Part Two

Title:  Nothing Else Important Happened Today
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Summary:  the second instalment of my personal 
revision of Season 9.  Sequel to Nothing Important 
Happened. 
Category:  MSR, A
Rating:  no naughty words, nudity, or spit up.
Disclaimer:  I'm veering way off course with this 
one, but frankly, it's what I wish we could have 
seen.  Still, no copyright infringement intended.
Archive:  yes
Warning:  anyone who really liked Season 9 would 
do better finding another story.  This one bursts all 
the bubbles.  However, if you hated the last two 
seasons, you might just find this story to your 
liking.  You have been warned.
feedback to me vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com 

Nothing Else Important Happened
by Vickie Moseley

One week from the end of Existence

John Doggett knocked on the door to Dana Scully's 
apartment, fearing the worst.  He was somewhat 
relieved when he heard movement inside and made 
a mental note to not let his imagination get the 
better of him.  When the door opened, however, he 
was in for a shock.

"Mrs. Scully?" he blurted out.

The woman before him bore little resemblance to 
the calm woman he'd met in the hospital during 
Scully's pregnancy.  The woman standing in the 
doorway looking slightly irritated at his intrusion 
was red-eyed with tears still staining her cheeks.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" she asked tersely.  
Upon looking at his face again she nodded.  "Oh, 
I'm sorry -- Agent, um, Doggett, isn't it?  I'm just . . 
. what can I do for you?"

"Well, I just stopped by . . . I tried to reach Dana by 
phone and she didn't answer.  I wanted to make sure 
everything was all right," he said, licking his lips.

"No.  Everything is _not_ all right," Mrs. Scully 
exclaimed and fresh tears slid from her lashes.  "I'm 
sorry, I'm being rude.  Please, come in."  She stood 
aside and let him enter the apartment.  

It was completely empty.

Doggett drew in a harsh breath.  "Oh, God."

"I talked to her just two days ago.  She knew her 
brothers were coming in for the christening.  She 
said _nothing_ about this," Maggie bit out angrily.  

Doggett was at a loss.  "Did you talk to her 
neighbors?"

"I've only been here a few minutes.  I tried to call 
her, too.  I've left several messages.  Her phone and 
answering machine are still connected.  But there is 
nothing else here."

"I'll go down and check with the manager.  We'll 
get to the bottom of this," Doggett said, laying a 
reassuring hand on Maggie's shoulder.  "Don't you 
worry.  We'll find her and the baby."

Maggie nodded tearfully.  "I'm going to call her 
brothers.  They'll want to be here."

He didn't bother with the elevator, choosing to take 
the stairs two at a time, berating himself the entire 
distance.  He knew she was acting suspicious when 
they last talked.  

Mulder.  That had to be it.  She went after Mulder.  
But that was insane!  She had a newborn to think 
about.  This was a scenario that the brightest minds 
had never considered -- her taking off with her 
lover, even at the risk of their baby.

He thought he'd made headway in the arena.  After 
Mulder's little 'Easter Sunday' the two former 
partners had been inseparable.  But then Mulder had 
pissed Scully off by following a lead and breaking 
into a government facility, much to Doggett's 
delight, and the 'man from the dead' had gone back 
to his own apartment to lick his wounds.  After the 
incident on the oil rig and his departure from the 
Bureau, it had all seemed to being back on track.  
Sure, Mulder had hung around her a lot afterwards.  
Still, as Scully said her goodbyes as she left for 
maternity leave, Doggett had sensed a longing in 
her that Mulder didn't seem able to fill.  Mulder was 
slowly being moved out of the picture, leaving a 
nice void and John Doggett knew just how to rectify 
the problem.  Time, all he needed was time -- and 
Mulder out of the picture.  That was supposedly in 
the works.  Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and 
men . . .

Before opening the door that led to the first floor, he 
pulled out his cell phone and punched in a few 
numbers.  He had to wait for the line to be picked 
up and as always, there was no voice to answer him.  
He was pretty sure it was just a machine, taking 
messages that were picked up regularly.  "This is 
Doggett.  Scully's gone, she's taken the baby.  The 
plan has gone to shit.  Repeat: it's all a cluster-fuck.  
I need instructions and I need them now!  I'll be 
waiting." 

Upstairs in Scully's old apartment, Maggie roamed 
the empty rooms searching.  When the thought 
finally hit her, she almost smacked herself for her 
stupidity.  She hurried into the kitchen and looked 
in the cupboard above the sink.  There she found a 
white envelope addressed to simply 'Mom'.

She scanned the few lines and bit her lip.  There 
was no real information, just words of comfort.  
What was most important was the entreaty not to 
tell anyone.  To just let go.  It was heartbreaking, 
but Maggie understood -- and remembered.

It had been a night not long after Fox had gone 
missing.  Dana had come to her, as she had many, 
many years before -- bedraggled and desolate.  
They sat at the kitchen table, two women missing 
their other halves -- Maggie for more years than she 
wanted to count, Dana for just weeks.  At the time 
Maggie realized the best counsel she could give her 
daughter was an open mind and a listening ear.  

That night Dana told Maggie some of what she'd 
only suspected.  That was the night that Dana had 
admitted to her pregnancy.  She refused to identify 
the father, but she didn't need to speak the words for 
Maggie to know the truth.  Just one look in her 
daughter's forsaken eyes told her what she needed 
to know.

After many tears Dana had sworn that she would 
never leave without telling her mother.  That if no 
word was left, to take it to mean the worst and not 
spend years wondering.  She'd even devised a 
method of conveying information -- a note, more 
than likely written in haste, left only for her mother 
in the kitchen cabinets.

