana Katherine Scully.  But he also knew she
needed for him to take time to think it out.  She needed to 
know that his decision was carefully made.  So he merely 
nodded.  "Okay."
       
"I'll drive you back to Mom's."
       
"Why don't you come there and stay tonight?  We could pick
up a change of clothes at your place."  He didn't want to
let her go yet.  "Your mom would be there, so we couldn't
get into trouble."
       
She chuckled.  "Wanna bet?  But I'd love to come stay."
       
He squeezed her hand.  "You're not going to regret giving me
another chance, Scully."
       
She pulled him to his feet.  "Yes, I probably will.  At
least an hour out of every day.  But that's okay.  The other
23 hours will make it worthwhile."
       
He turned to her, tempted to kiss her.  He wanted to--badly. 
But something inside told him to wait.  There would be
another time. The right time.
       
Now that he finally had time back.
       

*  *  *  *  *

       
Scully and Mulder got back to her mother's house around ten. 
Mulder took her overnight case out of the back seat and
carried it up the walk for her.  Scully didn't protest his
gentlemanly behavior as she might have before.  She knew he
needed to do something for her--some sort of penance for
hurting her, she supposed.  So she let him.
       
He used the key her mother had given him to open the door. 
He followed Scully inside and locked the door behind him. 
"Hi, Mom, I'm home," he called.
       
Margaret emerged from the back of the house, dressed in her
favorite green flannel robe and a pair of fuzzy slippers
Scully had bought her for Christmas a couple of years ago. 
Her face, automatically set with a smile for Mulder,
registered delighted surprise to see her daughter as well.
       
"Look what followed me home."   Mulder motioned his head
toward Scully.
       
"Hi, sweetheart!"  Her mother hugged her.
       
"Got room for another houseguest?"
       
"Always."  Margaret hooked her arm through Scully's.   "So,
I guess the two of you are speaking again."

Scully smiled.  Her mother wasn't one to beat around the
bush.  "Yeah."
       
"Scully, you want your same old room?"  Mulder asked.
       
Scully nodded.  Mulder took her overnight case down the
hall, and she followed him with her gaze.
       
"Is it really okay?" Margaret asked softly.
       
"I think it will be."  Scully gave her mother a reassuring
smile as she pulled off her jacket and hung it on the coat
tree by the door.  "We're friends again.  And if Mulder
thinks he can handle it, maybe we'll be something more."
       
"He does love you, Dana."
       
"I know."
       
"I'd tell you to be patient with him, but I guess after six
years together, patience is already one of your strong
suits."
       
Mulder came back in the room.  "I left the case on your bed. 
So, girls, the night's still young.  Anybody up for Monster-
Vision on Channel 8?  It's a double header--THE FLY and
NIGHT OF THE LEPUS."
       
Mrs. Scully chuckled and murmured in Scully's ear, too low
for Mulder to hear.  "See--he IS the man for you, honey."  
She squeezed Scully's arm and smiled at Mulder.  "I'll pass,
Fox.  But Dana loves scary movies.  Whenever her dad was
home from sea, he and Dana lived for Fright Night Theater. 
They'd turn off the lights and scare each other silly."
       
Mulder arched his eyebrows at Scully as her mother retreated
down the hall.  "I thought you said monster movies were mind
candy for the emotionally immature."
       
Thanks a lot, Mom, she thought.  Oh, well, gotta come clean
sometime.  She kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch,
reaching for the remote on the coffee table.  "I've already
seen THE FLY and NIGHT OF THE LEPUS.  How do you feel about
Hitchcock?"
       
He kicked off his shoes and sat by her.  "I live for
Hitchcock."
       
"SHADOW OF A DOUBT comes on at 10:30."
       
"Ooh, that's a creepy one."
       
"Want me to pop some popcorn?"
       
"I'll do it."  He got up. 
       
More penance, she supposed.  She watched him disappear into
her mother's kitchen.  She heard him open one cabinet, heard
the sound of rustling cellophane and the click of the
microwave oven door opening. 
       
He knows my mother's kitchen almost better than I do, she
thought.
       
He returned to the living room and sat next to her.  She had
muted the television, waiting for movie to come on.  For a
second, silence lingered between them, not quite
comfortable.  Then he nudged her with his shoulder.  "I
brought you something. It'll tide you over until the
popcorn's ready."  He reached into his pocket.  She heard
the sound of plastic crackling, then he pulled out a bag of
sunflower seeds.  "Try not to spit the hulls on your mom's
carpet.  She gets real pissed off about that."
       
She took a handful of seeds from him, leaning her shoulder
against his.  They sank a little lower into the sofa
cushions, propping their sock-clad feet on the coffee table
in smooth unison. The silence was no longer uncomfortable,
filled by the soft cracking noises of splitting sunflower
seed shells and the muted "pop, pop" sounds coming from the
kitchen.  A couple of minutes later, a shrill "ding"
announced that the popcorn was ready.
       
"I'll get it," Mulder insisted when Scully started to move.
       
She watched him unfold his lanky body and head for the
kitchen.  A bemused smile curled her lips.  
       
This penance thing--if I'm smart, she thought, I'll milk it
for all it's worth.
       
 
*  *  *  *  *

       
The Memory Party had been Dana's idea.  Knowing Melissa
would've hated people in black hovering around her
tombstone, Dana had decided that before all of Melissa's
family and friends went to the cemetery to put flowers on
her grave, they should have the biggest, loudest party known
to man. Everyone brought a favorite party food and a
favorite memory of Melissa.  They ate, drank, laughed and
remembered.  And somehow, remembering Missy's joyful life
made the trip to the cemetery seem less painful.
       
Margaret Scully would forever be grateful to her younger
daughter for coming up with such a wonderful way to keep
Melissa alive.  As the anniversary of her older daughter's
death approached, Margaret found she could temper her
sadness with a sense of delighted anticipation, looking
forward to the annual gathering of people who loved Melissa
and kept her alive in their hearts and minds. 
       
She took a moment to prepare herself in the kitchen as Fox
and Dana greeted the guests at the front door.  Already she
could hear the chatter of voices and the sound of music, a
bittersweet reminder of love and loss.
       
"Are you about ready, Mrs. Scully?"  Fox popped his head 
into the kitchen.  
       
He looks like a new man, she thought with a secret smile. 
Amazing what a little forgiveness can do.  She held out her
hand to him, and he took it in his, leading her out into the
living room. She looked out into the faces of those
gathered, recognizing the warmth and love.  Oh, Missy, she
thought, you'll never really be gone, will you?  
       
Not as long as we remember.

"I didn't know Skinner was going to be here,"  Mulder
murmured to Scully as he carried an empty pitcher of tea
into the kitchen.
       
She looked up at him, her eyes a little wary, and he felt a
sharp pang of guilt.  "I didn't know he was coming, either." 
She hacked open a lemon, spraying juice across the kitchen
counter.
       
He put his hand over hers, stilling her almost violent
movements.  "I didn't mean it to be an accusation."
       
She sighed and put down the knife.  "I'm sorry."
       
He caught her other hand and pulled her around to face him. 
"I know you said I should wait until next month to give you
my decision, Scully, but I know what I want.  I want you."
       
She leaned her forehead against his collarbone.  "I know.  I
just want to take it slow.  We have a lot of options to
consider.  Besides, we're still not really comfortable with
each other.  Not yet.  We have to get back to where we were
before we can go forward." 
       
He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.  The sheer
passion flowing from her vibrant blue eyes washed over him. 
He had trouble catching a breath. "If you keep looking at me
like that, Scully, I'll be tempted to skip right past where
we were before and go right to where no man has ever gone
before."
       
"What makes you think no man has ever gone 'there' before?" 
She pulled her hands out of his, arching her eyebrows at
him.  Her enigmatic little smile haunted him long after she
rubbed past him and went back to the living room.  He gulped
down a full glass of iced tea before he trusted himself to
return to the party.
       
Despite Mulder's attempts to avoid the A.D., Skinner caught
up with him a few minutes later.  "Mind if I have a word
with you, Agent Mulder?"  He nodded toward the hallway.
       
Mulder sighed and followed the older man.  He leaned back
against the wall and narrowed his eyes.  "Yes, sir?"
       
"I wanted to let you know that your application for transfer
back to Washington has made it past the internal review. 
It'll still have to get the green light from the Director's
office and the Executive Branch, but I'll do what I can to
push it through."
       
Mulder tried not to show his surprise.  "Thank you, sir.  I
appreciate it."
       
"Well, I was never pleased with your transfer out of the X-
Files in the first place.  I hope you and Agent Scully both
know that."
       
"Yes, sir."
       
Skinner bent his head forward, lowering his voice a bit.  "I
realize I'm about to tread into something that's really none
of my business, but I hope that I'm right in assuming that
you and Agent Scully have resolved any difficulties that may
have arisen between you as a result of our last encounter."
       
Mulder felt a mixture of irritation and embarrassment.  He
knew that Scully had no romantic feelings for Skinner, but
he couldn't forget the almost proprietorial air of Skinner
at the president's anniversary party.  "Everything's fine,
sir."
       
"I hope so.  I didn't enjoy watching Dana suffer."
       
Okay, Mulder thought, that was definitely a threat.  And he
called her Dana again, just like at Christmas.  "I didn't
know that you were so concerned with Dana's personal life."
       
Skinner's tight little smile just made Mulder want to sock
him.  "Let's just say that Dana's happiness is important to
me."
       
"What are you trying to tell me, sir?"  Mulder could almost
see the cloud of testosterone billowing up between them. 
Alpha males, he thought, staking claim to Dana Scully.
       
But Skinner's next words threw him for a loop.  "I'm trying
to tell you that if you hurt Maggie's daughter again, I'll
make you very sorry."
       
"Maggie's daughter..."
       
Skinner took a step back.  "Yeah."  He frowned, as if he'd
let something slip that he hadn't intended.
       
"Oh, my God."  Mulder stared.  "You and Mrs. Scully?"
       
Now the A.D. looked downright uncomfortable.  "We're just
friends."
       
Mulder released a soft bark of laughter.  "Where have I
heard that before?"
       
Skinner's lips twitched slightly.  "Look, Dana doesn't know
I'm seeing her mother, okay?  Maggie wants to wait and see
if things develop before she says anything."
       
"And are things?  Developing, I mean."
       
Skinner leaned against the opposite wall.  "You know,
Mulder, I'm not exactly comfortable talking to you about
this."
       
"Just think of me as Mrs. Scully's son."  Mulder folded his
arms across his chest.  "The one who actually shows up for
family gatherings,"  he added with a wry smile.
       
Skinner actually chuckled.  The sound was so surprising, it
was all Mulder could do to keep from gaping.
       
"Do the Scully sons actually exist?" Skinner asked in a
conspiratorial whisper.
       
"Not that I can tell," Mulder answered, his voice equally
low.  "I've seen pictures, but..."
       
"What are you two doing, plotting the overthrow of the FBI?" 
Scully stood in the hallway, hands on her hips.  "We're
getting ready to clean up and head for the cemetery."
       
Skinner darted a warning look at Mulder as he pushed away
from the wall.  "Speaking of overthrowing the FBI, Dana, I
take it you haven't told Mulder about what's happening."
       
Mulder quirked his eyebrows at Scully, surprised to see her
face redden slightly.  "Not yet.  I was waiting until you
got confirmation," she said.
       
"I got it today."
       
"What's going on?"  Mulder looked from Scully to Skinner,
his stomach tightening.
       
"Next week, Thomas Shea will be turning in his resignation
as Director of the FBI.  We've been expecting it for over a
month, ever since his wife Jeanette was diagnosed with
leukemia,"  Skinner said.
       
"President Matheson wants Skinner to replace Shea as
Director," Scully added.  "And he's told Skinner that he
wants a feasability study on reopening the X-Files
division."
       
