Flight into Egypt 7:  Going Home

Author:  Vickie Moseley

             Going Home:  Chapter 7 Not What She Expected

Crystal City Place

June 7, 2005

7:30 pm

She parked in the visitor's space for Skinner's apartment, just a few spaces over from Mulder's rental.  It took all her effort to drag herself and her duffle bag out of the car.  Traffic on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge had been a nightmare, as usual, but more than that was causing her exhaustion.  She hadn't slept the night before and was still struggling with emotional upheaval. 

She juggled her keys as she walked down the hallway.  What was she going to say to him?  She'd seen his face as he drove away.  He hadn't looked angry, but he had every right to be.  He looked sad and . . . disappointed.  When confronted with her own lie, she'd let him take the brunt of it.  She was angry with herself, she didn't blame him if he was angry with her for waiting until he'd been gone a night before she would stand up to her brother. 

Not to mention he probably wouldn't be happy when she arrived alone.  She hadn't consulted him on leaving the kids at the beach.  Not that she didn't relish spending time alone with her partner (angry or not), it was just that they never went anywhere without the kids, well, almost never.  The only people they trusted with their children were the Hawthornes, and never for overnight.  But this was her family, she argued internally.  Yeah, the same family that practically disowned her for loving her partner.  She got the image of a cat chasing its tail.  No matter what his mood, she would talk to him, make it right.  Nothing else mattered but that they were on the same page. 

She unlocked the door to the apartment, calling out to him.  "Mulder?"  Silence answered her.  Frowning, she walked through the empty apartment, dropping her duffle in the bedroom they shared.  He'd been there the night before.  The bed was unmade and his clothes were on the floor.  She found a clean pair of shorts and clean tee shirt lying on the bed, hastily folded.  His sandals, the pair he'd lived in since warm weather had arrived, were tucked under the edge of the bed skirt.  What the hell had he worn to meet Skinner, she asked herself. 

He'd gone out to dinner, she decided.  It was entirely possible that Skinner and Kim had invited him out to eat, since he was in the city alone.  That alternately warmed her heart and froze it.  He shouldn't have been here by himself.  She should have been with him.  But beating herself up over it wouldn't change the past.  All she could do was hope to make it better in the future. 

Scully wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat.  Amazingly, the refrigerator was stocked, including 2 percent milk and apple juice.  She smiled; he knew they were coming home.  At least he didn't think they'd abandoned him.  She found her favorite lunchmeat, thin sliced turkey breast, in the meat drawer and made a sandwich for her dinner. 

There were boxes on the table, so she had to move some things aside to make room.  As she ate, she looked at the writing on the side.  Her mother's handwriting, in china pencil, just as she'd marked all the boxes in every move the Scully family had made through the years.  She bit her lip as she realized what was in the boxes.  Her things, his things.  All the pieces of their lives that they'd left behind on that one dark night in June three years ago.  Dropping her half eaten sandwich to the plate, she pulled the closest box toward her and peered inside. 

Her desk items stared up at her.  Her drawer organizer, neatly wrapped in clear plastic, the pencils, pens and paperclips still in their proper compartments.  Her address book, very handy now that she would probably start sending Christmas cards to old friends again after a three-year absence.  Photo albums made the bottom layer. 

She pulled them out, brushing her hand across the leather.  Opening one of the albums, her throat tightened and tears blurred her vision.  She remembered this album.  She had made it for William.  It was pictures of his father, so that the little boy would know the man who'd given him life. 

Mulder at a crime scene, staring hard at the ground.  Mulder in the office, feet on the desk, giving her a 'don't you dare' look as she snapped the picture.  Some pictures of the two of them, taken by crime scene photographers.  She remembered asking for them, just to keep the picture out of the water cooler gossip mills.  Pictures of the two of them that Langly or Frohike had taken when the two agents had visited the Gunmen.  

She stopped turning the pages at one picture.  It was an 8 by 10, it took up the page, black and white.  Mulder was standing on a street corner, looking off into the distance, thinking.  She ran her finger over the plastic, tracing his jaw, his forehead.  She loved this man.  She loved him more than she had ever realized. 

The last three years and the nine before that, she'd known her place.  Her place was at his side.  For the first few years, she felt the need to protect him, while he carried on his quest.  Sancho to his Quixote.  She'd been sent to spy on him, she was as aware of that as he was from the start, but she had no intentions of being a spy.  When she saw his nobility, his honesty, his integrity; she knew he needed her as a buffer from the powers that were out to destroy him, whatever the reason. 

With her own abduction and with the loss of Melissa, she took his quest on as her own.  No longer were they hero and sidekick, now they were partners in crime.  She smiled at that thought.  She had felt like a criminal when they'd returned from Antarctica to find their work handed off to other agents.  No, not just other agents -- Diana Fowley and Jeffrey Spender.  Scully shuddered in revulsion.  No matter that the woman had died almost six year previous, she still got a lump in her stomach at the mere thought of Diana. 

Jealousy.  She could finally allow herself to look at her feelings without the pressures of a strictly work partnership.  She hated Diana on several levels, not the least of which was because Scully was certain of Diana's duplicitous nature.  But overriding all of that, Scully was jealous that Mulder had trusted the other woman.  Trust was something she'd had to earn, and she had over years of partnership.  To see him blindly trust someone who was so obviously not working in his best interest infuriated Scully.  There were times when she didn't want to just scratch out Diana's eyes, she wanted to rip Mulder's arms off and stuff them down his throat. 