The very note Maggie now held in her trembling 
hands.

Maggie heard footsteps and jammed the paper into 
her jacket pocket.  She schooled her expression and 
turned to see Agent Doggett had come back from 
talking with the manager.

"He says she's paid through the end of her lease.  
That the movers came yesterday afternoon," 
Doggett said angrily.

"Yes, I can see that.  Did he speak with the movers?  
Was there a destination for the furniture?"

"Yeah," Doggett said with disgust.  "St. Martin de 
Porres Center, in Baltimore.  Apparently it's a resale 
-- "

"I'm familiar with it, Agent Doggett.  I take all my 
old clothes there," Maggie said with a tight smile.  
"Agent Doggett, it appears that Dana wasn't 
kidnapped.  She left on her own."

"I don't know, Mrs. Scully.  I think this is all too 
pat.  I don't think she left of her own will.  Or at 
least I don't think she had all the information she 
needed to make a good decision."

Maggie itched to show him the letter in her pocket, 
but years of seeing Dana's paranoia had affected 
her, too.  "Agent Doggett.  We need to let this be.  
No good can come from trying to find them."

"How can you say that, Mrs. Scully?  How can you 
think running off with a newborn is a good idea?  
What about that baby?"  He stopped suddenly, 
realizing that he might have overstepped his 
bounds.  "Forgive me.  I had a son -- I would 
protect him with my life if I could have him back.  I 
just can't understand why she would risk William's 
safety because Mulder fed her a pack of nonsense.  
But then, I don't know the whole story."

Maggie felt his eyes on her and her hand tightened 
around the letter before she moved her hand from 
her pocket -- empty.  "I really don't think any of us 
know the whole story, Agent Doggett.  But I can tell 
you this: Dana prayed and prayed for that baby.  
She would move heaven and earth to keep him safe.  
And I've always trusted my daughter's judgment.  
I'm not about to second-guess her at this point.  
Now, she obviously left in a hurry, for whatever 
reason.  That reason is hers and hers alone.  If we 
respect Dana at all, we just have to leave it at that."

"Even if she's put herself in danger?  Even if the 
man she's following isn't the man she believes him 
to be?"  His voice was stern, his expression, deadly.

"I don't know what you mean," Maggie replied, 
shaken.

"I mean -- no one knows where Fox Mulder was for 
three months.  When he was returned, he was 
clinically dead -- dead enough for your daughter to 
sign his death certificate.  I agree that your daughter 
is a good judge of character, but what does that say 
about the person she's with?   To me, it raises a 
whole lot of questions."

"You think Fox . . . that it wasn't really Fox you 
pulled out of that grave?  That it was . . . someone 
else?" Maggie asked, shaking her head.

"There are people out to harm your daughter, Mrs. 
Scully.  You know that as well as I do.  I'm just 
being suspicious of everyone right now.  Your 
daughter told me something when we were first 
partnered -- trust no one.  I think that would extend 
to anyone who supposedly came back from the 
dead."

Maggie blanched at his words.  "I have to go.  My 
sons are at home and I need to tell them about 
Dana."

"I don't plan on letting this thing drop, Mrs. Scully.  
I believe Dana is in danger, whether she knows it or 
not."

Maggie walked past him and had her hand on the 
door.  She turned to face him.  "I can't stop you, 
Agent Doggett.  But I won't help you, either.  I see 
no reason for us to meet again." 

Once in her car, Maggie withdrew the crumpled 
paper from her pocket.  She read it again, especially 
the last line.  "I know you'll be lighting a candle for 
us at daily Mass."  She closed her eyes and tore the 
letter into tiny pieces, scattering them a few pieces 
at a time at every stop sign and stoplight as she 
made her way back to Baltimore. 

Day four in North Carolina

Scully awoke slowly, luxuriating in the soft cotton 
sheets and the faint smell of coffee.  She smiled as 
she thought of how thoroughly Mulder was spoiling 
her.  She rolled over and looked at the bedside 
clock, noticing at the same time that she had that 
heavy feeling in her breasts that meant someone 
should be calling out his hunger.  She flipped off 
the covers in search of her men.

The bassinet was empty, which didn't surprise her.  
Mulder had taken to enlisting William's 'assistance' 
in his morning rituals.  Actually, Mulder was 
usually up by the time William started to stir.  For 
some reason the baby didn't seem overly upset at 
waiting a little while for breakfast, as long as he 
was near his father.  

The last couple of mornings, Mulder would change 
William's diaper in the nursery and dress the baby 
in a fresh layette.  The two would sneak upstairs 
and start coffee, Mulder doing most of the work.  
Then they would sneak back down stairs and 
Mulder explained when questioned that he was 
teaching their two-week-old child how to use the 
internet.  

Scully pondered aloud if it was wise to subject their 
son to some of the sites his father used to frequent, 
but Mulder assured her they were catching up on 
current events.  He would show William those 
'other' sites when he was old enough to enjoy them -
- at college.

When she found the family room where the 
computer was located empty, she began to wonder 
what was going on.  She padded up the steps, 
almost afraid she would find the main floor 
deserted, too.  It was, but the door to the deck was 
cracked open and she saw her partner slowly pacing 
the length near the railing.  He turned when he 
heard the door opening and she saw their son 
cradled in his arms.

"Hey," she called out, stepping outside with them.  
"What are my early birds doing out here?"