Mulder leaned against the wall, his legs momentarily too
wobbly to take his weight. 
       
Reopen the X-Files?
       
"It'll have to go through channels," Skinner warned.  "You
know as well as I do that even as Director, I'll have people
to answer to.  People who aren't going to be as open to the
idea as I am.  But I'll do what I can--assuming I'm actually
nominated and my nomination makes it past the Senate
hearings."  He nodded slightly, then went back into the
living room.
       
"Scully, just think--"
       
She moved a little closer to him, her eyes slightly
narrowed.  "Believe me, it's all I've done since Skinner
told me about it the night of the Matheson's anniversary
party."
       
So that's why she was there with Skinner, Mulder thought. 
He kicked himself mentally a few times just in case he
hadn't already beaten himself up enough.  "I can't believe
you haven't told me this before."
       
"I should have," she admitted.  "I guess I was just avoiding
it."
       
"Why?"
       
She backed away, pressing her spine flat against the wall
opposite him.  "Because I'm not sure I want to go back to
the way things were before you left for Boston."
       
He slumped against the wall as her words got through to him. 
"Oh, Scully.  That's what they'd expect, isn't it?"
       
She nodded.  "It's not a written rule, Mulder, but we all
know how the Bureau looks on partners getting involved."
       
He shook his head.  "The Bureau's already screwed the hell
out of my professional life.  I'm not going to let it
dictate my personal life."
       
"Even if it means turning our back on the X-Files?"
       
He sighed with frustration.  "Why can't we have both?"
       
"Maybe we can."  She brushed her copper hair away from her
face, her expression a mirror of his own torn feelings. 
"But maybe we can't, either.  And we need to do some long,
hard thinking about that.  Because it may well come down to
a choice.  The X-Files or being together."
       
He shook his head, helpless to find words to express his
turmoil.  Six years ago, the choice would have been so
simple.  Six years ago, nothing else mattered.
       
But now, something else did.

Someone else did.

*  *  *  *  *
       
       
Walter Skinner found Margaret Scully alone in the kitchen. 
Safe from prying eyes, he allowed himself a swift kiss on
the side of her neck.  To his delight, she blushed as she
turned and swatted him with a dishrag.  "You're an overgrown
school boy, Walter."
       
He grinned broadly--an expression he saved for her and her
alone.  "Don't let that get out.  I have a reputation, you
know."
       
"I know.  Fox has been very forthcoming."
       
He winced.  "Ouch.  That boy's delusional, you know."
       
She chuckled.  The sound reminded him of her daughter. 
"That's MY boy you're talking about."
       
"I know.  The one that actually shows up for family
gatherings."  He braced himself for her maternal wrath.
       
But she merely laughed again.  "Now who's been talking to
Fox?"
       
"I told him about Matheson's plan to make me Director."
       
Her smile faded.  "And about reopening the X-Files?"
       
He nodded.  "They both want it.  I could see it in their
eyes."
       
"It just complicates things so much."
       
"I know."
       
She lifted her hand to his jaw, running her fingers from his
ear to his chin, trailing fire along his skin.  "Can't you
do anything to help them?"
       
He turned his face to press his lips into her palm.  "I'll
do what I can Maggie.  I promise."
       
She lowered her hand and backed away as they heard voices
approaching the kitchen.  By the time Mulder and Scully
walked through the doorway, Maggie was several feet away,
folding the dishrag and putting it on the counter by the
draining rack.  Skinner dragged his eyes away from her
small, curvy form, knowing Maggie would kill him if her
daughter caught him staring and began to put two and two
together.
       
Scully crossed to her mother, apparently misreading the
slight tension in the room.  "How are you holding up, Mom?"
       
Maggie turned to smile at her daughter.  "I'm fine.  Ready
to go?"              
       
Scully nodded and hooked her arm through her mother's.  Her
blue eyes sought out Mulder, and Skinner hid a smile.  He'd
seen this day coming for years now.   He was surprised it
had taken this long.
       
Maggie met his eyes as she passed him, the warmth of her
gaze filling him with an ache of happiness. After Sharon's 
death, he'd thought he'd never find someone to love again.  
But Maggie was impossible not to love.  Once he'd begun to
consider the possibilities, he'd been lost.    

Now he just had to convince her she was as madly in love 
with him as he was with her.

*  *  *  *  *

"And now I want to introduce someone who's loved Missy a
long time."  Scully held out her hand to the slim, long-
haired man who hovered on the fringe of the crowd at Missy's
gravesite.  He had a guitar strapped to his back;  Scully
had finally talked him into sharing a favorite song of
Missy's for the graveside remembrance.  "This is Mark Lacey,
and he and Missy shared two years of love, laughter and
tears."
       
Mark squeezed her hand, a smile curving his lips even as his
eyes spoke of anguish and heartbreak.  Impulsively, Scully
hugged him.  "You can do it," she whispered.  Then she
backed away, automatically seeking and finding Mulder's
lean, handsome face in the crowd.  She crossed to his side,
stepping naturally into his embrace.  His arm held her close
as they listened to the soft chords of Mark's guitar.  Then
he started singing in a whiskey dark baritone.

     "There will always be a place in my heart, in my heart,
     No matter what I do,
     There will always be a place in my heart, in my heart,
     There's a place for you.
     The roads that we travel
     Some of them near, and some of them far
     We each go our own way
     I cling to the past, while you reach for the stars."
      
Scully glanced up at Mulder and found his gaze on her. 
That's us, she thought.  Sometimes going in opposite
directions, but there's always something that draws us back
together.

     Remember winter,
     It made you cry,
     Remember summer
     That lullaby..."
                                  

Mulder's arm tightened around Scully, and she blinked back
tears, remembering her sister's heartbreaking loss.  Baby
Dana Margaret, here and gone in two short weeks.  She'd
never gotten to see her little niece.  Never got to say
goodbye.             
       
     "I will remember
     In the days to come
     You standing in the wilderness,
     Laughing in the sun.
     So wherever you may wander
     Wherever your restless heart decides to go,
     No matter the distance,
     I want you to know.
 
     "There will always be a place in my heart
     In my heart,
     No matter what I do,
     There will always be a place in my heart,
     In my heart,
     There's a place for you."

Scully lifted her eyes to the clouds above, watching the
puffy cummuli changing shapes.  A heart, a tree, a sheep, a
fat rabbit...
       
And an angel, with wings as wide as the world.
       
She smiled at the cloud angel.  I miss you, Melissa.  

I love you.
      
                                  
End of #8


TWELVE DEGREES OF SEPARATION
No. 9:  May
"Mutineer"
By Paula Graves
GravesPA2@aol.com

The beach house was large and airy, with a second story deck
that wrapped around three sides of the house.  It was on
this deck, stretched out on a chaise lounge, that Fox Mulder
found Dana Scully late Friday afternoon before Mother's Day.

The deck faced the Atlantic, which shimmered with rubies
cast by the sun setting behind the house.  No East Coast
sunsets over the water, he thought with a tiny niggle of
disappointment. Although he suspected the sunrise would be
pretty spectacular.
     
Besides, all the beautiful colors of sunset could be found
in Dana Scully--fire and saffron in her red hair, eggshell
blue in her eyes, ripe apricot in her full lips.  She turned
her head at the sound of his footsteps and smiled one of her
rare, beautiful smiles.  "Don't you look nice and touristy?"
     
He glanced down at his bright chartreuse t-shirt and baggy
black shorts.  He shrugged.  "I've worn louder ties,
Scully."
     
She nodded, a faint smile touching her lips.  "Yes, you
have."
     
"Nice drive down from D.C.?"
     
"Yeah.  It was good to spend a couple of hours just talking
to Mom.  We sort of caught up on everything."

Not everything, he thought.  He could tell by the placid
expression on Scully's face that Margaret had not yet told her
about her relationship with Walter Skinner.  He was going to 
have to have a serious talk with Mrs. Scully.  

"How was the flight?"  Scully asked.
     
"Fine.  Mom and I picked up a rental car at the airport in
Norfolk and drove the rest of the way.  I guess we did a
little catching up, too."  He pulled up one of the other
lounge chairs and sat next to her.  "Did you know my mom
speaks Russian?"
     
Scully cocked her eyebrow.
     
"Neither did I," Mulder admitted.  "I don't even know my
mother, Scully.  But I'm beginning to figure out that I'd
really like to."
     
She reached over and took his hand in hers.  "I'm glad."
     
He twined his fingers through hers, pleased when she didn't
resist.  "So how's work been?"
     
"Dull without you to keep things hopping."
     
This is real progress, he thought.  A little dose of sweet
talk, Scully style.  It had been a while--since before that
disastrous party back in March.  Of course, his visit to
Washington last month had smoothed over some of the hurt,
but they weren't back to normal yet.  And they were a long
way from where he wanted them to be.
     
He wondered how fast he could take things.  He didn't want
to spook her, but he'd been waiting for another Scully kiss
since Christmas.  That kind of patience was almost
superhuman--and surely deserved some sort of reward.
     
"So have you been thinking about what we talked about last
month?" Scully asked.
     
He darted a glance at her, surprised she'd bring up the
subject so quickly.  Then again, why was he surprised? 
Scully had never been one to tiptoe around a subject.  "It's
almost all I've been thinking about," he admitted.
     
"Do you need more time?"
     
"No."
     
She nibbled her bottom lip, a thoughtless gesture that sent
hot little shivers running through him.  He imagined himself
nibbling that full lip--tasting her, running his tongue over
the ripeness, suckling...
     
He shifted on the lounge chair, grateful that his shorts
were loosely cut.
     
"Well?" she asked.
     
"The last time I saw you, I told you what I want."
     
The little sigh of relief that spilled from her lungs made
him feel a lot more confident.  

"And you're absolutely sure?" she asked.  "I mean, with
Skinner so close to confirmation--and the X-Files--"
     
He nodded.  "If we don't try to make things work, we'll
spend the rest of our lives regretting it.  X-Files or no X-
Files.  We both know that we're going to keep looking for
the answers.  We don't need an official seal from the FBI to
do it."
     
She tightened her grip on his hand.  "You have to pull your
weight, Mulder."
     
She wasn't talking about work now, he realized.  "I know."
     
"I don't need silly romantic gestures or sweet talk.  I just
need to know that we're together all the way.  Nobody
running off or running out."
     
"Where could I go, Scully?" He sat up so he could look into
her eyes.  "There's nowhere on earth I could go where you
couldn't find me.  You've proved that more than once."
     
"I'm tired of having to talk my way onto Navy planes and
military bases."
     
"I'm always going to take chances, Scully.  As long as the
truth is out there."
     
"I'm not asking you to stop.  I'm just asking you to take me
with you."
     
He smiled at her intense expression.  Isn't this exactly
what he'd never thought he'd find?  A woman who would
willingly walk through fire with him?
     
How, in his sad, cursed life, had he been fortunate enough
to be loved by Dana Scully?  He smiled at her. "Are you
going to be mad at me when I try to protect you?  Because I
should point out that I don't get mad at you when you
protect me."
     
"You don't have time to get mad.  You're too busy running
for your life."
     
He leaned across the gap between their deck chairs, hoping
to tempt her the way she tempted him.  He was not disappointed. 
She closed the gap between them, touching her lips to his.  It
was the first kiss since December, and it shook him to his
marrow.
     
They moved, although he couldn't remember when or how.  All
he knew was that they were both in his lounge chair, her
body pressed firmly against his side, her arms around his
waist and his around her shoulders, his hands in her hair as
he held her face and deepened their kiss.
     
Tongues dueling, fingers exploring, minds reeling---
     
"Ahem."
     
Scully jerked out of his arms at the sound of his mother's
quiet throat-clearing.  She scrambled back into her own
chair, her face red with embarrassment.
     
