TITLE: Southbound Train (1/1) AUTHOR: Rafferty EMAIL: rafferty@highstream.net RATING: NC-17 for sexual situations CATEGORY: MSR SPOILERS: Per Manum, DeadAlive, Essence, Existence, Trust No 1 KEYWORDS: SAR DISCLAIMER: I won't tell if you won't. SUMMARY: Set during Trust No 1, Mulder fills in a few blanks regarding 'one lonely night' with Scully, and fatherhood. NOTES: Warm, fuzzy thanks to my betas, Tess and Char, without whom, this story would have had ugly punctuation and tense issues in abundance. I recently had the pleasure of meeting them in person, and they are beyond nice, ultra-supportive, and so much fun to be around. Ring-ring-ring, crack-crack-crack, Ladies! ;) FEEDBACK: I print every piece of feedback I receive and keep them in a binder, which I pull out when I need encouragement. Thanks for keeping me motivated! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Southbound Train (1/1) By Rafferty January 6, 2002 Southbound Train #112 It's eleven twenty-eight. Thirty-two minutes until I get to see Scully for the first time in months. My body is exhausted from tension, worry, and roughly eighteen hours of travel. My mind, however, is keenly alert, noting every stimulant around me. The railcar is too warm, the smell of damp, musky wool and last summer's sweat pervades it and I have to force myself to take regular breaths. There are only a handful of people sharing my ride, for which I am grateful. I can't shake the feeling that things are about to get ugly, and I'd prefer there be few casualties when the shit finally hits the fan. Most of the occupants of the car are dozing, lulled by the rhythmic drone of a train in motion. A few are staring into the black void beyond the windows, some are reading in the dim lighting. There is a man about six feet away from me who appears nervous enough to warrant keeping in my peripheral vision, but everyone else seems innocuous so I allow my mind free reign to wander. Of course, the topic it decides to focus on is the email I received from Scully late last night. It read: 'I've met a man who says he has information that can help you. It is possible that he works for the NSA, although I'm not convinced he is operating under their direction. He's been watching us since before William, and has viewed our correspondence since you've been gone and will view this email. 'He is offering names of the people you are searching for, but only if you come back to D.C. to meet with him. I'll be looking for you at our prearranged location. Please be careful. 'Forever yours, Dana' I had known this would happen, that someone would try to use her to get to me. I wasn't even surprised to learn we have been watched. Still, it was disheartening to see in black and white that our lives really are no longer our own, probably never have been. I could also hear the familiar tones of fatigue, worry, and fear in Scully's message. She is as weary as I am. It is for her and for William that I willingly walk into what I know is a trap. They are the only motivation I have to continue searching. Without them, I might have moved long ago to some remote location where I would hopefully live a long and quiet solitary life, then die before colonization reaches my pocket of the world. But, someone has to fight the battles, and I am one of the few people who know what is about to happen to our planet and is willing to do something about it. There's also the fact that I would do anything for Scully, and she is determined that we do everything we can to preserve civilization as we know it for William's sake. Personally, I think the kid could do worse than growing up in some jungle or tundra with two adoring parents as playmates. But then, I've always had a predominantly adolescent view about life and its necessities. And so, I hunt and am hunted, for the sake of mankind, a petite red-head, and a child I last saw when he was three days old but am amazed and humbled to call my son. The nervous man has nodded off, literally. His head is hanging forward, chin digging into his bony chest, drool oozing from the corner of his slack mouth through which grating snores escape at regular intervals. I feel a combination of pity, contempt, and envy for the people around me. Pity, because they have no idea how precarious their lives are, how insubstantial they are in the scheme of things. Contempt, because they choose to believe nothing can harm them and so won't be ready to defend themselves, much less the human race, when the time comes for them to do so. And envy, because they are blissful in their ignorance, whereas I am miserable in my knowledge. What I wouldn't give for Scully, William, and me to have a house in the suburbs, a couple of SUVs parked in the garage, safe, boring nine-to-five jobs and equally safe and boring friends. Yeah, I'm envious. Can you blame me? My knee bounces like a two-year-old in church as I wonder if Scully is looking forward to this reunion half as much as I am. Even now, after all we've been through together, I still have a hard time accepting that Scully is as invested in me as I am in her. I know that I am well-educated, responsible, and must have something going for me in the looks department, at least in Scully's opinion. But she is so much more. Scully is, without question, the most intelligent, generous, beautiful woman I have ever known. Admittedly, she has faults and weaknesses. She's human. But I believe I know all of them, and I still want to spend every minute of every day with her. It doesn't matter if she's on her best behavior or if she's been second-guessing me since dawn. As long as she's by my side, all is right in my world. Some might think I'm obsessed, and I probably am. But if so, I'm not the only one. I've seen the same fascination I have for her on the faces of her many admirers throughout the years, including Frohike, Agent Doggett, and even Skinner. It used to amuse me, but lately I haven't been in much of a mood for sharing. It is this awe I have of her that gets me into trouble, makes me behave like an idiot, and renders me incapable of telling her no. Oh, I can say it if she asks me trivial questions, such as, "How about a nonfat tofutti rice Dreamsicle?" or, "Don't you think your theory is a little farfetched?" But when she asks for something significant, when she needs me to give her privacy or donate sperm, or to help her forget her pain by sleeping with her, I don't even want to say no. I *want* her to need me. I want to be her protector, her comforter, her hero. I want to be as essential to her as she is to me. I suspected I was that important to her was when she asked me to attempt in vitro fertilization with her. I knew I was that important to her the night she invited me to her bed. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Mid May 2000 Scully's Apartment We were sitting side by side on her couch, heads bent closely over a file, preparing a report to be passed along to an apathetic auditor who had probably never worked on a Sunday night in his boring, number-crunching life. We'd been working for a few hours, me tossing out an endless supply of Mulder charm with remarks such as, "One plane ticket, Scully. You can sit on my lap," and, "Does it cost less to dry clean transparent blouses?" Scully indulged me with several cocked eyebrows and half-smiles, while she translated my comments into more acceptable proposals on paper. "Need a break?" I asked as I leaned forward to place the file we just finished reviewing atop a tilting pile of similar folders on her coffee table. "No, I'm fine for now." I sat back next to her again, another folder in hand, allowing my forearm to rest on her thigh in the relaxed position I had claimed minutes after we started working. Long ago, I made it my mission to invade Scully's space at every opportunity. Yeah, I'm a selfish bastard. So sue me. I glanced down at the folder, eyes zeroing in on the descriptor, which is usually a name of a person or town associated with the case. This one read 'Weems'. An interesting but unremarkable case, at least on the surface. What wasn't mentioned in the notes and summary report contained in this folder, and what gave me pause, was that it was during the Henry Weems investigation that Scully and I were waiting to find out whether or not she was pregnant. A sideways glance at her revealed that she, too, remembered the significance of those few days in November. She was staring off into space, her cheeks colorless, grim lines bracketing her lips. I opened my mouth to speak but didn't get the chance. "I guess I do need that break," she said in a tone lacking inflection. I'll take happy Scully, angry Scully, even sad Scully any day over this one, best described as hopeless Scully. She rose from the couch and retreated to the kitchen, her movements less graceful than usual. Damn. I should have pulled that folder out to be reviewed later when I was alone, as I had done with the Pfaster file. I should have scaled the brick wall she erected the night we found out the IVF had failed. I should have forced her to talk about it more, cry more, lean on me more. I should have had stronger sperm. I had purposely kept us in the office during the first week of the eleven-day waiting period, attempting to distract her with paperwork and mindless research. My theory was that the tension of staying home and waiting had to be less stressful for her than running around the country, chasing God knows what, her well-being dependent upon two people whose minds were preoccupied elsewhere. But then this case had come up, and she had insisted on taking part in the investigation. Her rationale was that if the IVF had worked, she wasn't about to sit around watching her ankles swell for nine months while I monopolized all the action. Those were her words, and they were spoken with her bottomless blue eyes full of dreams. She needed to believe, if only for eleven days, that she was going to be a mother, and as I've stated before, when Scully really needs me, I am incapable of telling her no. Nothing significant happened during the investigation. She wasn't in any danger; she got plenty of rest, and ate her vegetables and vitamins like a good girl. She radiated hope, and it made me wish that, just this once, luck and fate and the God she believed in would be on our side. Then, with one quick blood test, dreams and hope had died. For me too, although I never let her know how disappointed I was. I instinctively knew she would carry the weight of that admission as heavily as she carried her own heartbreak. I told her to never give up on a miracle, trying to speak her language, even though Scully herself is the only miracle I have ever witnessed. She cried silently on my shoulder for a few minutes, asked me if I would give her some time alone, and we hadn't discussed it since. Obviously the wounds were still raw. I tossed the folder onto the table and rose to follow her into the kitchen. She was standing at the sink, shoulders sagging, staring numbly at the stream of water as she filled a teakettle from the tap. She wasn't wearing her customary armor of three-inch chunky-heeled shoes, so she looked smaller and more fragile than usual. When she noticed my presence in the doorway, she immediately squared her shoulders in pride and self-defense. I came up behind her, towering over her by nearly a foot, and began to massage her shoulders. A few seconds later, I heard her sniff. I reached around her to turn off the faucet, then took the now-full kettle from her hand and sat it in the sink. "Talk to me, Scully." She sighed and leaned back against me and I wrapped my arms around her, settling my chin on the top of her head. It took several moments for her to respond. "I'm a medical doctor. I knew the odds." She looked down at her hands resting on the edge of the counter. "But it didn't keep me from hoping." I dipped my head to speak quietly beside her ear. "You're human, Scully." It was the only answer I had to offer. She lifted her head and turned it to the side, tucking her nose under my jaw as if she was seeking shelter. I smelled her breath and her hair, two scents I will always associate with trust and intimacy. "I'm sorry." I could barely hear her whisper. "I shouldn't have involved you." "I would have been offended if you had asked someone else." I said this gently, but it was true nonetheless. She exhaled on a sigh and turned in my arms, wrapping her own underneath mine and linking them at my back. When she looked up at me, I was struck, as I always am, by how unearthly beautiful she is... an enigma made up of smooth, pale skin - huge, stormy eyes - eminently kissable lips drawn into the shape of a sad smile. "You know I would never have considered anyone else." Actually, I didn't know that. My ego appreciated the information while the psychologist in me balked at the codependent nature of our relationship. Mentally healthy or not, holding Scully was a rare treat I wasn't about to reject. I didn't see any brick walls anywhere, and if she was willing to accept my support and comfort, then I was going to provide it. Hell, I was going to provide it even if she wasn't willing. "I pictured him. A boy." Immediately I had a mental flash of a small boy, maybe five or six years old, with red hair, a spattering of freckles across his nose, ultra-blue eyes, and this oddly large nose in the middle of his face. "He had your brilliant mind... and my common sense." I raised my eyebrows in mock-indignation at her unsubtle dig. "Your build, my hair... your eyes..." She trailed off, her gaze tracing every detail of my face. I gave her a moment to look at her leisure, watching her expression for any sign of disgust or amusement. All I saw on her face was soft, female appreciation. My vision seemed to narrow to the point where she was all I could see, as if I was falling under a spell created by her nearness, her husky voice, and her hypnotizing gaze. I blinked a couple of times, struggling to remember why she was off limits. "And, uh..." I cleared my suddenly dry throat. "And your nose?" She breathed a half-laugh. "Someone else's nose." I altered my mental image to her specifications as I waited to see if she was finished with her description. She didn't say anything else. "Sounds like a great combination." Her lids lowered and raised in one of those slow blinks she has down to a fine art, and which never fails to remind me that she is, without a doubt, one hundred percent woman. Her eyes became shiny, a layer of moisture pooling in them which I know she thinks is a sign of weakness, and which I am sure is a sign that I am seeing the real Scully, up close and very personal. "He would have been beautiful," she said, her voice hitching mid- sentence and causing my heart to contract painfully. "I would have been showing by