"Morning," Mulder replied in that soft voice he'd 
perfected in the last four days.  "We started our 
classes in nature lovin' and tree huggin' today."

She reached up and gave Mulder a kiss on his 
stubbled cheek, then eased the baby out of his arms.  
William immediately started rooting at her 
nightgown.  It was warm on the deck, so she settled 
in the loveseat and started to nurse him.  "Mulder, 
you are not, nor have you ever been a 'nature lovin' 
tree hugger'," she accused.

"Oh, ye of little knowledge and short memory.  I 
told you my dad and I were Indian Guides.  Just 
because we were huggin' sea oats and the 
occasional scrub pine does not completely 
undermine the experience."

"May I just point out the many 'experiences' we've 
shared in the great out of doors," she countered, one 
eyebrow cocked in amusement.  "Timber country in 
Washington State, the great Apalachicola National 
Forest in Florida, oh, and we can't forget the desert 
outside Farmington, New Mexico -- "

"Those were cases, Scully.  Cases don't count," he 
shot back, leaning against the railing.  He took in a 
deep breath and went back to admiring the scenery.  
"It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

She nodded readily.  "Perfect.  Quiet, peaceful.  
Perfect.  Mom would love this place -- "  She 
caught herself abruptly.

"She's not dead, Scully.  She's still alive.  We're still 
alive.  We'll get word to her."

"It's too dangerous, Mulder," she sighed, rubbing 
William's head.  

"I'll find a way," he told her.  "I'm going in to make 
breakfast.  Then maybe we need to sit down and 
start doing some long range planning."

She grimaced but nodded.  As he left, she stared out 
into the bright morning sunshine and allowed a 
single tear to moisten her cheek.

FBI Headquarters
Washington DC
same day
   
Doggett sat stiffly outside Skinner's office.  
Skinner's assistant glanced over at the agent from 
time to time and shrugged.  Finally, Skinner stuck 
his head out the door.

"Agent Doggett.  I can see you now."  The Assistant 
Director stepped back to his desk and Doggett 
followed him, standing instead of taking one of the 
two chairs.  Skinner settled in his seat and looked 
up at Doggett.  "What did you want to see me 
about?"

"Mulder is missing, Scully has moved out of her 
apartment -- she's taken the baby and her mother 
doesn't even know where she's gone.  I wanted to 
know if you know anything about this, sir?"

Skinner regarded Doggett carefully and then shook 
his head.  "John, I don't know what to tell you.  I 
haven't heard from Agent Scully since I stopped by 
to see her and the baby at the hospital.  As far as I 
know she's on Family Leave and will remain on that 
status for at least two months.  As for Mulder, he no 
longer works for the FBI, as you are well aware.  
Where he goes is none of our concern."

"I think he's coerced her into running off with him," 
Doggett blurted out.  "I think he's leading her into 
danger."

Skinner rose and took a step closer, putting his hand 
on Doggett's shoulder.  "John, I know you've had 
feelings for Scully . . . "

"This isn't about my feelings, sir!  This is about her 
well-being and the safety of her baby!"

Skinner dropped his hand and sighed.  "Why would 
you think they aren't safe?"

"I went looking for Mulder a few days ago.  He was 
gone.  His apartment was cleared out.  I went over 
to Scully's immediately, thinking she might have 
gone too.  But at the time she was still there.  She 
told me Mulder left because they'd been told he was 
in danger.  When I called her yesterday I didn't get 
an answer.  I went by there last night and found her 
mother.  Scully's apartment was cleared out.  All the 
furnishings had been donated to charity.  Her 
manager said she left no forwarding address.  I 
think she's with him and that puts her in danger!"

Skinner nodded.  "Then we have to respect that.  
John, I know it's hard, believe me -- "

"This isn't a schoolboy crush, goddamnit!  I'm 
worried about her and that baby, even if Mulder 
isn't!"  

The Assistant Director's expression hardened.  
"Agent Doggett, unless Mrs. Scully or some 
member of the Scully family reports her as missing, 
we have to assume that no foul play is involved.  
The very fact that her furniture was moved out and 
her apartment manager notified tells me this was 
Scully's own doing.  She is an adult and if she wants 
to disappear, that is her prerogative and her 
business.  Drop this inquiry immediately.  It is not a 
Bureau matter."  

"Was it a Bureau matter to hide her in Georgia for 
her to give birth to that baby?" Doggett shot back.

"Agent Doggett, I will let that slide because I know 
the stress we've all been under recently.  But I know 
Scully.  I've known her for far longer than you have.  
I trust her judgment.  I suggest you do the same.  
Now, unless you have something that is under the 
jurisdiction of the Bureau to discuss, I think we are 
finished.  Please make sure to close the door behind 
you on your way out."

Doggett stormed out of the office and was halfway 
to the elevator when his cell phone rang.  Angrily 
he pulled it out of his pocket and answered.  

He closed his eyes when he heard Monica's voice.  
Cover, he had to keep his cover.  It would take time, 
but eventually he would find Scully -- and deal with 
Mulder once and for all.  But now, he had to 
proceed with his other assignment, work on the X 
files.  "Yes, Monica, what have you got?"  

By the time the elevator doors opened, John 
Doggett was off on another X files case.  Finding 
Dana Scully would have to wait another day.

St. Clare Catholic Church
Baltimore, MD
Two days later

Maggie Scully walked back from the altar after 
communion, silently praying.  As she slid into the 
pew, she noticed a Franciscan monk was now 
seated behind her, reading his Office.  She nodded 
once to the man and went back to her prayers.  
When the Mass ended and the priest left the altar, 
she rose to go but a hand stopped her.  