Mulder made a face at his mother, surprised and secretly
pleased by the amusement in her hazel eyes.  Caroline's lips
curved in an answering smile.  "Sorry, but Maggie and I are
about to go into town to buy some groceries.  We thought we
might first eat dinner at that little seafood place on the
main highway.  Don't suppose you'd like to come?"
     
Mulder looked at Scully.  She studiously avoided his eyes. 
His mind reeled, worked furiously to gauge the
possibilities.  How long would it take for Mrs. Scully and
his mother to buy groceries?  Long enough to do more than
neck like teenagers?  It all depended on how quickly things
progressed--
     
He pulled himself up short.  No.  Quickies were sometimes
quite satisfying, but not like this.  Not their first time. 
The first time he made love to Dana Scully, it was going to
be special.  Perfect.  Not a frantic race with the clock
before their mothers got back to the beach house.
     
He thought a trip into town was a smart idea.  "Yeah, I
think I'd like to play tourist.  Scully?"
     
She met his eyes, her expression a mixture of gratitude and
disappointment.  "Yeah, that would be a good idea."
     
     
*  *  *  *  *

Caroline Mulder sought out Dana Scully while her son was
helping Margaret unload their shopping purchases after
dinner that evening.  "Dana?"

Dana looked up, her blue eyes slightly wary, and Caroline felt 
a moment of guilt, knowing that Dana had every right to be
cautious.  Caroline was aware that Dana knew almost everything
there was to know about the nightmare Caroline's  own family 
had become twenty-seven years ago, the night Samantha had been
taken.  The young woman knew about the  lies, about Bill's
deception and treachery.  Dana knew about Caroline's own guilt,
the way she'd let her son carry the entire burden of pain and
recrimination while she cocooned herself in the madness-spun
fabric of denial.

It might be easier to let that image remain, let Dana go on
believing what she would.  It wasn't as if Caroline and Fox
had shared a particularly close mother-son relationship. 
She could quite easily recede to the background, go back to
the days when Fox rarely showed up for a visit, called
infrequently, sent cards for birthdays and holidays instead
of showing up and spending the day.

But the last few months had changed things for them.  She'd
begun to repair years of damage, becoming friends with a son
she'd once feared lost to her forever.

And she wasn't ready to let that go.  Even if she had to
deal with some unpleasant realities, including Dana Scully's
obvious distrust of her.

"Would you come take a walk with me on the beach?" Caroline
ventured.

She saw a hundred thoughts pass behind Dana's expressive
eyes in the second before she answered.  "Of course."

"Fox, Dana and I are going for a walk," she called to her
son, who was coming in the front door of the beach house,
carrying a shopping bag in each arm.  He looked surprised
but nodded.

Caroline and Dana donned jackets to ward off the coolness of
the evening.  Caroline let Dana lead the way down the foot
path to the beach.  She studied the woman's small, slim
form, noted the way the rising moon, while washing Dana's
fair skin to pearly porcelain, couldn't mask the fiery
redness of her hair.

Dana wasn't at all the kind of woman she'd expected Fox
would love.  And, yet, she was exactly the sort of woman
Caroline herself would have chosen--a fact she suspected
would surprise her son greatly.  Intelligent, caring, gentle
and yet steadfast, Dana matched her son's intensity with a
quiet but equal strength.  She alone had the power to reach
through his wall of defense, and if for no other reason,
Caroline would always love Dana Scully for that.

"You never met Fox's father, did you?"

Dana looked up, tension evident in her expression.  She didn't
answer for a long moment, so long that Caroline wondered if 
she'd understood the question.  But then Dana said, "No."

A volume of emotions in that one word, Caroline thought.  She
wasn't sure she recognized them all.  "Bill was always driven. 
To succeed.  To make money.  To have power.  His drive
was--breathtaking.  I was in complete awe of him. He knew just
what he wanted and was willing to do anything, sacrifice
anything to get it." 

Dana's expression never changed, but her eyes gave away so 
many of her emotions.  Caroline had noticed this about Dana
Scully the very first time she met the woman at the cemetery
in Boston, right after Bill had been put to rest.  Dana had
told Caroline that she believed Fox was still alive, despite
what Walter Skinner had told Caroline only a day before.  As
Dana had spoken, her face had been earnest, her expression
placid.  Her tone of voice was calm and oddly detached.  But
her eyes!

Her eyes had told Caroline that Dana Scully loved her son
more than anything else in the world.

"Fox is like his father that way," Caroline continued. 
"He's always been willing to make sacrifices to attain his
goals.  Until he met you."

Dana's expression did change then, a little tightening of
her lips.  Caroline could tell the thought disturbed her
somehow.  Odd, she thought, that the very thing she'd come
to hate in her own husband was a quality Dana obviously
loved in Fox.

"I remember the first time I heard your name.  Or, your last
name."  Caroline chuckled softly, and Dana joined her.  "Fox
was still recovering from that horrible gunshot wound to his
leg--you were there on that case."

Dana nodded, her eyes shiny.  "That was right after Dad
died."

"I flew down to Washington to visit while he was still
recuperating.  I think he was quite impatient for me to
leave."

"I'm sure you're wrong--"

Caroline shook her head and smiled.  "I can hardly blame
him, Dana.  I haven't earned his love or trust.  He's been
more generous with me than I deserve.  Anyway, he told me
that 'Scully' had been checking up on him, and that I didn't
have to worry about him.  And I knew then that he wasn't
alone anymore.  I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his
voice."

Dana's little half-smile transformed her face.  With great
clarity, Caroline could see what her son found so
captivating about his former partner.  Dana Scully had a
deep, quiet beauty that transcended the outer trappings of
attractiveness.  It radiated from her, lit up the world
around her.  She was--

--incandescent.

"I want to atone for my failures, Dana.  To Fox--and to you,
as well, because you love him and you must despise me for
the way I've let him down."

Dana put her hand on Caroline's arm.  "I believe that a
person is no better or worse than his last act of kindness. 
I don't care about what happened in the past, Mrs. Mulder. 
I care about what's happening now and what happens in the
future."

Impulsively, Caroline tucked Dana's hand in the crook of her
arm, and they resumed walking.  They spoke no more, sharing
in a companionable silence that proved to be its own
communion.

*  *  *  *  *

Mulder stood in front of the large picture window at the back 
of the beach house, his eyes following the slow approach of
Scully and his mother as they walked back up the beach to the
house.  Thick as thieves, Mulder thought, a little surprised 
but glad.  He was slowly but surely learning how to enjoy his
mother all over again, and he was glad Scully was sharing in 
this journey of discovery with him.  They'd been through enough
bad times together.  They were overdue for some good times.

The sound of the phone ringing stirred him from his thoughts.  He
crossed to the counter.  "Hello?"

There was a brief, thick silence.  Then Walter Skinner asked,
"Mulder?"

"Sir?"  He glanced at Margaret Scully, who had just walked into 
the living room.  Her dark eyebrows arched slightly.

"Is Maggie Scully there?"

Mulder grinned at Margaret.  "Yes, sir."

Skinner's voice tightened with impatience.  "Well, may I
speak to her?"

Mulder considered giving Skinner a hard time, but the
impatient set of Margaret Scully's mouth made him think
better of the impulse.  He handed her the phone and crossed
back to the picture window, trying not to listen in on Mrs.
Scully's part of the phone call.

But Mrs. Scully didn't bother to keep her voice down. 
Skinner had obviously told her that Mulder knew about them. 
"Did you have a good day, Walter?"

Mulder looked down at the beach.  Scully and his mother were
still a good ways down the beach, but he stayed on guard,
ready to alert Mrs. Scully of their impending arrival.  He
wanted Mrs. Scully to come clean with Scully about Skinner,
but he certainly didn't want Scully to find out by overhearing
her mother sweet-talking Skinner over the phone.

Night had fallen, the dark sky lit by the moon rising over
the water.  The light from the lamps behind him created a mirror
image of the room in the plate glass window.  He could see the
reflection of Margaret Scully smiling as she spoke into the
receiver.  "Dana and Caroline are out walking, but Fox
stayed behind to help me unpack groceries."  The words were
mundane, but Mulder could hear the little nuances hidden in
her voice.  He couldn't help but turn and stare at her.  His
heart seemed to stop for a moment.  

That's how Scully looks when she looks at me, he thought.

He turned back to the window, a smile curving his mouth. 
His reflection revealed a madman, grinning like a fool. 
But a man should be forgiven his foolishness, he thought, 
when he's finally realized that the woman of his dreams is
truly, deeply in love with him.

So what if Scully'd never actually said the words?  She'd
been saying "I love you" with her actions and expressions
for years.  Following him to the ends of the earth, leading
him bravely through the heart of danger, holding on and not
letting him go when letting go would be the easiest thing in
the world.

In Margaret's soft conversation with Skinner, he heard the
same silent words that passed between Scully and him in
every phone call, every e-mail message, every stolen moment
they found together.  

Words that said, "You're not here.  Why aren't you here? 
Don't you know that your place is by my side--always?"

And this silent communication wasn't something new.  He
could clearly remember a particular time five years ago, the
first time the X-Files were shut down and he and Scully were
separated. Back when Krycek had worked with him.  

They'd been looking for a veteran--a subject of heinous
government studies into sleep eradication--who was suspected
of complicity in a couple of bizarre deaths in the New York
City area.  But even though Krycek was his partner on the
case, it was Scully whom Mulder had called with questions,
theories and ideas.  Not because he had instinctively
distrusted Krycek but because he implicitly trusted Scully
like he trusted no other.

He'd been slightly taken aback when she started asking wary
questions about his new partner.  Her words were light, but
he'd heard the wistful tone when she said, "Sounds like your
new partner's working out."

"Yeah, he's all right," Mulder had answered.  "He could use
a little more seasoning and some wardrobe advice, but he's a
lot more open to extreme possibilities than--"

"Than I was?" she'd interrupted.  

"Than I assumed he would be," he'd answered.

"Must be nice not having someone questioning your every
move, poking holes in all your theories."  

She was daring him to agree, he could tell.  He couldn't
help but smile at the absurdity of her little moment of self
doubt.  As if he could possibly be better off without her by
his side.  "Oh, oh yeah...it's..it's great.  I...I'm
surprised I put up with you for so long."

The pause after his joking reply had been long and thick. 
He could hear her thoughts, her wishes.  She wanted to be
the one by his side, pursuing the wildest of possibilities
no matter how they flew in the face of her long cherished
beliefs.  And he'd wanted her there with him, too.

Always.

Mrs. Scully's voice broke into his faraway thoughts.  
"Goodnight, Walter."  She hung up the phone, her slow 
movements betraying her reluctance.

Mulder turned around.  "Are you ever going to tell Scully
about you and Skinner?"   

Mrs. Scully looked away.  "Soon."

"How soon?"

She raked her hands through her hair, and he could see that
she dreaded telling her daughter about what was happening. 
"It's not going to be easy, Fox.  Dana loved her father
dearly.  It won't be easy for her to accept that I might
want to be with another man." 

"Scully's not heartless, Mrs. Scully.  She'll be glad as
long as you're happy."  He reached out and took her hand. 
"And I can tell you're happy."

She smiled. "Yes."

"Then tell her."  He squeezed her hand and released it as
they heard footsteps on the wooden stairs outside.  

A moment later, Scully and his mother came into the house. 
Their cheeks were pink with the exertion and the cool night
air, and they both looked as if the walk had been good for
them--in more ways than one.

Scully gave her mother a quizzical look as she kicked off
her shoes.  "Mom?  You look flushed.  You're not feeling 
sick, are you?"

Mulder bit back a soft laugh, watching Mrs. Scully visibly
struggle with the urge to burst into laughter.  "I'm fine,
honey.  I must have gotten too much sun today."

"I think I brought some burn lotion.  I'll go get it." 
Scully disappeared toward the back of the beach house.