now." She averted her face, blinked rapidly a couple of times, and two perfect tears escaped to forge glistening trails down her cheeks. "I would have felt him move." Jesus. Scully's tears always make me feel a kind of helpless desperation. I was at the point where I was ready to say anything, do anything to take the pain from her eyes. I cradled her face in my hands and lowered my head to kiss a drop away from where it rested just to the side of her lips. "There are other ways, Scully. You just have to have faith." I sought the salty path on the other side of her mouth and kissed it away too, nuzzling her nose with mine when I was finished. I remained there, inhaling her shaky breath as if it was the source of her misery and I could make it all go away by taking it into my body. I felt her lips brush against mine, soft, open, a touch so light I thought I might have imagined it. The nature of our interaction suddenly took on a sharper, more physical aspect. Her lips were suspended a hair's breadth from mine, a nearly irresistible temptation. The temptation was too much for me to resist. I could feel her and taste her although our mouths weren't actually in contact. I closed the small distance between us, moving slowly, hesitantly, afraid that I had mistaken her intention or would scare her away. Her lips were parted and welcoming, familiar yet un-chartered, yielding and oh, so sweet. I was vaguely aware that one of my hands had tangled in the hair at the back of her head, gently pulling back so that her lips were tilted toward mine like an offering. I angled my mouth over hers and went on a treasure hunt, my tongue seeking and finding hers. I felt that first slow, smooth glide from my neck to my groin. Our mouths fused, tongues danced and tangled, breathing became harsh and uneven. My other hand found its way down her back and cupped her rear, pulling her up and against me tightly as I set out to learn all of her secrets, everything that was Scully, starting with her delicious mouth. She responded with characteristic generosity, allowing me to set the pace - slow and thorough. She didn't protest when I lifted her onto the edge of the sink and stepped between her thighs. She never broke stride when I slipped a hand under the hem of her t- shirt, wrapping my fingers around her midriff just below a breast, my thumb caressing the smooth skin right up to the edge of her bra. It was when that same hand made its way downward, fingers stealing into her waistband behind the button-fly of her jeans, the first button freeing from its hole with a sexy pop, that she exhaled a quick, surprised gasp. Cautiously, I raised my head an inch to look into her eyes. I saw desire there, and fear. She was offering herself to me and at the same time was afraid I would reject her. My conscience reminded me that she was feeling vulnerable, my body clamored that it had been six very long years since it had felt anything but the grip of my own right palm, and my heart piped in that if she was going to turn to anyone for this kind of comfort, I wanted it to be me. "It would be so easy to take what you're offering." I didn't recognize my own voice; it was so deep and hoarse. She was shaking, but she had enough courage to give me an honest, clear response. "I need you, Mulder." Damn. She knew the secret password. I had been barely treading the deep, turbulent waters of her gaze, and at her confession I felt myself slip under the surface. No air, no gravity, no sense of time or space. Just her and the promise of a fantasy realized. I cupped her face in my hands, caressing the velvet skin under her chin with my thumbs. "No regrets?" I saw and felt a shiver streak down her body as she echoed, "No regrets." So be it. That night would be for her. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, I would provide. We would deal with the consequences later. It was then that we probably should have had a discussion about protection, but I was incapable of such noble thoughts in the cloud of lust that had taken up residence in my head. I concentrated on making the all-important decision of whether to take her right there on the three-inch ledge upon which she was perched, or to test my endurance and control and try to make it to her bed. As usual, Scully had her own opinion. "Bedroom," she ordered, wrapping her legs around my hips. Looks like we're going for the gold, I thought as I swept her off the counter and headed that direction. XXXXX I laid her on the bed and removed her clothing slowly, carefully, with nervousness only a virgin or a person who has been celibate for over six years can appreciate. Her body was exquisite - lush and feminine, not perfect, and yet every small imperfection only made her more beautiful in my eyes. I felt intimately familiar with each scar marring her creamy skin. I memorized the size and location of each freckle I had never seen, the moon-shaped birthmark on her left hip, the texture and shape of the triangular patch of curls between her thighs. I took a mental snapshot of her stretched naked against the white cotton sheets, bare lips and straining nipples of the same shade of pink, a hint of gold nestled in the hollow of her throat, a lovely blush tinting her skin from forehead to breasts. She helped me undress and ran greedy hands over my body, igniting and soothing fires with demanding caresses that left me half-crazed and nearly begging for more. She looked right into my eyes as she wrapped her hand around my straining erection, causing me to groan in warning. "Do you mind if I touch you?" she asked, stroking her thumb lightly along the underside. Christ. How could something that felt so incredible be such torture at the same time? I couldn't give her an answer. I just closed my eyes and ground my teeth together, focusing all my energy on not erupting into her hand. She smoothed her fingers from base to tip, measuring me, getting acquainted, I suppose. Then, she repeated the movement, adding a squeeze along the way. She discovered a drop of liquid at the tip, her thumb spreading it and playing in it while the rest of her hand continued to explore. I had no idea Scully was so tactile, but I have to admit I was very, very grateful she is. It took less than a minute to realize I wasn't going to last long if she continued touching me, so I distracted her by kissing her. Eventually, her hand released me and splayed through my hair. I kissed a moist path to a breast, laving and nibbling and paying special attention to every sweet spot I discovered. I switched to the other breast, treating it to the same brand of worship. Her legs were restless, so I parted them with one of my own, my hand stealing down to the dark secrets hidden between them. She was hot and slick and very sensitive. She moaned my name, and I lifted my head so that I could see her face as I slowly ran a finger along one side of her swollen clit, then down the other side. Her hips lifted and followed my movements, trying to align my finger more directly. I let her squirm as I continued to tease her, her scent filling my head with images of replacing my finger with my tongue. I wanted to taste her, to know everything about her, but I also didn't want to make her uncomfortable and wasn't sure what her threshold was regarding that particular activity. "Mulder," she growled. Apparently she'd had enough of the teasing. I inserted my busy finger into