"Mrs. Scully.  Just a moment of your time," 
whispered the monk.  "Go light a candle under the 
statue of St. Patrick," he added and nodded again.  

Something about him seemed familiar and she 
sensed no danger in his posture or his words.  
Quietly she made her way around the pews to the 
small side chapel where a statute of St. Patrick 
stood surrounded by votive candles.  Dropping a 
dollar in the black metal collection box, she lit one 
of the candles.  The monk joined her.

"My name is John Byers.  I'm a friend of Dana and 
Mulder's.  I have news."

Maggie swallowed hard and then glanced over at 
the strange man.  She recognized him now -- he had 
come to Dana's apartment with two other men one 
night after William was born.  "How is she?  Are 
they safe?" she pleaded.

Reaching into his long brown sleeve, Byers pulled 
out a folded sheet of copy paper.  "They are safe.  
They're together.  I'll get word to you as often as I 
can," he vowed.  He stood up and put a hand on her 
shoulder.   "You can't tell anyone," he warned.  
"Not even your sons."

With tears in her eyes, she nodded.  "I understand.  
Thank you, John.  Thank you so much."

Byers smiled.  "It might not be me next time.  Do 
you remember my friends?"

"Yes," she told him with a watery smile.  "I 
remember."

"Good.  Have a good day, Mrs. Scully."  She didn't 
see him leave; she was too intent on memorizing the 
paper in her hand.  It was Dana, holding William.  
The baby had grown, even in the short time since 
she'd seen him last.  Dana looked relaxed, happy, as 
she held her baby boy.  Fox had his arm around 
both of them, but he was a little blurred in the 
picture.  He must have set a timer on the camera so 
that they would all be in the frame.  They looked 
wonderful.  She couldn't see much of the 
background -- they were outdoors, on a porch 
perhaps?  

She ran her finger over her daughter's face and then 
smiled as she did the same to her grandson, 
committing each feature to memory.  With a sigh of 
resignation, she held the corner of the paper over 
the flame of the candle she'd just lit and watched as 
the paper burned until nothing remained but a 
thimble full of brown ash.  Crossing herself, she 
stepped away from the little chapel and out of the 
church into the bright morning sunshine. 

Office of the Lone Gun Men
two weeks past the Existence kiss . . .

When the door alarm sounded, Frohike shot a look 
at the surveillance monitor.  He wasn't at all 
surprised to see the person standing on their 
doorstep.

"It's Doggett," he said, rising to answer the 
hammering blows to their metal door.

"What took him so long?" Langly asked, never 
looking up from his computer screen.

"Frohike, wait," Byers called out.  When the 
shortest member of the trio stopped and turned 
expectantly, Byers licked his lips, trying to think of 
how to phrase his concerns.  "We have to be 
careful," he finally choked out.

"Careful?  Why?  It's Doggett!" Langly said with a 
sneer.

"I know, I know, but really -- what do we know 
about him?" Byers asked anxiously. 

"Well, we know everything we dug up when he first 
pissed off Scully back 10 months ago," Langly 
answered, hitting a few keystrokes and pulling up a 
rather large file.

"And you know as well as I do that we could have 
created a cover just as airtight -- that we've done so 
on several occasions," the trim man shot back.

"What are you saying, Byers.  Spit it out!" Frohike 
demanded.

"I just don't want to give away too much 
information to him, that's all.  Mulder said we have 
to keep this to ourselves.  I know Doggett, he'll try 
to find out where they are -- that's a given.  But why 
is he coming to us now?  They've been gone two 
weeks already."

"Yeah, that is kinda strange," Langly agreed.

"So, we don't tell him anything he can use," Frohike 
agreed, rolling his eyes.  "Now, can I answer the 
door before he breaks his fist?"

Doggett looked a little on the harried side.  He 
pushed past Frohike and stormed into the office.  "I 
need to find Mulder, it's important!" he said without 
greeting.

Byers looked over at Langly.  "We don't know how 
to do that," he answered cautiously.

"C'mon.  I could tell it was your work.  Having 
Scully's furniture sent to her mother's favorite 
charity was a nice touch, by the way," he said with a 
tilt of his head.  "But I need to find them.  Their 
lives are in danger."

Frohike looked at the others.  "What do you mean?" 
he asked, crossing his arms.

"Kersh wants Mulder dead.  He's wanted him dead 
since he was taken a year ago.  He thought he had 
his way when we buried him.  Digging him up and 
having him come around so publicly made it hard 
for Kersh to make his move.  But now -- he's out to 
get him, again.  He's going to use all the resources 
of the Bureau to find him, and then some."

Langly looked nervously at his two friends, but 
Byers held Doggett's gaze.  "Are you saying that 
Kersh is involved in the conspiracy?" the tidy man 
asked.

"Yes!  Hell, yes!  Ok, I admit I didn't believe all that 
alien crap before, but something is goin' on -- I saw 
it on that oilrig.  Kersh is neck deep in it.  Now, he's 
not going to stop until he finds Mulder, and if 
Scully and the baby are around -- I don't think he'll 
care if they get cut down for standing in his way."  
He stared at each man.  "If you know where they 
are, you need to tell me."

"We don't know," Byers said evenly.  "We helped 
them get out, that much is true.  But we have no 
way of finding them now."

"How are they getting money?  I know Mulder 
would make sure they were able to access his 
funds," Doggett countered.