His mother's sharp eyes missed nothing.  "What's going on,
Maggie?"

Margaret crossed to her, keeping her voice low.  "Walter
called."

"Oh," Caroline said, as if that explained everything.

"You're going to have to tell Scully soon," Mulder said
quietly.

Margaret nodded.  "I will.  I'll tell her tomorrow."

*  *  *  *  *

Scully found Mulder out on the balcony, stretched out on one
of the lounge chairs.  She wrapped her jacket more tightly
around her and crossed to him, sitting on the edge of his 
lounge chair.  "What are you doing out here, Mulder?" 

He gave her a lazy half smile.  "Oh, sittin'.  Thinkin'."

She lifted one eyebrow.  "As I recall, that usually gets you
in trouble," she murmured, remembering how "sittin' and thinkin'"
had led Mulder to Bambi Berenbaum and the Miller's Grove
insanity.

His smile widened just a bit.  "Even if I'm sittin' and
thinkin' about you?"

"Mmm, good answer, Mulder."  She bent and touched her lips
to his, slipping her cold hands under his t-shirt. 

"Yowch!  Your hands are cold!"  He arched his back.

She didn't let him get away.  "So warm them."

"Not with my back!"  He pulled her hands around to the front
and rubbed them vigorously between his own.

"This isn't nearly as much fun," Scully noted.

"Where did you get this devilish streak, Scully?"

"You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that."

"I thought you liked bad girls.  Remember, I met Phoebe."

"Ouch."

"And there was--"  Suddenly, she pressed her mouth shut.  
She had almost said, "Kristen."

But she couldn't tease him about Kristen the way she could
about Phoebe.  After all, he hadn't slept with Phoebe while
Scully was missing.  

She started to pull away but he held her still.  "What's the
matter?" he asked.

"Nothing."  She didn't want to talk about Kristen--maybe
because she knew that Mulder didn't want to talk about her. 
Something about that dark time in Los Angeles had burned
Mulder to the core.  Maybe he'd felt more for the woman than
he'd admitted, to her or himself.  She tried to tell herself
that it didn't really matter.  Regardless of what feelings
he'd had for Kristen Kilar, she was gone.  And Mulder was
right here, right now, with her.  

That was all that mattered, wasn't it?

Mulder reached up and fingered a coppery strand of her hair
that spilled onto his chest.  "Your hair's getting so long."

Glad he changed the subject, she nodded.  "I've been letting it
grow."  It was almost as long as it had been the first time she
met him seven years ago.  

Had it really been that long?   March of 1992.  The single most
significant moment of her life.  If she lived to be a hundred,
she'd never forget walking into that office and seeing Fox 
Mulder turn to look at her, his hazel eyes sharp and wary 
behind those sexy reading glasses she loved so much.  She 
smiled.  "Remember the first time I walked into the basement 
and bearded the Fox in his den?" 

Mulder's lips curved in response.  "Remember?  I'm the guy 
with the photographic memory."

"Then you remember that you accused me of being a spy."

"You WERE a spy."

"I was not."

"You were a beautiful spy, sent to drive me so out of my
mind with lust that I couldn't possibly uncover all the
fiendish government conspiracies surrounding me."  He
nuzzled her chin, sending little sparkles of sensation
shooting down her spine.

She arched her neck, encouraging his mouth to explore.  "But
you were too strong for their dastardly plot.  You bravely
kept me at bay for seven years, foiling their evil plans--"

"But it wasn't easy."  He nipped the soft flesh under her
chin, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

She struggled to find her voice.  "You made it look easy."

"Believe me, Scully, it wasn't easy."  He cradled her face
between his hands, making her look at him even though her
eyelids felt heavier than lead.  "If things between us had
been different--"

"We might not be together now," she finished before he could
utter the unwitting lie.  

She saw the silent acknowledgement of her words shining in 
the depths of his hazel gray eyes.  He knew as well as she 
did that if they'd met under more normal circumstances, he'd
never have let her get close enough to have any kind of effect 
on his heart.  She had earned his trust and love through a 
trial of fire.  And he had earned hers in much the same way.  
"Do you know what I love most about you, Mulder?"

His eyes widened slightly at her words, and she felt a
slight tearing sensation in the center of her chest as she
realized how powerfully that soft, almost thoughtless
declaration of love had affected him.  

His beautiful mouth trembled as if he wanted to say
something but couldn't find the words. She stilled his lips
with her fingertips.  "You're the most true person I know,
Mulder.  You've always told me the truth, even when you knew
it wasn't what I wanted to hear.  I depend on that and
appreciate that more than you know."

The slight frown lines that creased his face surprised her. 
Somehow, what she'd just told him disturbed him. 

Why?

She traced the lines on his forehead with her fingertips. 
Was he still worrying about the little moment of tension
that had cropped up between them?  She felt guilty herself,
for letting the ghost of Kristen Kilar come between them when
they were just finding each other again.  She gave him the
sweet smile she saved for special occasions like waking up
from a coma--or watching him wake up from a coma. "You just
can't go a day without a frown, can you?"

He smiled.  "I'm one morose bastard."

"But you're MY morose bastard."  She slipped her hand down
the side of his face, tracing the angles and planes of his
cheeks and jaws.  He still looked troubled, and she found
herself fighting off a wave of anxiety.

He pulled her onto his lap, tightening his arms around her. 
She lifted her face, inviting his kiss, but he merely
pressed his lips against her forehead as if she were a
child, then tucked her head under his chin.  His heartbeat
was slow and steady beneath her ear, and she soon found her
own pulse matching his even rhythm.  But though her body
found harmony with his, her mind remained clouded by growing
doubt.

Mulder was hiding something from her, she realized.  

*  *  *  *  *

Mulder dozed on the beach, the hot mid-morning sun beating
down on his bare back.  He had come down by himself, hoping 
that if he left Scully alone with her mother, Margaret would
finally come clean about her budding relationship with
Walter Skinner.  But when Scully sat down in the sand beside
him and ran her hand teasingly down his spine, he knew that
Margaret must have lost her nerve.

He sighed.  If she didn't tell Scully the truth this
weekend, he was going to tell her himself.  He couldn't
continue keeping this secret from her.  It made him feel
like a liar.

Scully threaded her fingers through his hair, her touch
gentle and affectionate.  It occurred to him then that she'd
always touched him like this--tenderly, lovingly.  Had she
loved him all along?  He knew that he had loved her
all along.  Against his will, almost from the very
beginning.  Even knowing that she was sent to be his
downfall, he'd been powerless to resist her.

He opened one eye and looked up at her, expecting to see
more Scully flesh than he'd seen since their first X-File
case together, when she'd come into his motel room and
stripped down to her underwear--a truly great moment in X-
Files history....

But she was covered almost from head to foot. A wide-brimmed
hat covered her coppery hair, and her arms were sheathed in
a gauzy cotton beach jacket.  Even her shapely legs were
safely hidden from the sun in a pair of white Capri pants.  
Gotta protect that fair Irish skin, he thought with a niggle 
of disappointment.

"Mulder, don't you need some more sunscreen?  You're going
to burn."

He'd just applied a layer of lotion a few minutes earlier,
but he was no fool.  "Yeah.  Mind rubbing it on my back?"

She squirted a liberal mound of sunscreen into her palm and
smoothed it over his back, her touch deft and gentle.  Fire
blazed everywhere she touched, warming him far beyond the
heat of the day.  She kneaded his flesh, worked the lotion
into his skin in small, rhythmic circles.  

She kept up the sensual massage long after the last of the
lotion absorbed into his skin.  She moved over him,
straddling his hips and resting her bottom on the backs of
his thighs as she ran her hands up and down his back and his
sides.

Little devil, he thought, performing her act of seduction
in public.  This was a side to Dana Scully he hadn't seen
nearly often enough. 

"Feel good?" she murmured, bending to speak in his ear. Her
body was hot and soft against his back.

"You're a wicked woman, Dana Scully."

She made a soft sound that might have been a chuckle.  He
knew she tried not to laugh at his jokes--which made him try
all that harder.  It was a little game between them, one of 
many little games they played.  They were like long-time 
lovers that way; they'd created their own private universe 
with its own set of rules.  When they traveled together, 
she read the maps because he was terrible at directions.  
But he usually drove, because on the few occasions they 
rented a car without bucket seats, she had to slide the seat 
up so far to reach the pedals that his chin kept bumping his
knees.  He knew to make coffee if he beat her into the office,
because she was a bear until she had that first cup.  She 
knew to keep her distance when he was in a really black mood.  

They had already negotiated so much of their life together
that he couldn't help but believe they could make their love
last forever.  It was one of the few things in his life
about which he was truly optimistic.

"This feels so strange," she murmured.  She sat back, her
hands falling away from his spine.

He twisted his head, trying to look at her over his
shoulder.  Shaded by her hat, her eyes were luminous and
dark.  "Strange how?" he asked.

She moved off of him and sat beside him in the sand, crossing 
her legs Indian style.  "Like we're doing something we're not
supposed to."

He propped up on one elbow to face her.  "Well, this IS a
public beach...but we're really not doing that much--"

"That's not what I mean.  I guess--"  She paused as if 
searching for the right words.  "I've thought about being
with you this way for a long time, Mulder.  More than I've 
even admitted to myself.  But we couldn't--not the way things
were, all the danger and the struggles...and the fact that
we were partners...."

He nodded, understanding exactly.  He'd kept his own urges
sharply in check, knowing that one wrong move could bring
everything crashing down around them.  As much as he'd
wanted her--needed her--sometimes, he didn't dare act on
those feelings.  "And now you're uneasy."

"I just--I feel like somebody's watching us, waiting for us
to go too far, and then, bam!  They'll smash us like--"

"Cockroaches?"

She poked him lightly in the ribs.  "You know, you've
brought up that bug fiasco twice in twenty-four hours.  Are
you sure you were sittin' and thinkin' about me--or an
entomologist you once knew and lusted after?  Because I feel
the need to point out that Dr. Berenbaum and Dr. Ivanov got
married last year.  I read it in a science journal."

He sat up and smiled.  "Dr. Beren-who?"

"Another good answer!"  Scully bent forward, rewarding him
with a soft, sweet kiss.  

He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head
steady as he deepened their kiss.  She scraped her teeth
gently over his tongue, suckling lightly.  The sensation
jolted through him, making his head spin.  Breathing seemed
not only impossible but unnecessary--because he was pretty
sure his heart had just stopped beating.

Scully drew away slightly, looking down at him with heavy-
lidded eyes.  Her lips were swollen and moist from his kiss,
and he felt a surge of masculine power at the knowledge that
he had done this to her, reduced his fierce, disciplined
Scully to this soft, shivering, clinging woman.  Then he
felt the shuddering of his own body and knew that he wasn't
the only one with power.  

She bent and touched her mouth to his throat, gently
nibbling at his Adam's apple.  Nipping, tasting, kissing all
the way up his throat, over his chin, along his jaw, behind
his ear.  

Yes, he thought, I'm sure my heart just stopped.

Then he felt his pulse again, lurching and racing, and he
couldn't seem to find enough air to keep up with the frantic
pace.  He gasped when she caught his earlobe between her 
teeth, panted when she suckled the little piece of flesh, 
groaned when she stopped.

"Why did we bring our mothers along on this trip again?" she
murmured in his ear, her voice soft and breathless.

"Um, because it's Mother's Day?"  He found the strength to
grin.

She nodded, chuckling weakly.  "Oh, yeah.  I knew there had
to be a good reason."

"And as such, we probably should be in there spending time
with them instead of out here spending time with us."

She sighed, nuzzling his jaw.  "We're horrible children."

"The worst."

"We should be ashamed of ourselves."

"I know I am," he said in mock earnestness.  He watched her
struggle to hold back a grin.  Score one for Mulder, he
thought when she didn't quite succeed.  