her, closing my eyes to fully appreciate this initial feeling of being inside Scully. My thumb found her pouting center, finally giving it the attention it was begging for in small, controlled circles, and immediately her hips came off the bed. I continued manipulating her with my hand, purposely not quite satisfying her because I wanted her to ultimately come with me buried deep inside her. After several minutes, she whispered raggedly, "Please, Mulder." I removed my hand and brought it to my mouth, smelling and tasting her on my fingers, committing her flavor to memory. I linked our hands and placed them beside her head on the pillow, allowing my full weight to rest on her. Our height differences must be in our legs because our upper bodies aligned with mind-numbing precision. All my defenses were down; everything I felt for her was exposed in my eyes. My heart was beating so hard I was sure she could feel it against her chest. "If I have a heart attack in the middle of this, I want you to adopt my fish." She arched a brow and her eyes glittered with mischief. "If you have a heart attack in the middle of this, I'm flushing your fish down the toilet." God, I love it when she thinks she's in control. "Demanding looks good on you, Scully. It would look even better if you'd raise your knees." She complied, planting her feet near my hips, aligning my tip perfectly at her opening. By now, I was trembling with the effort to quell a fierce desire to forcefully bury myself inside her. I wanted to see her lose her famous control. I began to kiss her, invading her mouth, as I was about to invade her body. I entered her slowly, letting gravity do most of the work, drawing out the acute ecstasy of our first joining. My inner caveman reveled in the way she held her breath and arched beneath me as she took me in. We both went still when I had completely filled her, breaking the kiss but keeping our lips in contact. I was amazed that I could feel the staccato beat of her pulse both against my chest and surrounding the part of me buried to the hilt in her snug depths. When I felt her relax against me and around me, I began to move within her, brushing her moist, parted lips with my own and inhaling each gasp and sigh that she expelled. I discovered that she liked the sound of my voice, so I murmured words of praise to her, occasionally dipping into more carnal language when my baser nature slipped free of its tight reigns. She didn't seem to mind. To my surprise and delight, her own control began to falter. At some point, I released her hands and pulled one of her knees up higher to aid my quest to burrow ever deeper into her body. If I could have crawled under her skin, I'm sure I would have. If I'd had the freedom and the right to demand promises for the future from her, I would have done that too. I was completely captivated by her, willing to sell my soul as long as she never, ever made me stop making love to her. Her body began to tense and I knew her release was near. I watched with a predatory gaze as I urged her over her peak with not-so- gentle commands and a well-placed thumb. Her body pulled at mine while her throaty whimpers echoed in my head and branded themselves onto my memory for future haunting. I lost my bearings quickly, unable to hold back any longer, groaning harshly into the pillow beside her head as nature took over and my seed spewed forth into her in sharp bursts that I felt from my scalp to my toes. We remained there, in her bed, limbs tangled, rarely used muscles trembling in the aftermath of the most earth-shattering experience of my life. I'm thinking it was equally moving for Scully too. For the first time, I didn't feel the immediate necessity to get up and start cleaning up my mess. I had the perverse notion that what had happened between us was nature at its finest - perfect and sacred. We earned this, and there was no reason to start eradicating the evidence so soon. Besides, I liked knowing that even though I was no longer inside her, Scully had a reminder that I had been not too long ago. I did start to rise to shut down the apartment for the night, but the arm she had stretched across my ribs tightened. "Don't go," she protested drowsily. I kissed her temple. "I'm just going to turn out the lights." "'Kay." She released me, and when I returned to the bed she was nearly asleep. I joined her under the covers, spooning against her back and wrapping my arm protectively and possessively around her waist. Within minutes, she was asleep, her body warm and pliant against mine. Well, it was done, I thought. An act I had both longed for and fought against for seven and a half years had finally come to fruition. And under the guise of comfort sex. We would have to be very careful how we handled this. One wrong move and the most significant relationship of my life could be ruined. That thought had me tightening my arm around her and pressing a kiss into the curve of her shoulder. She stretched against me and mumbled my name in her sleep, bringing a rueful smile to my lips. It was going to be so hard to go on like nothing had happened, to spend every day with her knowing what she felt like, sounded like, how much incredible pleasure could be found within her body. But I would endure it willingly, without complaint. Our partnership, our friendship would always come first, and if that meant sacrificing physical needs, so be it. I left before dawn the next morning, unable to sleep, reluctant to tarnish our memories of our night together with an uncomfortable scene tacked onto the end. We haven't spoken of that night since. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX January 6, 2002 Southbound Train #112 I glance at my watch. I would have sworn at least twenty minutes had gone by since I last checked, but it's only eleven forty. Twenty minutes to go. I've noticed that when time is all that stands between Scully and me, my watch becomes my tormentor, my pot that won't boil. My reverie of our night together has combined forces with anticipation and a pervasive sense of dread to turn my stomach into what feels like a large, scalding lump of lava. My car-mates are maintaining status quo, naively unconcerned about the man in their midst with unseasonable beads of sweat on his forehead, the pallor of a plucked chicken, and a bulge in the side of his jacket which looks suspiciously like a concealed weapon. I wonder if they'd shit their pants if I pulled out my Gloc and shot a hole through the ceiling. If Scully is as smart as I think she is, William will not be at the depot. He's probably staying with that paragon of babysitters and the second loveliest woman I have ever had the pleasure to know, Maggie Scully. I wonder if Scully is still breastfeeding, and if so, whether or not she uses one of those pump things I read about in 'What to Expect the First Year'. I wonder if William sleeps through the night now, if he's crawling, if she shows him the pictures of me we took with her digital camera the day I left. The grainy printouts I took with me are wrinkled and flimsy from too much handling. The one I take out most often is of Scully in her rocking chair, William a small bundle of blue cotton and fine, reddish-brown hair against her chest. Morning light is slanting through the window illuminating Scully's face, which is bare of makeup and framed by hair still uncombed from a night of what seemed