Langly blanched and scowled.  "What do you know 
about Mulder's funds?" he demanded.

"Guys, guys, we're all on the same side!" Doggett 
exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.  "Mulder 
told me himself he's got a nice little nest egg."

"Well, then, you know that it's hidden in several 
different accounts across the country," Byers lied 
calmly with a tilt of his head.  "They could be 
anywhere now.  They probably aren't even in the 
States anymore."

"I suppose they all had passports -- what names 
were used?"

"We had several available, including the most 
common names in several nationalities.  It would be 
impossible to trace all of them," Frohike said with a 
shrug. He'd caught Byers' lie and added more fuel 
to it. 

Doggett sighed deeply.  "Damn.  All right.  Well, if 
you do hear from them, tell them to get in touch 
with me as soon as possible. I want to help them, 
but I can't if they keep me in the dark."

As soon as the door shut, Frohike was throwing all 
the locks.  He found his two friends at the kitchen 
table.  "Well, that was interesting," he said glumly.

"I have a really bad feeling about this," Byers said 
with a shake of his head.  

"Hey, he saved Scully's life, at least, it seemed that's 
what he was doing," Langly interjected.

"He has the hots for her, Blondie," Frohike growled.  
"Did you see the way he looked at her during the 
funeral?  Mulder's coffin wasn't even covered and 
he was already sniffing around!"

"But he did help get her out of town to have the 
baby -- " Langly tried again.  His heart wasn't in it, 
but he still felt the need to play Devil's Advocate -- 
or in this case, Doggett's advocate.

"He had Reyes take her to a ghost town!  She gave 
birth in a damned hell hole," Frohike hissed.  "And 
what about all the creepie-crawlies that showed up?  
He didn't even tell Mulder where he could find her.  
That doesn't sound like a Knight in Shining Armor 
to me."

"He could be right, you know.  Kersh has had it out 
for Mulder for a long time.  Remember what they 
went through when they reported directly to 
Kersh?" Byers said thoughtfully.

"So he's using an easy lie to cover up his real 
reasons," Frohike countered.  "It's natural to blame 
this on Kersh -- he's the most likely suspect.  But 
that doesn't mean we should tell Doggett where he 
can find Mulder and Scully."

"It's the baby," Langly said suddenly, his eyes 
glowing with revelation.  "They want the baby!"

"With Mulder's repeated exposure to the black 
cancer, not to mention Scully's exposure and 
branched DNA -- William could be the only human 
born with a natural immunity to the alien virus," 
Byers jumped in quickly.

"So it's not Mulder he's worried about," Frohike 
said with a grim expression.  "It's the baby."

"And Scully," Langly said with a nod.  "You're 
absolutely right about the fact that he had it bad for 
Scully.  Maybe that's his reward if he finds them."

"Finds them and kills Mulder -- and former G-
man'll be dead for good this time," Frohike 
concluded.  "We have to get word to them.  They 
need to be extra careful."

"William is only two weeks old -- Scully shouldn't 
be traveling again so soon," Byers objected.

Frohike sighed.  "We have to let them decide that.  
Mulder isn't stupid -- he'll do the right thing.  He's 
there, we aren't.  But we have to let him know 
what's going down.  Otherwise, they're just as much 
sitting ducks there as they were here.  But first we 
need to do a little background search ourselves -- 
see if Kersh really is the problem."

"Think Skinner would like some Philly 
cheesesteaks?" Langly asked with a shrug.

"Let's make it tonight," Byers said with a nod.  "I'll 
go make the call."

The other two men sat silent, each lost in his 
thoughts and prayers for the little family.

Offices of the Lone Gunmen

Walter Skinner still wasn't comfortable in the little 
rat hole occupied by the three conspiracy theorists, 
but he'd stopped caring if anyone saw him walk into 
the building.  He figured that bridge had been 
burned behind him long ago.

Knocking on the door was an affair to remember.  
He knew they had security cameras hidden in the 
dilapidated guttering.  He also knew they had more 
locks on their door than a middle-aged spinster.  So 
he waited patiently, heard the tumblers whir and 
click, heard the deadbolt release and finally the 
chain rattle.  Shouldn't be long now, he mused in 
resentful amusement.

Finally the door swung open and the ring leader, 
Frohike, stuck his head out into the dark night.  
"Anybody follow you?" Frohike barked as he pulled 
Skinner into the 'inner sanctum' of too much 
electronics and the faint aroma of chipotle.

"Just George Tenet, but I think I lost him on the 
bridge," Skinner deadpanned.  "What do you three 
want?"

The other two looked to their shorter companion.  
"We think something's going on and we need your 
help."

"Does this have something to do with Mulder and 
Scully both cleaning out their apartments and 
leaving with no explanation?"

"Yeah, but let's eat and talk," Frohike said.

Over beers and cheese steak sandwiches, Skinner 
listened as Frohike told him about the recent 
meeting with Doggett.  "So, do you have a way to 
contact them?" he asked pointedly after the 
discussion turned to what to do.

Frohike looked around the table.  Langly shrugged.  
Byers' expression remained closed.  "That's a 
matter of opinion," Frohike finally hedged.

Skinner sighed.  He really didn't want to get into 
this.  If Mulder had disappeared, and according to 
the manager at his condo that was the case, he did it 
with good reason.  If he took Scully and the baby -- 
well, that was natural, too.  They were a family, 
regardless of what anyone else thought on the 
matter.  But if he'd left and not informed Skinner of 
their plans, something was definitely up and they 
were playing their hand very close to the chest.  The 
only people Mulder had ever trusted, besides 
Scully, were sitting before him at a battered up 
Formica table chugging down Sam Adams light and 
looking at him expectantly.