"Of course, Mulder, since they're both so obviously trying
to get us married off to each other, what better Mother's
Day gift could we give them than to stay right here and make
out?"  She caressed his cheek.

"I love the way you think, Scully."

"I thought you said I think too much, Mulder."

He shook his head.  "No, I think you TALK too much."  He
pulled her to him, making sure that she didn't talk again
for a long, long time.

Finally, Scully pulled away, breathing raggedly.  As her
respiration slowly returned to normal, she studied him, a
little frown creasing her forehead.

"What?" he asked finally when she remained silent and
pensive.

"Do you have something on your mind, Mulder?  Something
you're not telling me?"

Damn it, why hadn't Mrs. Scully told her the truth?  He
couldn't hide things from Scully, not when she was right
there to read the truth in his eyes.

"There is something, isn't there?  What is it, Mulder?  You
know you can tell me anything."  She touched his face
gently, the caress only succeeding in exacerbating his sense
of guilt.  

He couldn't keep lying to her.  But this particular truth
wasn't his to tell.  "I can't tell you, Scully."

A small, hurt expression flitted over her face for just a
second before she donned her favorite porcelain mask.  She
seemed to shrink from him, even though she didn't move a
muscle.  "Okay."

A Scully cold shoulder was chillier than an arctic breeze,
he thought.  "Scully, I want to tell you what's going on. 
But it's not my secret."

"Then whose?"

He couldn't keep protecting Margaret.  Not if it meant
alienating Scully.  He'd just spent almost two months adrift
from her steadying presence, and he had no intention of
going back to that cold, lonely place.  Not even for
Margaret Scully.  

He stood, dusting sand from his lotion-slick body, and held
out his hand to pull her up.  "Come on, Scully."

"Where are we going?  What's wrong?"

He tightened his grip on her hand reassuringly.  "It's time
you had a talk with your mother."

*  *  *  *  *

"The children," as Margaret Scully and Caroline Mulder
secretly called them behind their backs, were out on the
beach, probably necking like a couple of kids.  Margaret and
Caroline had stayed in the beach house, taking advantage of
the time to catch up on their lives.  Since meeting Caroline
for the first time during the Christmas weekend, Margaret
had made a point of staying in touch, knowing that Caroline
wouldn't make the first overture. 

She was glad she'd made the effort.  Caroline was becoming a
dear friend.  They spoke weekly on the phone and filled in
the blanks with letters--an old-fashioned art of
communication that Margaret Scully preferred.  It had seen
her and her captain through many long months of separation
when he had been at sea.

She'd even told Caroline things she hadn't told her
daughter.  Like the fact that she and Walter Skinner were
seeing quite a bit of each other.

"So have you decided what you're going to do about Walter?" 
Caroline asked.

"Not yet."  Margaret sighed, hating herself for being so
indecisive.  It wasn't that she didn't care about Walter. 
He was a wonderful, complicated, incredibly attractive man.
But he was also ten years younger than she was....

She sighed again.  "Walter says the age difference doesn't
bother him--"

"But it bothers you?"  Caroline's sharp eyes, so like her
son's, searched Margaret's face.

"Yes."  Margaret wiped the kitchen counter even though it
was already spotless, needing something to do with her 
restless hands.  "Yes, it bothers me.  I'm fifty-eight
years old.  Walter's not even fifty yet.  He's talking about
giving up any hopes of his own children--and in another ten
years, he's still going to be a young, virile man, while I'm
going to be--"

"Sixty-eight, Maggie.  You're going to be sixty-eight, not
dead."

Margaret looked up at Caroline, smiling in spite of herself. 
"Now I know where Fox gets his irritating streak."

Caroline laughed softly.  "Maggie, you have a man who's
obviously quite smitten with you.  You shouldn't worry
about things like how much older you are than he.  You
should be asking yourself, do I love this man?"

Do I? Maggie wondered. 

She thought about the way she felt when she and Walter were
together.  He was funny, smart, strong and intense.  He'd
shared parts of himself with her that she instinctively knew
he'd never shared with another person.  And he loved her. 
She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her, felt it
in his touch when he held her close and showed her just how
attractive he found her.

And she felt things she hadn't felt since Bill died.  No,
that wasn't quite true.  She felt DIFFERENT things. 
Different sensations--but were those sensations as powerful
as the deep love and commitment she'd felt for her beloved
captain?   Were Walter's feelings for her as intense as what 
he'd felt for his beautiful (and young) wife Sharon?

Walter's touch inflamed her.  His words wrapped her in
warmth and security.  She found herself missing him mere
moments after he'd left her side.  She thought about him all
the time.

Was it love?

The back door of the beach house opened, temporarily
preventing her from having to answer that question.  Dana
and Fox entered, and from the tension in their faces,
Margaret knew that her time had just run out.

She had to tell Dana about Walter.

*  *  *  *  *

Mulder looked at the apprehensive expression on Margaret
Scully s face and knew that she was finally going to tell
Scully about Skinner.

He was glad, of course, more than ready to rid himself of
the guilt he felt because he d been keeping a secret from
Scully.  But another part of him shook, knowing that no
matter how gently or tactfully Margaret broke the news,
Scully was going to be hurt.  Hurt that she'd been kept in
the dark since Christmas.  Hurt that he himself had known
the truth since April and hadn't told her. 

Hurt that her mother might possibly love someone besides her
father.

He knew how much Scully had adored her father.  In a way,
Mulder loved the man himself because of what he'd meant to
Scully.  The man she fondly called Ahab had been a guiding
force, a steadying hand, a stalwart anchor for his daughter. 
Captain Scully had shaped her into the incredible woman she
was, and Mulder deeply regretted never having the chance to
know the man.  

Bill Scully was the kind of father he and Samantha should
have had, he thought with a mingled sense of guilt and
longing.  He had been one of a kind, and it was going to be
hard for Scully to accept that her mother could ever love
another.  Especially a man like Walter Skinner, who hadn't always
been a
friend--or even an ally.

"Dana, we need to talk."  Margaret gestured toward the sofa.

Scully s fingers tightened around Mulder's hand.  "Is
something wrong, Mom?"

"Fox, why don t we go for a walk?  his mother suggested,
nodding her head toward the back door of the beach house.

Scully didn't let go of his hand.  "No, just tell me what's
going on."  She looked up at him, her eyes betraying her
sudden fear.  He tried to let his own eyes reassure her that
everything would be okay, but he suspected his guilt and
anxiety were all too evident.

Margaret took a deep breath and began.  "Honey, I've been 
meaning to discuss this with you for a while, but the timing
never seemed quite right--and I didn't want to make a big 
deal out of the situation until I was sure that it was 
really going to come of anything--"

Mulder felt the unexpected urge to shout at Margaret.  Just
tell her, for God's sake!  Stop torturing her!

"Mom, are you sick?  Is there something wrong with you?"

Margaret looked stricken by her daughter's anxious queries. 
"No, honey, I'm fine.  Everything's all right.  It's just--"
She paused again, struggling visibly to find the right
words.

Mulder suspected there were no right words.  It was going to 
come as a shock to Scully no matter what Mrs. Scully said.  He
caught Margaret's gaze and gave her a nod of encouragement.

Margaret took another deep breath and lifted her chin.  "Dana,
I've been seeing someone."

Scully's expression barely changed, but her fingers crushed
Mulder's hand, sending shooting pains up his arm.   "Seeing
someone?"

"Yes.  For a few months now."

Scully was silent a moment, her grip on Mulder's hand loosening. 
Mulder felt the blood rush back into his fingers.  "What's his
name?" she asked finally.  "What do you know about him?  Should I
check up on him?"

Mulder couldn't stifle a small huff of laughter, picturing her
"checking up" on the next director of the F.B.I.  Scully's head
whipped around, glaring.  She let go of his hand. 

Uh oh, he thought.  Busted.  

She frowned.  "You knew about this, Mulder?"

"Don't blame Fox, Dana.  He wanted us to tell you, but Walter 
and I wanted to wait until--"

"Walter?"  Scully stared at her mother.  "Walter Skinner?"

Margaret nodded.

Scully blinked rapidly, as if trying to convince herself that 
she was awake and lucid.  "Since when?"

"After Walter joined us for Christmas, he called and asked
if I'd meet him for lunch.  To talk.  He's a solitary man,
Dana.  I suppose his job has forced him to be that way--
always caught in the middle, trying to keep everything
together.  His wife was a buffer while she was alive, but 
since her death...."

Mulder looked down at Scully's pale face, trying to gauge
her reaction.  The mask was back, but he'd gotten good at
seeing through the layers of ice to the vulnerable woman
beneath.  Her mother's confession had shaken her more than
he'd anticipated.  But she was trying hard not to show it.

"I had a good time at lunch," Margaret continued.  "I guess 
it was just nice to spend time with a man, have him treat 
me like I was interesting and attractive.  We'd both lost our
spouses; we had that bond in common.  We started seeing 
each other every couple of weeks, then every week.  But I 
wanted to wait to tell you until I was sure Walter and I 
were serious about each other."

A tiny, almost imperceptible quiver in Scully's lower lip
sent a pang of regret through Mulder's heart.  She looked 
away from her mother, her eyes focusing on a faraway
spot through the picture window.  "And you are?"

Margaret sighed.  "Yes."

Scully lifted her chin, still staring out to sea.  "Are
you happy?"

"Yes."
 
Scully turned to face her.  "Then that's all that matters."

Margaret crossed to her daughter's side.  "Are you sure?"

She met her mother's worried gaze.  Only Mulder saw how much
effort the small action took.  "Yes, Mom.  I love you.  I want
you to be happy."

Margaret hugged her, and Scully buried her face in her mother's
shoulder.  When she lifted her head, she was smiling, but Mulder
knew that she'd been rocked by her mother's confession.

Margaret released her daughter and smiled back.  "I'm going to
call Walter and tell him that you know.  He'll be pleased.  He
thinks so much of you, Dana."  She squeezed Scully's hand before
she left the room.

Mulder crossed to her side.  "Scully--"

She jerked her head around to look at him.  "You knew and you
didn't tell me."

He nodded, his stomach sinking.

"For how long?"

"Since April."

She looked away.  "I feel like I'm the butt of some joke."

"I know.  I'm sorry.  I wanted to tell you, but I just didn't
think it was my place."  He put his hand on her shoulder, half-
afraid she'd shrug him off.  But she didn't.

"Do you think she loves him?"

"Yeah, I do."

She was silent for a moment longer.  The she looked up at him,
her eyes dark and a little shiny, as if she were trying very hard
not to cry.  "I'm going outside for a little while."

"Don't suppose you want me to come with you?"

"Give me a few minutes, okay?  Just to get used to the idea so 
I don't say or do something to upset Mom.  A few minutes, and
then you can come and talk me out of my bad mood."  She managed 
a wobbly smile before she turned and walked out the back door 
of the beach house.

He crossed to the window, watching Scully break into a slow
jog.  She churned through the sand toward the shoreline,
stopping right at the edge.  The breeze off the ocean lifted
her hair, spinning it into a fiery cloud around her lowered
head.

She slowly sat in the sand at the edge of the water and
lifted her chin, staring out across the cold gray expanse of
the Atlantic.  

Looking for Ahab, he thought.

*  *  *  *  *

Oh, Daddy, Scully thought, how could she do this to you?

Overhead, gulls wheeled and screamed, borne on a brisk wind 
that eased the midday heat.  Her father had loved the sea,
given a large portion of his life to it, sacrificed much to
brave its dangers and tame its raw power.  But as much as
he'd loved the sea, he'd always loved his Maggie more. 
Scully had felt a daughter's envy, begrudging her father's
devotion to her mother even as she rejoiced in it.

She'd always believed that the kind of love her mother and
father shared transcended the limits of time and space,
defied even death.