like constant feedings. She is looking at me through the lens of the camera, no annoyance that I have intruded on a quiet moment, but rather with a sad resignation that, once again, I would have to leave her. It's a Scully I have seen at least a hundred times, her soul bared in those impossibly blue eyes. Looking at that photo might be painful, but it makes me feel closer to her. It also reminds me of all that Scully has had to endure alone. Skinner doled out information in small doses about how she reacted when I was returned. He said he had never seen anyone fight the truth so hard, that her pregnancy was the only thing that kept her going. I'm grateful she had him to lean on, although I will always wonder what role John Doggett played in helping her recover. Quite frankly, I was a grade-A shithead those first few weeks out of the hospital. I didn't feel comfortable in my own apartment, which I can't believe Scully kept intact long after my funeral. I wasn't comfortable with Scully, whose pregnancy had me floundering for possible theories of origination. I wasn't even comfortable in my own skin. How she tolerated my ambivalence and tantrums, I'll never know. But she did, long enough for me to pull my head out of my ass and offer to take responsibility for the baby she was carrying. I still had questions - to be honest, I still *do* have questions - but regardless of how William was created, I decided about a month before his birth that she needed me by her side. And whatever Scully needs, I will eventually provide. I have another photo, one that usually causes me to smile. It is a close-up of William's face, slightly blurry because we didn't want to startle him with the flash. His eyes are open and mostly focused. He's looking to the right of the lens, toward the sound of his mother's soothing voice from where she stood at my side. I may be biased, but he really is a remarkably cute kid. And I admit I see both Scully and myself in him. I no longer doubt that we're his natural parents. My doubts are more along the lines of how, and why. The first time I saw him, Agent Reyes handed him to me at the compound in Georgia. My eyes had been locked on Scully, searching for signs of distress, noting abating pain, relief, and exhaustion in her features. Then, suddenly, my hands were full of a bloody, wrinkled mass wrapped in a white sheet. "Hold him while I get Dana ready," Agent Reyes ordered in a gentle but no nonsense tone. In the space of seven words, *it* became *him*. I wish I could say spontaneous bonding occurred, but it's difficult to bond with something that looks like a tumor Scully might extract during an autopsy. Minutes later, Scully and baby were hastily cleaned up and we were transported via helicopter to a hospital in Dalton, Georgia, kicking off the last three days I was allowed to spend with my other half and our son. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Spring 2001 Hamilton Medical Center Dalton, Georgia Scully and the baby were doing fine. The doctor wanted to keep them twenty-four hours for observation, and if they both were doing well after that interval, they could go home. Doggett and Skinner had flown in and the three of us along with Agent Reyes kept vigil outside Scully's room. I was a large, hovering column of nerves, unable to eat or sleep, uncertain of my new role, and incapable of remaining in one place longer than a few minutes. I alternated between pacing the hall and standing in the doorway to Scully's room, staring at her and the small bundle always in her arms or in the acrylic bed pushed right up next to her own. "Shouldn't you be passing out cigars?" Skinner asked from close behind me. I turned my head to regard him with a steady look, not really in the mood for a test of my manhood. "The kid bears a remarkable resemblance to you, Mulder. If you still have doubts, you know I'll have to kick your ass." He was serious. "Stand down, Walter. I have eyes." "Glad to hear it." Silence crackling with tension snapped between us and I had a sudden craving for a bag of sunflower seeds. "Why do I get the impression you're not exactly thrilled?" he said, his voice low enough that I could barely hear him. I matched his volume. "I am. I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to keep them safe." Skinner chewed on my statement for a minute, then looked around to be certain Agents Doggett and Reyes weren't within earshot. "You know, no one would blame you if the three of you just... disappeared." As if that thought hadn't occurred to me at least a hundred times in the past few hours. "They deserve better than that." He nodded agreement. "Then what's your plan?" "I don't have one yet. I'm finding it hard to think efficiently knowing Scully and I have just become parents." Skinner glanced through the doorway, seeing the same view I was currently admiring - the timeless tableau of a new mother holding her child to her breast. A few seconds went by, then he averted his head, looking like a man who had been caught peeping through his neighbor's window. "You're the luckiest bastard I've ever met," he stated flatly before walking down the corridor. I watched his retreat, the clap of his expensive loafers sounding loud and intrusive in the otherwise quiet environment. I shoved my hands into my pockets, being careful to not jingle keys or change, and allowed gravity to pull me to the side where I propped a shoulder against the doorframe. Scully's eyes met mine, full of love and gratitude and questions for which I had no answers. I remained there, standing and watching, her peace soothing my restless body, until long after the feeding was done and Scully and baby laid down for a nap. XXXXX I chartered the same helicopter and pilot to take us home the next day. The Gunmen met us at Scully's apartment and kept an eye on them while I went home to shower and change. When I returned and the Boys had left, Scully brought William to me, maternal pride softening her features and putting a lovely glow to her skin. This was only the second time I had held him. He was noticeably cleaner this time, and I am proud to say that a strange, sweet kind of bonding did occur, at least for me. I was out of my element, but I had the strength of Scully's confidence to ground me as I stepped awkwardly into my new role as someone's dad. I said something about possibilities and the truth we both know with typical Fox Mulder clarity. My words barely scratched the surface of what I was feeling, and Scully was reluctant to jump to conclusions based on half-sentences and meaningful looks. Finally, I gave up and kissed her, letting my actions say what my words could not. I think I got my point across. An hour later, William was hungry so she settled on the bed into a mound of pillows propped against the headboard. "Is there room for one more?" I asked from where I stood at the foot of the bed. "Of course." Sometimes my own perversions amaze even me. How I could get a thrill of anticipation at seeing Scully's breasts at a time like this was beyond me. But I did. My man-card is platinum. I sprawled beside her, head propped on a hand, and tried not to leer when a dark pink nipple emerged and disappeared behind William's frantically searching head. A grimace furrowed Scully's brow and my fantasies went flying out of my head. "Sore?" She focused on me, and her face visibly relaxed. "We're still learning." Okay, so I skipped through the technicalities of the breastfeeding section in my 'What to Expect' book. 