"Doggett came to me yesterday very upset.  He 
thinks Mulder is leading Scully and the baby into 
danger.  He didn't mention the Kersh connection at 
the time."

"You were in the FBI headquarters.  He probably 
figured your office was bugged," Langly said 
casually.

Skinner nodded and then looked away.  "He has . . . 
well, he hardly made his feelings for Scully a 
secret," the AD said with a shrug.

"So, do you think Kersh is out to get Mulder at all 
costs?  Is that why they ran?" Byers asked.

"I don't know.  I can do some checking.  If it 
appears that Kersh is expending Bureau resources to 
find them, they should be made aware of what 
they're up against," he said, looking pointedly at the 
three men in turn.  "Maybe they can be convinced to 
leave the country."

"Let us know what you dig up," Frohike said, rising 
to clear the table.  "Byers, why don't you see AD 
Skinner to the door."

North Carolina
mid afternoon

William was sleeping, Dana was dozing on the 
chaise on the deck and Mulder was searching the 
internet.  One of his more obscure email addresses 
came up with a message that hadn't automatically 
been delegated to the spam folder.  Palomar 
Observatory was the subject line.  He clicked on it.

The message was lengthy, longer than they had 
agreed, but the information was vital.  He sat there 
for several minutes, rereading the message, trying to 
find some hole he could poke in their logic.  

It was upsetting, to say the least.  The deception ran 
deep and dark, suddenly clouding everything that 
had taken place in the last year.  He heaved a sigh 
and quickly jotted down a reply -- message received 
-- and printed out the message before shutting down 
the computer.  The hardest part, aside from his own 
anger and dismay, was yet to come.  Now he had to 
convince Scully. 

He was making a light dinner when she woke up 
from her nap on the deck.  A serious case of bed 
head and bleary eyes spoke of her need for rest, 
even though she'd been doing very little of the 
housework except for taking care of the baby.  He 
cringed as she patted his arm and whispered a 
hoarse "takin' a shower" before heading down the 
stairs.  

This was going to kill her.  No, she was much 
stronger than that.  It would make her angry.  She'd 
want to get to the bottom of this, want to fight it 
against all odds.  She wasn't going to listen to 
reason at first -- she would want to charge off into 
the night.  The last thing she would want to do 
would be run again.  He closed his eyes, pulling on 
all his inner resources to word this problem 
correctly so that they didn't waste time trying to find 
the same page.  Time was of the essence.  

"William's still sleeping?" she asked, as she came 
back up the stairs, her damp hair hanging in loose 
curls.  He had to remember to tell her he loved her 
longer hair sometime.

"Uh, yeah.  I gave him a bottle about an hour ago 
and he went right back down.  He seemed to take it 
pretty well, considering he doesn't get the same 
view from me," Mulder replied, forcing a light tone 
to his voice that he didn't feel.

"Men," she muttered and rolled her eyes.  "I am his 
mother you know," she tossed out as she dug 
through the refrigerator for the left over salad from 
lunch.

"Let's eat," he said, nodding toward the table.

After the sandwiches and salad were cleared and the 
dishes in the dishwasher, Mulder took her hand and 
led her back out on the deck.  "I spent the whole day 
here," she smiled looking out over the landscape of 
trees and clouds.  

"I need to talk to you and I just thought this was a 
good place," he admitted.  "Hang on a minute, I 
need to get something."  He hurried back in the 
cabin and retrieved the printed copy of the message 
he'd received from Frohike earlier.  He went back 
out to her and handed it to her without a word.

She scanned the note and then looked at him.  She 
read the note again but she was immediately 
shaking her head.  "Mulder, these are lies.  All lies."  
She tossed the paper on the coffee table and stood 
up, her back to him.  "I can't believe you did this.  I 
thought you understood.  Why do I have to keep 
reassuring you?"

It was definitely not the reaction he'd worried about, 
but it seemed to him to be even worse.  "Scully, 
what are you talking about?"

She turned to face him and leaned against the 
railing, her arms crossed.  "Doggett.  You've been 
insanely jealous of him since -- since you came 
back to me, Mulder.  And I don't know what do to 
about it.  But dragging the guys in on it -- that's just 
low!"

"Whoa, there, just a minute," he retorted, rising 
from the loveseat and walking over next to her at 
the railing.  "I didn't 'drag' anybody into this.  I 
haven't communicated with the guys since we got 
here.  This was something _they_ found out and felt 
it was important enough to risk contacting us.  And 
to be perfectly honest, I agree."

She glared at him and then at the paper ruffling on 
the table with the slight breeze.  "You honestly 
believe that John Doggett is working for the 
conspiracy -- for the same men who took me and 
later gave me cancer?" she asked, her voice low and 
angry.  "Mulder, they died at El Rico.  I autopsied 
their bodies.  This is absurd!"

"Cancerman didn't die there, Scully -- we know that 
for a fact.  But more to the point -- how much do 
you really know about Doggett before he came on 
board the Bureau's 'supposed' search for me?  It's 
my understanding that he tried to convince you I 
was sleeping my way through the support staff!"

"He was trying to trip me up.  He thought he could 
get information on you that way," she said with a 
shake of her head.

"I was a kidnap victim at the time, at least as far as 
the Bureau was concerned.  Shouldn't they have 
been looking into the people who took me?"