But in one short moment, her mother's words had shattered
that illusion.

Rationally, she knew that she was overreacting.  Her mother
was a vital attractive woman who shouldn't have to live her
life alone.  Ahab wouldn't have wanted her to be alone.  

But Scully couldn't be rational about this.  Because she
didn't understand.  She knew what it was like to love a man 
with every fiber of her being.  And she knew without a doubt 
that she'd never love another, even if Mulder were lost to 
her tomorrow.  Even if it meant spending the next fifty or 
sixty years utterly alone.  Because no one else would ever do.

She had thought that was the way her mother had felt about
her father, too.  But obviously she was wrong.

Did that mean she could be wrong about Mulder, too?

Was forever love nothing more than smoke and mirrors?

Then she felt him.  The wind carried away any sounds of his
approach, but she didn't need to hear him.  She sensed his
nearness in the smallest particles of her being.

"Scully?"

She turned her head slightly toward him, acknowledging his
presence.  "I forgot to ask you.  How did you find out about
Skinner and Mom?"

"Skinner let it slip while we were talking at your Mom's
house during the Memory Party."

"So that's what you two were whispering about."  She looked
at him, trying to maintain some sort of objective detachment, 
to look at him with the eyes of a scientist rather than the 
eyes of a woman in love.  

What do I really feel about this man?  Have I fooled myself
into believing in a fairy tale?

He frowned as if sensing her doubts.  "Scully, are you all
right?  Do you want to talk about it?"

She didn't want to talk--but she had to.  Mulder had been
her sounding board for a long time.  She didn't know if she
could see matters clearly without bouncing her thoughts off
of him and seeing where they landed.  "Mulder, do you
believe it's really possible to love somebody forever?"

"Yes."

His quick, unfaltering response surprised her.  She couldn't
stifle the tiniest of smiles.  "Since when?"

"Since I met you."

Tears filled her eyes, even as her heart soared.  He just
kept coming up with the perfect answers.  "I thought my
parents had that kind of love."

"I believe they did."

"Then how can Mom think of being with someone else?"

"Because your father taught her how wonderful love can be,
Scully.  And having known that kind of love, she doesn't
want to spend the rest of her life without it.  And I don't
think you want her to, either."

Tears spilled down her cheeks.  "No, of course I don't."

"But it still hurts you, doesn't it?"

She nodded, blotting her tears with her fingertips.  "I know
it's childish and irrational, but--"

He scooted closer, draping his arm over her shoulder.  "You
can't help feeling what you feel, Scully.  You just have to
feel it.  Eventually you'll figure out how to deal with it."

Her chuckle sounded a little watery.  "Is that Dr. Mulder
speaking?"

"Yeah.  And that'll be $200.  Pay at the front desk."

She rested her head in the curve of his neck.  "Put it on my
tab."

His arm tightened around her, and she felt his lips brush
her temple with such tenderness that tears filled her eyes
again.  Another thing she loved about this man, she thought. 
He always seemed to know when to give her a kick in the ass
and when to give her a kiss on the cheek.  She rubbed her
head against his shoulder.  Unbidden, a snippet from a
Warren Zevon song floated through her mind.

     "I was born to rock the boat,
     Some may sink, but we will float,
     Grab your coat--let's get out of here,
     You're my witness, 
     I'm your mutineer."

I'm his witness, she thought, and he's my mutineer.  

Always had been, always would be.  And she wouldn't have it any
other way. "It's going to be okay, isn't it?" 

"I trust you to do the right thing, Scully."  He brushed
away her tears with his knuckle.  "You always do."

She closed her eyes and leaned into his strength.  

And felt the wound begin to heal.

End of #9

                                  
TWELVE DEGREES OF SEPARATION
No. 10:  June
When I Fall in Love
By Paula Graves
GravesPA2@aol.com

The white clapboard church was quaint and small, a
surprising venue for the marriage of Samantha Ann Mulder to
the son of one of the wealthiest businessmen on the East
Coast.  But Dana Scully thought that Fox Mulder's sister had
made the perfect choice.  It was a friendly place, full of
warmth and love, just like Samantha.

"The rehearsal went well, don't you think?"  Caroline Mulder
slipped her arm through Scully's, joining her at the flower-
decked altar.

"A few flubs, but they say that if you mess up during the
rehearsal, the wedding goes off without a hitch."  Scully
smiled up at Mulder's mother, still occasionally amazed that
she and Caroline were becoming such good friends.

There'd been a time when she'd have sworn that would never
happen.

"Fox is trying hard not to show it, but I know he's still
hurt that Samantha chose her foster father to escort her
down the aisle."

Scully felt a glimmer of sympathetic pain for him.  She of
all people knew just how much Fox Mulder loved his sister. 
She'd watched him sacrifice every facet of his existence to
his obsession with finding her, risking his life and his
sanity to bring her back to her family.

Her mind understood Samantha's choice.  But her heart never
would.  

Caroline released Scully's arm and smiled at her.  "I'm
riding to the rehearsal dinner with Samantha and Preston.  I
don't suppose you could get a ride with my son, could you?"

Scully returned her smile.  "I could probably talk him into
it.  We'll see you at the restaurant."  As Caroline headed
down the aisle to the exit at the back of the church, Scully
turned back to the altar and looked up at the flower bier
that would bear witness tomorrow morning to the joining of
hands and hearts.  

Scully didn't regard herself as a romantic--and considering
the man she'd fallen in love with, it was a good thing--but
her eyes misted over as she looked around the hushed
sanctuary, taking in the snowy white ribbons and flickering
candles that cast a gleam across the dark mahogany pews
flanking the center aisle.  The string ensemble had left,
their instruments packed up and silenced, but Scully had no
difficulty bringing to mind the haunting beauty of Bach's
"Air on a G String."  It was a piece she'd always imagined
she'd include in her own wedding someday.  Lyrical and
emotional, rich with hidden depths that somehow embodied
everything she'd always believed love should be. 

She wondered if Mulder had ever mentally picked out music
for his wedding day. The thought almost made her laugh
aloud.  Probably something like Wagner's "Ride of the
Valkyries" or "O Fortuna" from Orff's CARMINA BURANA. 
Something frantic, fast and dark to accompany him up the
aisle as he ran shrieking from the church.

The side door next to the organ opened, and the object of
her thoughts walked through, smiling when he saw her. 
"Fantasizing, Scully?"

"More like a waking nightmare."  She graced him with the
tiniest of smiles as she let him take her hand and tuck it
into the crook of his elbow.  "Are you a Wagner fan,
Mulder?"

His eyebrows twitched slightly upwards as they started
walking up the aisle toward the exit.  "Actually, I'm more a
Bach man myself."

She cocked her head slightly.  "What's your favorite?"

"Bach composition?"

She nodded.

He made a little shrugging motion.  "Probably "Air on a G
String."

She couldn't hold back a full fledged smile that time.  The
way he said it, it sounded like the title of one of his
infamous videos--"Air on a G-String," starring Amber
Luscious.

His eyebrows rose slightly, as if he didn't fully trust her
when she smiled at him that way.  "Was that some kind of
trick question?"

She just kept smiling as she led him out of the chapel into
the warm June night. 

*  *  *  *  *

Mulder slouched a bit in his chair, tuning out his mother's
discussion about last minute ceremony changes with Mrs.
Powell.  Mr. Powell Sr. had cajoled Scully out onto the
restaurant's ballroom dance floor and was currently wearing
out her toes with his two--or was it three?--left feet.  But
the song was almost over, and as soon as Mr. Powell brought
her back, Mulder had every intention of spiriting her off to
some dark, quiet corner where they could be alone for a few
minutes before he had to go to Preston's damned bachelor
party.

Scully glared at him when she returned to the table. 
"Thanks for coming to my rescue," she whispered in his ear
as she slid into the seat next to him..

He pasted on his most innocent expression.  "You hate when
I'm overprotective, Scully.  Don't want you to think I'm
acting like the macho man or anything."

The look she gave him would have killed a lesser man.  "You
know, Mulder, there ARE times when it's okay.  Like when I'm
about to lose the use of my feet because a man tanked up on
expensive whiskey has mistaken my toes for the dance floor."

"Oh.  Well, see, I never got that addendum to the rules. 
You should probably repost them to avoid any more
confusion."

"Tell you what."  She stood and held out her hand. "Come
dance with me and I'll whisper all the rules in your ear."

He smiled a lazy smile and took her hand, letting her pull
him to his feet.  They passed Samantha and Preston on their
way to the dance floor, exchanging quick greetings.  The
bride and groom to be were too strung out to make much
conversation, and Mulder was too anxious to get Scully on
the dance floor and into his arms to want to linger.

A small dance orchestra had been playing an eclectic set,
ranging from Glenn Miller favorites to a bizarre but oddly
entertaining medley of Elton John ballads.  Mulder secretly
wished for a slow song so he could hold Scully close in
public--one of his favorite secret fantasies.  His wish was
granted with an old rehearsal dinner standard:  WHEN I FALL
IN LOVE.  A small, dark-haired woman in a sequined gown came
to the microphone and sang the opening lyrics in a smoky
alto.

     "When I fall in love,
     It will be forever,
     Or I'll never fall in love...."

Even in her two inch heels, Scully was too short for the
arms-around-his-neck position.  He didn't let that slow him
down, however, tucking one hand to his heart and guiding her
other hand around his waist.  She leaned in toward him,
fitting her small, silk-sheathed body against his.  She wore
the perfume he gave her for Christmas, the fresh fragrance
filling his lungs with each breath he took.  He closed his
eyes and gave himself up to the sensation of holding her,
feeling her warmth pressed firmly against his chest, hips
and thighs, hearing the soft, almost imperceptible
sussuration of her breathing.

He'd thought that when he found Samantha, his life would be
whole again.  Now, holding Dana Scully in his arms on this
crowded dance floor, he realized that his life would never
be whole without the love of this woman.  Samantha may have
been the goal of all his efforts over the past decade, but
Scully was the prize.

     "In a restless world like this is,
     Love is ended before it's begun,
     And too many moonlight kisses,
     Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun...."

He'd thought he loved Phoebe, but he was wrong.  He'd
thought that Kristen Kilar would fill the gaping hole in his
heart, but he'd been wrong about that, too.  Bambi, that
blonde detective what's her name--no one had come close to
easing the ache in the center of his soul.

No one but Scully.

Ten months ago, when he'd gotten word that the X-Files
division was being shut down again, he thought his world was
about to end. But he'd been wrong. 

It had just begun.

     "When I give my heart,
     It will be completely,
     Or I'll never give my heart,
     And the moment I can feel that
     You feel that way, too,
     Is when I'll fall in love with you."

He tightened his hold on Scully, drawing her to a darkened
corner of the ballroom that had their names written all over
it.  Scully moved with graceful fluidity, effortlessly
following his lead.  When he reached the shadows, he moved
his hands slowly down her back, pulling her even closer.  He
ran one hand over the curve of her hip, feeling her heat
burn his fingers through the thin silk of her blue dress.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" she murmured against his
throat as his other hand joined the slow exploration of her
hips and upper thighs.

"Searching you for weapons," he answered softly into her
hair.

"Find anything?"  Her voice was midnight velvet, brushing
lightly across every nerve ending in his body.

"I'd say you're armed, all right--and definitely dangerous."

She touched her mouth to his throat, her tongue darting out
to flick his Adam's apple.  "Well, from where I'm standing,
it feels like you're packing, too."

He drew his head back, gazing down at her with a mixture of
shock and amusement.  "Dana Katherine Scully!  Does your
mother know you talk like that?"

She chuckled, her eyes large and dark with desire.  "What's
the matter, Mulder?  You can dish it out but you can't take
it?"

He smiled.  "If I didn't have to be at a bachelor party in
less than an hour, I'd show you just what I can dish
out...."