'Still learning' is a phrase I can only pretend to comprehend. I decided it would be a good time to try out my still-rusty flirting skills. "You know, if you need someone to practice with while William is sleeping, I'd be happy to oblige." She smiled and saluted my offer with a very high brow. "I'm going to have my hands full with you, aren't I?" "God, I hope so." We settled into the relatively peaceful sounds of William's greedy slurps and occasional gasps for air. "Does it bother you that I'm watching?" "No. Just don't get disgusted if we make a mess." A mess? "I leak." Fantasies always seem to sneak in at the least opportune times. I poked the tip of my index finger into one of William's palms and he reflexively curled his fingers around mine. We were partners in crime. "Did you hear that, Will? There's plenty for everyone. I'll share if you will." Scully bit her lip to keep from laughing. I waved William's hand around, still attached to my finger. "Look at that grip, Scully. He's going to be a natural at slapping a piece of horsehide with a stick." "He gets it from his mother," she said smugly. Yeah, and his mother got it from his father. In more ways than one. She switched William to her other breast, pretending not to notice my fascination with the transparent drop that immediately appeared on her abandoned nipple. Breast milk is clear? Did I miss a memo? When all was settled and William was happily draining her other breast, it occurred to me that I wanted to be there for every feeding. I didn't want to be the guy who comes for an hour every day, then returns to his bachelor pad and misses twenty-three hours worth of rocking and cooing, baths and flashes of nipple. "So, are you going to let me stay the night?" I asked with all the nonchalance I could muster. Her eyes went wide and she swallowed. "You know I can't..." Okay, so I did read *those* technicalities. "Relax, Scully. That's not what I'm asking." She searched my face for a moment and I donned my most innocent expression. Finally, she said, "I'd like that." It was that simple. Three little words, and I had a new home. XXXXX Here's a little known fact: newborns don't sleep very much. At least our newborn didn't. It seemed he woke every hour on the hour for a diaper change and a feeding that lasted forty-five minutes. Scully has the patience of Job and I took my cues from her, gathering the various paraphernalia she would need for each session, while she gathered William from his bassinet next to the bed. The routine was repeated countless times during the night and throughout the next day and a half. We had ample time to talk, and it became apparent early on that Scully was worried about our safety. She knew I had the Boys keeping an eye on her building and street, but it didn't seem to alleviate her concern. It was on that first morning I was there that Scully told me she thought I should leave. Not just her apartment, but leave town. She brought up the valid points that Billy Miles and his group of alien zombies had left her and William alone in Georgia, that 'They' still had an agenda and needed to be stopped, and that she was afraid that if she and William left town with me, 'They' would track us through the chip in her neck. Still, I was willing to risk it. The idea of abandoning her yet again was abhorrent to me. Then she put her request to me in a way she knew I couldn't refuse. "We need you alive, Mulder. I can't lose you again." I didn't like it, but I agreed to go on the condition that I would hunt Billy Miles' group down and find a way to stop them. It all sounds like a bad science fiction film, but the threat they pose is what keeps Scully and me apart. Mrs. Scully came over shortly after our talk, so I made a polite exit and enlisted the Gunmen's help in moving my furniture to storage and draining and transporting my aquarium to Scully's place. Skinner kept an eye on her apartment while we were out. We didn't know how long I would be gone, so it seemed pointless to continue lining my landlord's pockets while my apartment became a dust shrine. To thank the Boys, I gave them my prized video collection. I've never seen Frohike so emotional. If it had been left up to me, I would have put off my departure indefinitely, but Scully was determined. We decided I would leave the following morning. That night, during the times we were able to lie down and steal a small amount of rest, we slept with the familiarity of well- established lovers. Either I was pressed against her, or she was pressed against me throughout the night. I know that if she had been physically able, we would have made love. The next morning, Scully rose before I did, showering and dressing quietly while her two adoring admirers got some much-needed rest in her bedroom. I woke when William did and stumbled into the shower while Scully went through the whole changing/feeding routine. Somewhere in there, she found the time to make oatmeal. If I hadn't already been head over heels for her, the oatmeal would have clinched it. When I entered the kitchen to find her stirring brown sugar into my bowl, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "Scully..." I had to clear my throat. "Are you aware your breasts have doubled in size?" She tucked her chin down and smiled in that cute manner she has when she is surprised by my audacity. "My milk came in." "So the breast fairy visited you last night, huh?" She rolled her eyes at me. I approached her with caution, coming up behind her and resting my chin on her shoulder. I looked down with rapt attention at what had to be the finest example of womanhood I've ever had the privilege of witnessing. "You're staring, Mulder." "It's like driving by a car accident. I can't drag my eyes away." She swung a dishtowel at my head and stepped out of my reach. "Behave and eat your oatmeal." "Where's William?" "Sleeping." "I'm going to wake him up and tell him his mommy won't let me play with her." "You do and you'll be the one to explain to him why it's not time to eat." I ran a hand over my face, the only way I could force my eyes away from her chest. Christ, I thought. She's beautiful, giving, smells like a dream, has lovely breasts, which are now ripe and begging for attention... and I have to leave her. Responsibility is hell. I ate like a good boy, then we sat on the couch and I presented her with our new email accounts, passwords, and instructions on how I would return if she needed me. "Access this account from a public place, preferably no where near home or work. I think we should have a code... some way of knowing the emails are legitimate." "Like what?" "Something that won't be obvious, and that we wouldn't ordinarily put into an email to each other." She pondered my suggestion. "You could call me 'Dana'." For me, the name 'Dana' contains a wealth of intimate implications. "Do you want me to call you 'Dana'?" "I wouldn't mind. But I kind of like the way you say 'Scully'." My lips twitched into a playful smile. "A forger might call you 'Dana'. How does 'Dearest Dana' sound?" She fluttered her eyelashes. "Okay, and I'll sign mine 'Forever yours'." "'Forever yours' isn't something you might say to me?" "I don't know. You'd have to stick around longer than forty-eight hours to find out." Touche. Her eyes were shining with amusement, and