"You weren't taken by people, Mulder.  Or are we 
changing THAT story, too?"

He was getting angry and he didn't want to be 
angry.  There wasn't time to be angry so he forced 
himself to calm down.  "Scully, please listen to me."

"Not if it's more lies, Mulder.  I will not stand here 
and degrade a man who isn't present to defend 
himself."  She stormed off into the cabin, leaving 
him on the deck alone. 

He followed hot on her heels, latching onto her arm.  
"Scully, please, you have to listen."

The look on her face was hard as rock.  "Like you 
listened to me about Diana?" she spat out.

"Diana?  What does Diana . . . "  It dawned on him 
what she was talking about -- the events leading up 
to El Rico and the dead bodies.  "Scully, when you 
came to me with the information about Diana in 
Europe and the MUFON members, yeah, I was an 
asshole.  I didn't want to believe it was true.  But I 
went immediately to search her apartment to see if 
you might have been right."

"Oh, you thought she'd just write all that up in a 
journal she kept on her nightstand?" Scully sneered.

"I found nothing to support your claim, that's true.  
And then Cancerman showed up -- "

"At her apartment -- with the excuse that he was 
looking for his son.  And you believed him.  Mulder 
how blind can you be?  He wasn't there looking for 
Jeffrey, he was there to meet Diana!  So he sold you 
a bill of goods about colonization coming that night.  
You not only believed her, you believed _him_ over 
me!"

"Scully, it wasn't like that.  I didn't believe her over 
you, or him over you for that matter.  But I couldn't 
believe she would betray me . . . "  He stopped 
abruptly and closed his eyes.  "You did have 
feelings for Doggett.  Not at first, maybe you didn't 
even realize it."  He dropped to the futon, shaken.

Scully, however, was not willing to concede his 
point.  "Don't you dare psychoanalyze me, you son 
of a bitch," she growled.  "Not when you're in such 
need of it yourself!"

"Scully, I don't want to fight.  There isn't time for 
this," he said, heartbroken that the argument had 
taken such a hurtful turn -- that the message had 
even resulted in an argument.

"Maybe it isn't me that wants to run away, Mulder.  
Maybe it's you."  She turned on her heel and 
stomped off to the stairs to go down to their 
bedroom where she slammed the door shut hard 
enough to shake the cabin. 

He stood there for a moment, grasping for any 
reasonable line of thought that would make her see.  
Realizing she wasn't going to listen to reason, he 
walked slowly into the cabin and sunk down onto 
the futon.  

Were they this screwed up?  The last year, his 
abduction and burial -- it had caused a fissure to 
grow.  Scully had buried him, had she moved on in 
three short months?  Was it that easy for her to let 
him go?  He'd clung to the hope of finding 
Samantha for the span of two decades and more.  
He let his head drop to the back of the cushion and 
closed his eyes.  He was still there an hour later 
when he heard the stairs to the first floor creak.

Slowly, he raised his head and opened his eyes.  She 
was red-eyed, standing before him.   "Hi," he said 
quietly.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, nodding to the place 
next to him on the futon.

"I must warn you, I seem to have a repelling effect 
tonight," he quipped, patting the cushion.  

"That's OK, I seem to be pretty good at pushing 
people away, too."  She sank down and hesitantly 
snuggled closer to him.  He immediately wrapped 
his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.  

"I'm sorry," they said in unison.  She smiled at him 
and ducked her head.  He placed his chin on her 
crown.

"What just happened, Scully?  I'm really confused at 
the moment."

"I think . . . I think we're dealing with things we 
haven't even begun to realize we need to deal with," 
she said and then chuckled.  "Not to mention -- "

"Hormones are a bitch?" he offered lightly.  He was 
relieved at her soft chuckle.

"Boy, if you weren't confused about our relationship 
before . . . " she sighed.

"No, I think I understand.  And for the record -- I 
did not believe Diana over you -- ever.  I'm sorry, 
more sorry than I could ever say if I gave you that 
impression.  I just . . . it was just so hard for me to 
believe that she was  . . . that she would betray me . 
. . "

She took his hand and kissed the knuckles before 
twining their fingers and placing their joined hands 
on her lap.  "Mulder, please.  I know that.  I do.  
And I'm sorry.  I'm sorry that I thought -- "

"But in a lot of ways, Scully, the analogy works," 
he interrupted.  When she balked, he kissed her 
forehead, silencing her.  "Hear me out.  I didn't want 
to believe that Diana would betray me.  Not because 
I was still in love with her -- but because I had been 
in love with her long ago.  I couldn't believe that the 
woman she had been would turn and do something 
so -- so incredibly evil to someone she'd said she 
loved."  He was quiet for a moment, letting his 
words soak in.  "And I think maybe you're 
experiencing that same disbelief," he added in a 
rough whisper.

"Mulder, I do not, nor have I ever loved John D--"

He stopped her with a finger to her lips.  "I'm not 
talking love, Scully.  You placed your trust in him."  
At her emphatic disavowal, shaking her head with 
tears in her eyes, he continued.  "Scully, you had to 
trust him.  He was your only hope of finding me."

She was crying in earnest now, clinging to him as 
her emotions battered them both.  "I didn't at first.  I 
didn't trust him at all.  He lied to me; he said 
horrible things about you.  He tried to make me 
think you were doing things behind my back -- "

"What things?" he murmured into her hair.