"Big talk, Mulder."  She lifted her chin, her lips pursed
just a bit, enough to make him ache with the need to kiss
her until they were both breathless and shaking.

"It'll give you something to dream about."  He allowed
himself a quick, stolen kiss before the last strains of the
song ended.  Reluctantly, he released her and gave her a
little nudge back toward the table, where Preston Powell and
his groomsmen were already starting to gather in
anticipation of the traditional wedding's eve rite of male
bonding.  Mulder didn't particularly want to go, but he felt
it was his duty to make sure that Preston didn't get wasted
or laid the night before he married Samantha.

"You're not going to get drunk at the bachelor party, are
you?" Scully warily eyed the congregation of men surrounding
the wedding party table.  

"I'm the designated driver," he assured her.  

"Just don't let Preston do anything stupid."

"Oh, believe me, I won't."  He grinned.  "You know, I could
probably sneak you in as entertainment if you want to come
along.  You could wow them with your gun skills."

She bit back a chuckle.  "No, thanks.  Besides, Mom and
Skinner are due to arrive any time now.  I should be here to
greet them."

Mulder's smile faded at the apprehension he heard in
Scully's voice.  This would be the first time she'd seen
Mrs. Scully and Skinner together since she'd learned about
their relationship.  "Maybe I could wait and drop in on the
bachelor party later, Scully--"

She shook her head firmly.  "No, Mulder.  I'll be fine.  Go
keep Preston out of trouble."  She gave him a little nudge
toward the group of men who were beginning to file out of
the restaurant.  "Besides, they're probably depending on
your tape collection for the entertainment."

"Why would they want to watch all my educational PBS
documentaries?" Mulder asked innocently.

She did chuckle that time.  "Smart is sexy...."

He bent and kissed her soundly.  "Yes, it is."  He didn't
want to let her go, but she gave him another push.

With a sigh of regret at leaving her behind, he followed the
other men out the door.

*  *  *  *  *

Scully changed into a pair of black leggings and the
Patriots jersey she'd borrowed from Mulder during the
Mother's Day trip to Keystone Beach and never given back. 
Come to think of it, she'd worn this same shirt back in
January, too, when she stayed at Mulder's after meeting Mark
Lacey.  It made her feel close to him, even when he wasn't
there.

She and Mulder were a whisper from becoming everything she'd
secretly longed for--and never in a million years dared to
hope they would be.  It was scary in a wonderful way--like
standing in the open door of a plane, feeling the wind whip
her hair and make her heart race, and knowing that even
though there was a parachute strapped to her back and all
the lessons were etched in her mind, there was still that
danger of something going wrong--

--but oh, if things went just right, she'd be flying,
soaring, experiencing sensations no human had a right to
feel and every human should have the privilege of knowing.

She wanted to fly with Mulder, hand in hand, heart to heart,
facing this dazzling, daring unknown just as they'd faced
every other secret and shadow in their recent lives--
together, inseparable, invincible.

A thought struck her, unwanted but undeniable.  Was this how
her mother felt about Skinner?  Scully had thought a lot
about what Mulder had said that day on Keystone Beach. 
About how her father had taught her mother how wonderful
love could be, and how her mother must surely want to find
that kind of love again.

Maybe her mother's blossoming relationship with Skinner
really was a tribute to her father, not a betrayal.  In
truth, Scully had no doubts that her mother had loved her
father.  Margaret Scully had taught her children everything
there was to know about honor, integrity and loyalty--

A knock sounded on her door.  Scully stood on tiptoes to
look through the fisheye peephole.  She saw broad shoulders,
a muted gray tie and the top of her mother's dark head.

And I thought Mulder and I looked like the odd couple!   She
couldn't suppress a little grin as she opened the door.

Her mother's blue eyes betrayed a hint of apprehension. 
"Hi, honey."

Scully held out her arms and hugged her mother tightly. 
"Hi, Mom.  Did you have a good trip up?"

Margaret nodded.  "How was the rehearsal?"

"Nerve-wracking for poor Samantha and Preston.  I won't be a
bit surprised if we wake up tomorrow and find they've
eloped!"  Scully released her mother and looked up at
Skinner, bracing herself for the same wave of resentment
that had rushed through her every time his name came up in
conversation over the last few weeks. Oddly, the twinge was
almost imperceptible.  She nodded a greeting.  "Sir."

"Agent Scully."  He ventured a half-smile and carried her
mother's suitcase into the hotel room.  "I'll leave you two
to settle in--"

"No, sir, why don't you stay and visit?"  Scully was almost
as surprised to hear those words come from her mouth as her
mother and Skinner appeared to be.  "Um, have you heard
anything from the Senate hearings?"

Skinner had just been through a week of confirmation
hearings with the Senate.  The opposition to his nomination
had been low-key but persistent--the shadow government
wielding its secret power, no doubt.  However, the last
Scully had heard upon leaving Washington for the wedding,
Matheson's aides were saying they thought that the pro-
Skinner forces had enough votes to ensure the confirmation.

"The vote is supposed to take place either very late tonight
or in the morning.  I guess we'll know one way or the other
by tomorrow afternoon."

Scully nodded.  "I talked to an aide to Matheson this
morning before I flew up here.  She said that things look
promising."

"I'm a little afraid to hope," Skinner admitted.

Scully considered pressing him about his plans for reopening
the X-Files, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear his
answer.  Whatever he decided, there would be complications. 

"I guess Fox is at the bachelor party?" Margaret asked.

Scully smiled.  "I think he's there to make sure Preston
behaves.  And with Mulder glaring at him all night, I'll bet
Preston acts like an angel."

"Mulder must be feeling pretty ambivalent about tomorrow,"
Skinner commented.

"Yes, he vacillates between happiness and depression on the
subject."  Scully chuckled softly.  "Of course, that sort of
describes his mood most of the time, doesn't it?"

Skinner laughed.  "Yes it does, as a matter of fact.  But I
suspect that if he had to choose, he'd rather be giving his
sister away in marriage than still searching for her."

Scully smiled at the understatement.  "I suspect you're
right."  She waved her arm toward the chairs and table next
to her bed.  "Get comfortable, and I'll hunt something for
us to drink."  She slipped on a pair of running shoes and
grabbed her room key and her change purse.

She paused at the end of the hall, taking a couple of long,
deep breaths.  Okay, she thought, that wasn't bad at all. 
Matter of fact, it went really well.  

But if she got back to the room to find Skinner and her
mother in a clinch, he'd better have hidden her gun.
  

*  *  *  *  *

So this is how rich people throw a bachelor's party, Mulder
thought, scanning the room from his position in the corner. 
It ain't so special.   

A handful of groomsmen were huddled around a television
showing skin flicks--seen 'em, own 'em, he thought with a
hidden smile.  Another, smaller group sat at the table in
the center of the suite, doing tequila shooters and getting
completely wasted.  He hoped they weren't members of the
wedding, because they'd be looking and feeling like crap in
the morning.

Preston and a couple of men sat away from the others,
sipping beer and talking quietly.  Mulder kept his eye on
his future brother-in-law from time to time, almost hoping
the guy would make a wrong move and give him an excuse to
call a halt to the whole proceedings--party, wedding and
all.  But Powell was behaving like a good boy.

Ah, hell, Mulder thought, I couldn't have picked a better
guy for her myself.  

Preston was wealthy but unspoiled, smart and generous, funny
and loving to Mulder's sister.  And Samantha adored him.  They'd
known each other since she was a kid--the Powells had sent
their children to the same public school Samantha had
attended in South Carolina.  Preston had been a couple of
years ahead of Samantha.  They'd never dated until they ran
into each other in Boston right after Samantha had come back
to Mulder and his mother.  A catch-up dinner had turned into
a movie the next night, lunch the day after that, and
suddenly they were falling in love.

They'd started out as friends, too, Mulder thought.  Like
Scully and I.

He wondered how she was coping with her mother and Skinner. 
Was the Assistant Director smart enough to know to hide her
gun?  He grinned at the thought.

"Fox, right?"

He looked up, startled out of his thoughts of Scully.  One
of Preston's groomsmen stood in front of him.  Medium
height, brown hair, green eyes--David Cramer, he remembered
from earlier introductions.  "I usually go by Mulder."

Cramer smiled.  "Well, actually, I hear you usually go by
'Spooky.'"

Mulder frowned.

Cramer held up his hand, still smiling.  "Relax, Mulder, I'm
not making fun.  I've been called a few weird names in my
time, too.  'Starman,' comes to mind.  'Spacey.'  I'm a
member of MUFON--well, a fringe member.  I like to maintain
a semblance of normalcy.  Sharing too many alien abduction
stories is hell on a career as a stockbroker."

"So you've been--"

"Abducted?"  Cramer shrugged.  "Something happened to me
over a twelve year period, from the age of ten 'til I
graduated from college.  Chronic episodes of sleep
paralysis, missing time, post traumatic stress episodes." 
He shrugged again.  "Did Reticulans do a cosmic smash and
grab so they could experiment on me?  I don't know.  But
something happened."

Mulder's eyes narrowed, still not sure the man wasn't
putting him on.  "Do you have any evidence of your
experiences?"

"Just the implant."  Cramer reached into his pocket and
pulled out his wallet.  From the bill flap he pulled a tiny
piece of metal and held it out to Mulder.  "It was in the
fleshy area at the back of my neck.  I hear you've seen one
like it before."

Mulder barely suppressed a shudder, remembering Scully's
horror and the months they'd both spent wondering if her
body was about to turn on her because of what those
bastards--whoever they were, human or not--had done to her
while she was missing.  All her medical tests had come back
normal over the past few years, but there was still so much
room for things to go horribly wrong in the future.

"Look, I know you have reason to be suspicious of everyone
you meet these days.  I've kept up with some of the things
that have happened to you and Agent Scully.  News gets
around to the various groups, you know."

Mulder nodded carefully.

"We hear that the president's nominee for Bureau Director
wants to reopen the X-Files."

This guy was too smooth, Mulder thought.  Too damn much like
that rat bastard Krycek.  "Nothing's been settled as far as
I know.  And he hasn't been confirmed."

"Word is, he's going to have enough votes."

"Word is, huh?"

Cramer grinned broadly.  "You ARE paranoid, aren't you?"

"It's not paranoia if everybody really IS out to get you."

"No, I suppose not."  Cramer laughed.  "Look, I'm not trying
to pry the secrets of the crypt out of you here.  I just
have a vested interest in the truth coming out.  I'd like to
know what the hell's been done to me and by whom.  So I
really just wanted to tell you that I hope that the new
director gives the X-Files back to you and Agent Scully. 
Not everybody thinks that you were chasing ghosts.  That's
all I wanted to say."

Mulder nodded.  "Thanks."  He watched Cramer walk away,
feeling uneasy.  He had always embraced the idea that no one
could be trusted--except Scully, of course.  It had saved
his life more times than he could count.  But sometimes--
times like these--he wondered what it would be like to greet
the world with open arms and a trusting soul.  To not
suspect that every kind word hid treachery, that every smile
covered a lie.  He'd once thought that Scully viewed the
world that way, but as he'd grown to know her better, he'd
realized that she was as distrusting in her own right as he
had ever dreamed of being.  But her distrust was in things
she couldn't see, couldn't quantify.  His distrust was in
things he COULD see and quantify.  Like deceit and
misdirection, manipulations and machinations.

He trusted one person--Scully.  More than himself, even,
because he suspected that she loved him far more than he
loved himself.  He was certain she found more worth in him
than he found in himself.

He thought about what Cramer had said about Skinner's
confirmation.  About reopening the X-Files.  He was pretty
sure Skinner would make that move.  He was also pretty sure
that Skinner would want Scully and him back in the basement
they'd left just under a year ago.