I wanted to pull her onto my lap and beg her to let me stay. Unfortunately, we had more business to discuss for the begging commenced. "Do you need any money?" I asked, willing to sign over my banking and investment accounts at the slightest hint she might need them. "No. Do you?" "No. You know my resources better than I do. If you need something, anything, you'll let me know?" She nodded stiffly, and her eyes began to tear up. I think it was just then sinking in for both of us what an impact this was going to have on our lives. "I'm going to miss you," she said quietly, her lids lowering on a patented languid blink. I gave in to the urge to pull her onto my lap and held her until it was time for William's next meal. XXXXX We took pictures, she packed me a lunch, and we procrastinated as long as we could, but eventually the moment came when we both knew it was time for me to go. I went to say goodbye to William first, who was sleeping in his bassinet. I smoothed a palm over his tuft of hair and he stirred slightly. "Hey, Slugger. You're the man of the house for a while. Take good care of your mom, and try to start sleeping through the night, okay? And if you see any men sniffing around, tell them she's taken." My throat felt two sizes too small and I had to force words past a lump of emotion. "And don't grow up too fast while I'm gone. Wait for me to come home and we'll grow up together." I leaned over to kiss the top of his head, then led Scully into the living room by the door, where my luggage waited. "I'll be back. I promise." She nodded, her eyes swimming and breaking my heart. I wrapped my arms around her and enclosed her in a long, clinging hug. Several minutes went by before I heard her husky voice against my neck. "I love you." I slowly pulled my head away in surprise, and our eyes met and held. I tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "I know. I love you too." I kissed her wavering smile, then opened the door, picked up my suitcases, and walked away from my heart and our child. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX January 6, 2002 Southbound Train #112 An announcement just came on over the intercom, waking my fellow travelers and informing us we would be arriving at our destination in five minutes. It's eleven fifty-three. The people around me squirm in their seats, stuffing books and newspapers into bags, several women and a few men running their hands over their hair, one woman checking her lipstick. Nervous Guy looks down at his shirt and notices a wet spot from his drool and runs a hand across his chin to clean up what he can. I know I look like fresh dog shit. I hope it's true that love is blind. In the best of all possible worlds, Scully will be waiting for me at the depot alone, allowing us to get reacquainted right there on the platform. Then, when I am finally able to pry my mouth away from hers, we'll retrieve William, go back to her apartment, and maybe, just maybe, she'll let me make love to her for the second time since we met. A guy can dream, can't he? Unfortunately, it's more likely that she'll have Skinner or Agent Doggett there with her, nullifying our freedom to display how much we have missed each other. They'll probably want me to meet with Mystery Man for the big information exchange, at which point the fireworks will start. Lies will be exposed, lives will be endangered, and I'll end up escaping into the night. I can see this happening so clearly, so effortlessly, because we have been through similar scenarios dozens of times before. The minutes have ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, but finally, thank God, the train starts to slow down. I look out the window and see lights ahead of us. My heart is suddenly pounding from excitement. In less than a minute, I should be able to see Scully. We continue to decelerate, the lighted platform ahead just a stone's throw away. I think I hear a noise, more like just the vibration from a noise, as if something has hit the train or vice versa. Then we start to speed up. What the hell is going on? Shit, slow down. I've got to get off this train. I stand up as we pick up speed and whirr past the platform. I think I saw a blur that could have been Scully, but I can't be sure. The people around me begin to verbally complain. "Stop the train!" I yell toward the engine, but I know the engineer can't hear me. I look out the windows and see darkness again. Shit. Fuck. I sit back down in my seat, disappointment killing all the adrenaline from my earlier excitement. I am suspicious of the sound I heard and the mystery of why we missed our stop, but I'm too dejected right now to launch an investigation. Several minutes later, I notice there is a man walking through the car two ahead of ours - I can see him through the windows of the doors. He is bald and has a mustache and his stride is purposeful. I'm positive he's looking straight at me and realize the fireworks have started earlier than I expected. Plan A was to make love to Scully, then have a productive meeting with Mystery Man. Plan B was to make love to Scully, then fight the bad guys, if that was the situation. Plan C was for scenarios such as this one - fight the bad guys, possibly never get to see Scully. Needless to say, I loathe Plan C. It involves the one questionable and untested theory I have regarding destroying these creatures - that there is *something* in *some* rocks in *some* locations that *may* break down their bodies at the cellular level. See how pathetic I am without Scully's strict rationalism and science? I've only seen it happen once, just a few days ago, when one of Billy Miles' cohorts discovered I was watching their camp and came after me, forcing me to try to lose him in the rocky hills nearby. He pursued me to the base of a hill, and I started climbing. I turned around to discern how far he was behind me just in time to see him drop to his knees, let out a nasty groan, and fly through the air to smash against the rocks below me. Actually, he didn't smash so much as disintegrate. I took some of the powder that was left behind, and some rocks to be analyzed. The powder was unidentifiable, and the rocks were common for that area, except they had a particularly high level of an iron compound called Magnetite, which can be found in various locales and has been identified in meteors. Apparently, it has magnetic properties, hence the name. I had studied the route of this train and noted that there is a quarry not far from here. I didn't have time to find out if there is Magnetite in high concentrations there, and I really have no idea if that is even the substance that destroyed the guy who chased me into the cave, but it's all I've got. That quarry is Plan C. Bald Guy is now in the car ahead of mine, opening the door and reaching for the one leading to my car. I make sure his eyes are on me, then exit the rear door of my car and spare only a split- second to look around for an idea of where we might be before I jump to the side into a ditch. Immediately I am up and running toward a large clearing and several huge mounds of rocks, which I will have to assume is Manville Quarry. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Manville Quarry 1:17 a.m. It seemed like it took forever to get to here, even at a full run. My heart is once again on overdrive and adrenaline is flooding my system. Nothing like running for your life to get the juices flowing. Bald Guy has indeed followed me. Only time will tell if that is a blessing or a curse. Currently, I am hiding behind several boulders, giving Baldy every opportunity to walk into his doom on his own so I don't have to be bait. He is pacing very slowly back and forth along the bottom of the pit, his eyes scanning everything, looking for me. We hear a car at the top of the ridge, and both of us look up to see three people appear, looking down on us but probably not seeing us. I recognize Scully instantly and am relatively sure the other two are Agents Doggett and Reyes. Jesus. They can't come down here. I don't want Scully anywhere near here. She gets back into the car and starts driving toward the pit entrance. I make the decision to be bait after all, step out of my hiding place and start running out in the open, across the bottom of the pit. Doggett calls out to me but I ignore him. I stop to look behind me and realize Baldy hasn't followed me. I don't see him anywhere. Doggett and Reyes start making their way down the slope. A stream of curses weaves through my head as I regain cover and start looking for Scully. I follow the sound of the car engine and the huge clouds of dust, pulling my shirt up to cover my nose. The car engine is turned off and I stop and crouch down, trying to see through the haze. A form is heading my direction. It's Bald Guy, walking unhurriedly toward a warehouse. I follow him at a distance, staying low and close to anything I can blend into. As I enter the building, I move to a window and see that he has cornered Scully just outside. My overtaxed heart stops beating and I palm my weapon as I step out of the warehouse and move behind a large piece of equipment, preparing to do whatever it takes to give her time to get away. I hear him say that either William or I must die. She starts yelling at him as I take aim at his head, intent on blowing it off. That ought to buy her at least a minute or two. As I am about to squeeze the trigger, he drops to his knees. Seconds later, he is drawn forcefully to the wall of rock, knocking Scully to the ground on the way, and is gone. Scully scrambles to her feet and runs off before I can remove my finger from the trigger. My heart starts to beat again for the first time in what seems like an hour. She'll be back in a few minutes to collect samples, as soon as she finds the other agents, who should be hung for allowing her to come down here alone. They will tell her they've seen me, and she will launch a search. I run a trembling hand over my face and lean back against the machinery. It only takes a few seconds to decide it would be best if I just left. Talking to her, being close to her, will make it nearly impossible to leave again. And I do have to leave again. 'They' have had ample opportunity to get to William, but they haven't yet because it's me they really want. I remove from my wallet the dog-eared picture, the one of her and William in the rocking chair. It's the only thing I have to let her know I was here. I unfold it and place it beside the silver remains of Bald Guy, anchoring it with a fist-sized rock. Then I retreat to the warehouse where I can watch her for a few minutes from a hiding spot by a window. Ten minutes later, she is back with Doggett and Reyes. She walks slower than they do, her eyes scanning everywhere, looking for me. She leads the other two agents to the spot on the wall where Bald Guy became powder. She squats down, and when she rises to stand again, she is holding the picture. She stares at it for a second or two, then her head snaps up, her gaze aimed directly at the warehouse, and a shiver slips down my back because it appears she's looking right at me. She leaves the other two agents to gather evidence and slowly enters the building. The lights are on and she stops about ten feet away from where I am hiding. I can see her clearly, smell her perfume. She looks... breathtaking. Her eyes are tired and a fine coating of dust covers her from head to foot, but, Jesus, she looks beautiful. If we didn't have William, I would scoop her up and carry her out of here and we'd live the rest of our days in a cabin in the woods somewhere in B.F.E., Canada. "Mulder?" she says in a hushed voice, her eyes flitting from shadow to shadow. I don't answer, although I want to very badly. She turns her head so that I am seeing her profile. Her eyes fill with tears. "Are you here?" It's better this way, Scully. Trust me. A minute goes by, during which she continues to look around for me. Then her head lowers and she fingers a curled corner of the photograph. "I need to see you." Her choked plea has me nearly giving in. I make a silent promise to her that I will work harder, faster, so that I can come home soon. She sniffs, the sound loud and poignant in the silence we are sharing, and I have to blink back a few tears of my own. I know that someday soon I will receive a message from her, telling me that 'They' have taken William. 'They' will hold him in exchange for me, forcing her to choose between William and myself. It's inevitable. She will be unwilling to make that choice, but I will make it for her. If she needs me to be the sacrificial lamb so that she and William will be safe, I will do it without hesitation. Her needs, *their* needs, will always come before my own. Eventually, she nods a couple of times, accepting that I am either not here, or that I'm not going to acknowledge my presence. She pulls a pen from her pocket, moves to a worktable nearby, and writes something on the back of the printout. She leaves the paper resting on the table, sliding a tool over it to hold it down. The other two agents appear at the doorway, ready to leave. They both look at her with understanding and protectiveness, and I mentally amend their hanging punishment to time served. They flank her on either side and the three of them walk the length of the warehouse and exit the other end. I remain where I am, partly because I am afraid they might come back, and partly because I don't trust my legs to support me after those few moments spent alone with Scully. Minutes later, I hear the sound of gravel under tires and know they are going home. I rise out of my place of hiding, drawn to the table across the room. I move the tool out of the way and pick up the photo to read her note, written in her familiar handwriting on the back. The message is short and simple, and shoots a white-hot arrow straight to my heart: "I miss you too. Forever yours, Dana." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX End: Southbound Train, by Rafferty General Author Notes: * I'm assuming that Mulder still feels the need to carry a weapon even though he no longer works for the FBI. A friend of mine owns a Gloc 9mm, which feels amazingly powerful in the hand, so I decided Mulder might personally own one of these babies. * I am no mineralogist. I just did a teensy bit of research on the web, enough to come up with a substance that actually has iron in it and would sound good on paper. Take the whole Magnetite thing with about 500 grains of salt. * Contained in this story was my attempt to come up with an excuse, any excuse at all, that could possibly justify the whole 'Dearest Dana'/'Forever yours' thing, which I personally find barf-worthy. Hope it didn't suck you right out of the story, as it did me when watching this episode.