"Your . . . Mulder, your brain!  I saw the medical 
records, the trips to North Carolina, the tombstone 
with your name and the year 2000 -- "

He gave her a perplexed look.  "Scully, what are 
you talking about?  What medical records?  As for 
the trips to Raleigh, Mom wanted to be buried there, 
it was in her will.  I made arrangements for her 
stone, and then I decided to add one with Sam's 
name.  I was considering bringing Dad down too 
but I decided to simply put second stone with Sam's 
name in the Boston cemetery instead.  Are you 
talking about that?"

She pushed away from him, sitting up straight.  
"Mulder, tell me the truth -- did you or did you not 
come to find out that you had a neurological 
abnormality that was killing you -- that you had 
only a few short months to live?"

He looked at her in shock.  "What?"

"I saw the medical charts.  I saw the progression of 
the disease!"

"Scully, when I was in Asheville Medical Center, 
didn't they have to do a CT scan to determine if all 
the deep suction had damaged my vocal chords?" he 
asked with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"Yes, of course -- they did a full head and neck . . .  
Oh my God!"

He smiled as her hand flew up to cover her 
astonishment.  "I forgot about those scans!   We had 
a complete set of scans done and it was for soft 
tissue.  The charts I got from Doggett showed a 
mass that would have been impossible to miss in 
Asheville!" 

He sighed in relief.  Maybe she was finally getting 
it.  "And this tombstone?  What tombstone?  Mom's 
marker was just with her name on it and then I 
ordered one for Sam, but Mom's was placed before 
I went to Oregon."

She was glaring off into space, growing indignant at 
the way she'd been played.  "It was a large stone, 
with your whole family listed.  You were last -- 
1961 to 2000."  She stood up, pacing the room.  
"The car rental receipts -- I never really looked at 
them.  When was there a weekend after we came 
back from Asheville that we weren't together?"

"After Asheville, none of them.  Before Asheville -- 
there was the one when _you_ took off," he said 
pointedly.

"Let's not get into that now, shall we?" she asked 
with a tip of her head.  "So the car rentals were 
bogus, the medical records were bogus and the 
brain -- "

"Is that what you were talking about when I was 
still in the hospital?" he blurted out abruptly.  "You 
said something about a neurological disorder and to 
tell you the truth, I was so busy putting one foot in 
front of the other to get back to the bed, I didn't give 
it a second thought.  That was about this brain 
thing?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, it was," she said, turning to face him.

"Why would he want you to think I only had 
months to live?"   Mulder rubbed his forehead and 
chewed on his lip.  "What possible purpose would 
that serve?"

"To make me trust him.  To make me believe that 
you were hiding something from me, something you 
didn't want to tell me because you didn't want to 
hurt me.  By that time he knew we were in a 
relationship, I'm sure he knew all about us -- he'd 
probably even interviewed our neighbors to find out 
how often we stayed with each other.  And I did 
nothing to dispel that theory.  Mulder, when he tried 
to tell me you were sleeping around, I threw water 
in his face."

"You go girl!" Mulder interjected.

"He tapped my phone the same day.  And then he 
found me in your apartment, asleep . . ."

"Aw, Scully," he said sadly.  "I'm sor--"

"No, Mulder, I'm fitting pieces together now.  
Apologize later," she ordered. "He put the fish food 
in your drawer!"

"What?"

"The fish food!  Mulder, you always keep the fish 
food on the shelf above the tank.  But that night, 
when I went to feed the fish -- he knew the food 
was in the top desk drawer.  How would he know 
that unless he put it there?"  She sat down heavily 
on the futon, still staring into space.  "Your receipts 
file!" she said in disgust.

"Scully, you're thinking too fast now.  Help me 
catch up!"

"Mulder, remember when we had that problem after 
your hospitalization in Bermuda and I made you 
start keeping a file of all your medical receipts?"

"The one I thought was stupid because we have 
managed care and I don't get bills?" he asked, arms 
crossed.

"Yes, that one.  Well, those receipts also chronicle 
your medical history -- IF you know how to read 
them.  Doggett was obviously in your desk; he put 
your fish food there.  He was digging for 
information.  He found your records and then he or 
someone working with him 'doctored' up those 
dummy records using your actual information.  
They would have known all about your neurological 
problems from a year and a half ago." 

"So, I hate to stop this amazing flow of logic, but do 
you believe what the guys are telling us now?" he 
asked timidly.

"That son of a bitch!  All that time, making me 
think he cared about me, making me think all his 
actions were out of concern -- "

"Scully, I think he really does care about you.  Just 
not in the nice, platonic way you imagined."

She rolled her eyes.  "Mulder, love is blind -- but 
for most of the time I worked with Agent Doggett, I 
was decidedly pregnant with another man's child. "

He scooted over and pulled her to his side.  "You 
mean to tell me that you don't think it's remotely 
plausible that someone might think you're hot?"

That got him the smile he had been hoping for, but 
she quickly turned serious again.  "Mulder, if 
Doggett truly is dirty, he's going to move heaven 
and earth to find us," she said anxiously.

"I know.  I just didn't want to leave here yet," he 
sighed.  "You're still so tired and Will is so little -- "

"Do you think we should travel separately?  Make it 
harder to find us all?" she asked.

"No, I hate that idea.  We leave together or we stay 
here together.  I'm not going through that again.  
Besides, we're just another couple with a baby.  
We'll go somewhere that we'll blend in."

"William's a little young for Disney World, 
Mulder," she joked.

"Well, as much as I can't wait to take him to the 
magic kingdom, I had some place entirely different 
in mind.  But first I have to ask you, have you ever 
wanted to test the theory that blondes have more 
fun?"

to be continued.