But Scully had been right about one thing.  Written rule or
not, the Bureau wasn't going to care much for a pair of
agents who were involved romantically.  The decision might
well come down to what Scully had suggested before--the X-
Files or each other.

Mulder knew what he'd choose.  But he wasn't the only one
making a choice.  And now that Samantha was back, Mulder
knew he wasn't the partner with the most at stake. 

Scully had lost months out of her life.  She'd lost her
sister and an irrevocable portion of her innocence.  And the
X-Files might be her best--her ONLY--means to find justice
for Melissa and the truth for herself. 

Could she really give them up, even for him?  

Could he let her?
  

*  *  *  *  *  

"So, how do I look?"  Samantha turned to look at her
bridesmaids and her mothers.  Linda Chandler sniffed back
tears, while Caroline Mulder viewed her lost and found
daughter with an odd mixture of bemusement and joy.  As the
other bridesmaids gathered around Samantha, straightening
her veil and smoothing out her train, Scully crossed to
Caroline's side and touched the older woman's arm.

"She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" Caroline murmured, her
eyes still focused on her daughter's radiant face.

"Yes."  Scully looked at Samantha, experiencing the same
jarring sensation she'd felt over a year ago when a
disoriented, hazel-eyed brunette emerged from a burning
warehouse in Baltimore and Fox Mulder had uttered a low,
gutteral moan that shot chills through her. 

She hadn't had to hear Mulder's affirmation.  She'd known
who she was looking at.  "Sometimes, I still can't believe
that I'm standing here, looking at her," she murmured to
Caroline. "We looked for her so long, so many places--"

Caroline looked down at Scully, her eyes bright with
suppressed tears.  "You did, didn't you?  It was your
search, too."

Scully nodded, too close to tears to trust herself to speak.

Caroline hooked her arm through Scully's, drawing her
closer.  "I haven't had a chance to tell you how glad I am
that you and Fox are becoming so close."

Scully stifled a little smile.  She and Mulder had been
"becoming close" for six years.  What was emerging between
them now had always been there, sometimes closer to the
surface than other times, sometimes more painful than
pleasant, but it had always been there.  It had been there
in a candlelit room in Oregon, in a car outside Eugene
Tooms' house, in a dark house in Minneapolis, even in a
hotel room in Comity when she'd walked in at the wrong time. 
Tentative, tender, trusting, even tense--it all boiled down
to the same thing.  She and Mulder loved each other, wanted
each other, needed each other.

A soft rap sounded at the door.  Scully was closest; she
went to see who was there.

"Just the brother of the bride," Mulder answered in response
to her soft query.  "Can I come in?"

She glanced over her shoulder.  "Everybody decent?" she
asked.

"Spoilsport!" Mulder hissed through the closed door. 

She smiled because she knew he couldn't see her, then
straightened her face and let him in.

He bent and kissed the tip of her nose.  "Hi, Scully."  

"Hi, Mulder."  She stepped out of his way so he could go to
Samantha, but he lingered for a moment, looking down at
Scully, his eyes darkening slightly.  His gaze swept over
her, intimate as a caress, and heat blossomed deep in her
belly.

He touched her cheek lightly.  "Nice dress."  Then he tore
his gaze away and crossed to his sister.

Scully turned to look at him, her lips curving slightly. 
Nice dress, she thought.  Mulder, you sweet talker, you.
He looked pretty damned "nice" himself, his lean, tall body
doing marvelous things for the charcoal gray morning suit he
and the other groomsmen were wearing.  Of course, he looked
good in everything--from black silk boxers to a black
tuxedo--sans Phoebe Green, of course.

She started gathering up the other bridesmaids, suggesting
they go ahead and get lined up at the back of the church. 
She managed to herd Linda Chandler and Caroline Mulder along
as well, trying to give Mulder a few minutes alone with his
sister before she walked down the aisle to her new life.

*  *  *  *  *

"That was nice of Dana to give us a few minutes alone." 
Samantha hooked her fingers through Mulder's.  Her touch was
gentle, so like the child he'd enshrined in his heart and mind
for over 25 years.  But she wasn't that little girl, and he
wasn't that twelve-year-old who couldn't stop what was
happening to his sister.

"Are you happy, Samantha?  Really happy?"

She smiled, her eyes radiant.  "Yes."

He bent and kissed her forehead.  "I love you, twerp.  Go be
happy."

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him fiercely.  "I know
I'm not what you expected to find, Fox.  I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, Samantha."  He shook his head, tears filling his eyes. 
"You're so much more than I ever expected.  Don't you understand?
I lived in constant fear that when I finally found you, it would
be bones at the bottom of a shallow grave--or some drugged-out
mental case so destroyed by what happened to her that she
couldn't function in the real world."  The haunted, time-worn
face of Lucy Householder flashed through his mind, and he
shuddered.  "When you came back to me, Samantha, you were tired
and haunted but you were whole, and that's something I didn't
dare hope for."

Oh, great, now he'd made her cry.  She was messing up all her
carefully applied make-up.  He grabbed a tissue from the dressing
table and blotted the tears threatening to paint black mascara
tracks down her cheeks.  She gave him a lop-sided grin and took
the tissue from him.  "I love you, too, Fox.  More every day, and
much more than I remember."

If he didn't get out of here and let her compose herself, HE was
going to cry.  He kissed her cheek again and squeezed her hand. 
"Do me a favor, Samantha?"

She nodded.  "Anything."

"When you throw the bouquet--throw it to Scully.  I can use all
the help I can get."  He winked and slipped out of the dressing
room.  

He wasn't surprised to find Scully waiting for him just around
the corner.  She slipped her arm around his waist.  "Are those
tears I see, Mulder?"

"What, me?  A manly man in full bloom of manhood?"  He made a
scoffing sound.  "Allergies."

"Funny, Mulder, in all these years I never knew you had
allergies."  She slanted her eyes at him.  "I'll arrange for you
to start taking the shots as soon as you get back to Boston." 
She released him and headed toward the back of the church, where
the others in the bridal party were gathering in anticipation of
the beginning of the ceremony.

Ouch, he thought and followed her. 

*  *  *  *  *

The wedding went off without a hitch, just as Scully had
predicted.  Nobody fainted, broke into giggles, or tripped
over their own feet.  The vocalist hit all of the high
notes, and Samantha and Preston remembered the vows they'd
written, as far as Scully could tell.

Everybody seemed deliriously happy.

Well, almost everybody.

She looked out the window toward the inlet, where sunlight
sprinkled blinding diamonds on the water.  A breeze bent the
sea grass growing on the shoreline and rippled the dark hair
of the solitary man sitting atop the sea wall, gazing toward
the horizon.  Murmuring an excuse to her mother and Skinner,
she slipped out the side door and crossed the narrow bike
path, the roar of the surf and the wind swallowing the
sounds of her approach.  When she touched his shoulder, he
jumped.
       
"Sorry."  She left her hand on his shoulder.
       
Mulder's look of surprise turned into a contented half-
smile. He held out his hand and drew her down beside him. 
He held onto her hand, his fingers twining through hers.
       
She rested her head against his shoulder.  "Beautiful here,
isn't it?"
       
He looked out at the rippling water, as if trying to see it
through her eyes.  For him, she knew, the Vineyard had
always held such horrors that he'd probably long since
stopped seeing its beauty.  But Scully willed him to see the
appeal of the saltbox houses along the sandy shoreline, the
plaintive cries of wheeling seagulls, the weathered white
light house on the point.  
       
He nodded and released her hand, lifting his arm around her
shoulders. "Yeah."
       
She slipped her arm around him, leaning into his body.  Her
cheek settled just above his heart.  "See, I told you that
it would be just fine."
       
The sea breeze was cool for June, sprinkling chill bumps
over her bare arms.  When she couldn't hold back a little
shiver, he tightened his hold on her.  "I just got her back
and now I've got to give her up again."
       
"To somebody who loves her.  Somebody she loves."
       
He rested his chin atop her head, breathing deeply.  He
locked his arms around around her and lifted her onto his lap 
to hold her even closer.  She moved her hands over his back,
beneath his morning coat, tracing his muscles through the
thin cotton shirt.  She pressed her face against his neck,
breathing in the warm male smell that said "Mulder."  Her
heart rate quickened and her voice shook when she spoke. 
"Samantha's about to throw the bouquet.  She was looking for
you."
       
Mulder leaned his head back and looked down at her. "Looking 
for me? To catch the bouquet?"
       
"Well, the garter." Scully rubbed her cheek against his chest.  
       
"I'll take my chances out here with you."  He kissed her
forehead.
       
"Like to live dangerously, do you?"
       
"Don't you?"  The warm, come-hither look in his eyes, the
way his mouth trembled, the husky timbre of his voice robbed
Scully of coherent thought.  He weaved his fingers through
her hair, holding her head captive, and slanted his mouth
over hers, hard and demanding.  She stabbed his tongue with
hers, suckled, explored.  She felt a hard, wracking shudder
rumble through him, and he slipped off the sea wall to the
sand below, pulling her with him. 
       
He pinned her against the wall, settling himself in the
cradle of her hips.  She tightened her fingers on his back,
digging into his muscles, and parted her thighs slightly to
welcome the pressure of his growing arousal.
       
He moved against her hips, a small sharp thrust, and she
moaned deep in her throat at the answering leap of her body. 
He repeated the movement twice more, quick and hard. 
Pressure built in her head, drowning out the sound of the
surf and the screaming gulls, leaving only the low keening
sound of his breathing and her own soft sighs.
       
Then she remembered where they were.  In public.  In full
sight of the town reception hall.  Where her mother, not to
mention his, could see them necking like a couple of horny
teenagers.
       

*  *  *  *  *

        
Margaret Scully walked up behind Walter Skinner, resting her
hand on his back.  The gentle, possessive touch shot fire
through his nervous system.  "What are you looking at?" she
asked.

He turned and smiled down at her.  "Your daughter and her
former partner participating in a shocking public display of
affection.  Shall we join them?"

Her smile radiated through her entire face, lighting up her
blue eyes.  "What am I going to do with you, Walter Skinner?
I'm too old to feel this young."

He shook his head, wondering if he'd ever be able to
convince her that he never thought about the ten year
difference in their ages, that the laughter lines that
creased her face gave her a special kind of mature beauty
that no cover girl half her age could hope to approach. 
Walter Skinner felt years older than Maggie, aged by the
horrors he'd seen and the fears he lived with every day and
every night.  After Sharon's death, he'd despaired of ever
knowing hope or joy in his life again--until Maggie Scully 
smiled at him across her living room, her gentle face 
glowing in the golden light from the fireplace as she 
watched him open her Christmas gift.

She gave him poetry, and he suspected that he'd given her
his heart that very night.

He put his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head
as they looked out the window of the reception hall.  Across
the road, standing just beyond the sea wall, Mulder and Scully
embraced with the power and passion of their love.

"Have you told them about your phone call?" Maggie murmured.

"Not yet."

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

Except for Maggie, the phone call was all he'd thought about
since it had come just moments earlier. President Matheson
himself had called with the news.  "The Senate vote is in,
Skinner.  You're the new Director."

Director of the F.B.I.  For years, it was a goal he longed
to reach--and never dreamed he would.  But now that it was
his, he wished he'd never set foot in the F.B.I.  Because
after years of desperately foiling attempt after attempt of
the shadow cabal to put an end to the X-Files and separate
Mulder and Scully, Walter Skinner now held the fate of the
X-Files in his hand.

And the next choice he made might separate Fox Mulder and
Dana Scully forever.

*  *  *  *  *

Mulder groaned as Scully gently pulled away from him,
leaving his whole body throbbing with unassuaged need.

"Not here, Mulder."  She nodded toward the reception hall. 
"Not with an audience."

He sighed.  Of course, she was right.

"But the inn is just around the corner."  Her eyes darkened
with