Shaking her head, she laughed.  What a picture!  Years later and she still could get her hackles up over it.  But in some ways, Diana had ultimately given her life to ensure Mulder survived.  She redeemed herself at the last moment.  Scully would forever be grateful for that.  But it didn't mean she wasn't just slightly pleased that the bitch was dead. 

Love, jealousy, trust, misunderstandings.  Life, death, burials and births.  They'd gone through it all and come out all the stronger.  Scully had seen marriages break up over far less. 

Another album hidden behind one of the boxes caught her eye.  She picked it up, recognizing almost immediately.  The Father's Day present she never got to give.  Again the tears caused her vision to waver, but she gently turned the pages, remembering their son, their first miracle together.  She ached to give Mulder those memories.  

But if the album was out on the table, he must have found it.  It hit her like a freight train; he'd found the album.  For a moment, that thought dismayed her.  She'd wanted to present it to him, as it should be given, a cherished gift.  To have him stumble on it with no preparation -- 

The little velvet bag slid out from between two pages.  She picked it up gingerly; as if she was afraid of the secrets it held.  Biting her lip, she pulled open the silk chords holding it shut and upended the contents into her hand. 

A perfect diamond ring landed in her palm, followed shortly by a slip of a receipt. 

She stopped breathing.  This was too much.  What had he done, had he gone out and bought this today?  Her anger was warring with her underlying confusion.  She laid the velvet pouch on the table, putting the ring on top of it.  With shaking fingers she opened the receipt to find the date. 

Oh my God was the first thought to whiz through her brain.  It wasn't the current date at all.  He had purchased the ring -- 

The date finally settled in her brain and this times the tears sprang forth with no possible hindrance.  He'd bought her an engagement ring long before they'd even become intimate.  He'd bought the ring just days after her remission.  And at the time, she'd thought the chip in the back of her neck was his only declaration of undying devotion.   

A thousand little moments crowded into her mind.  'Marry me,' said to her while she was trying to find a rational explanation for a little girl's murderous doll.  'You're my one in five billion,' rasped to her from a bed in a psychiatric ward.  'I owe you everything, Scully and you owe me nothing,' said in an anguished voice in a dingy hallway.  'I love you,' coming from lips just recently blue from lack of oxygen and the effects of near drowning.  'You are my constant, my touchstone," said with a tear choked voice from a battered soul.  

All those moments, and hundreds just like them, all that time he held this ring, hidden, buried in his apartment and his heart.  He'd broached the subject a hundred times and each time she'd ignored what he was saying.  Of course, he could have come right out and said the words, handed her the ring, but her Mulder, the man she'd given her heart to years before, was too insecure for that.  His fear of rejection held him in check. 

Silently she slipped the ring on her finger, where an engagement ring was supposed to be worn.  It fit perfectly, as she knew it would.  Her heart clenched and tears flowed freely.  When she heard the key in the door, she startled.  Ripping the ring from her finger, she stuffed it and the receipt in the bag, concealing them in the pages of the album and hiding the album in one of the boxes.  She didn't want him to know she'd found it.  Not yet. 

When he opened the door, Mulder sensed movement in the apartment.  The hairs on the back of his neck lifted and he automatically reached for his weapon, which would have been on his hip in earlier days.  He grabbed thin air and sighed.  OK, fists would just have to do, and the element of surprise.  It had been quite a while since he'd had to think on his feet in a dangerous situation.  He considered going back out in the hall, as he should as a private citizen.  Nah, he hadn't been that domesticated.  He stepped forward toward the kitchen where he heard shuffling and bumping -- 

"Scully!  For God's sakes -- you trying to kill me?" he yelled at her.  She turned and he got a good look at her tear-streaked face.  "Scully, baby, what's wrong, what's the matter?" he pleaded immediately, opening his arms. 

It took only a couple of steps but it felt like she'd run all night.  She grabbed him tightly and pillowed her cheek against his chest where she could listen to his rapid heartbeat.  She couldn't talk, she wasn't going to move, she was right where she wanted to be, safe in his arms, him safe in her arms. 

"Scully, hey, love, what's the matter?  Is it one of the babies?  What's happened?  Please, you're scaring me, tell me what's wrong," he begged of her. 

That forced her into action.  She pulled away and grabbed his face in both hands, pulling it down for a scorching kiss.  When they needed air, she released him, smiling up at him through her tears.  "No, nothing's wrong.  I just missed you." 

He chuckled at her and leaned down for another kiss.  "Remind me to stay away for a day again sometime," he teased, but she would have none of it. 

"No, not ever.  Never are we going to sleep in separate cities, in separate beds unless we both agree and have damn good reasons, and my brother's whim is not damn good enough!" she growled forcefully.  They kissed again and it was getting very warm in the kitchen. 

Finally, Mulder pulled away, holding her at arm's reach.  He looked around, listening for a moment.  "Scully, where are our children?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"With my mother and brothers at the beach," she answered, biting her lip. 

"You came back without them?" he asked, frowning. 

"Mulder -- " 

"We have this whole apartment to ourselves?" 

"Mulder, don't be angry.  I trust my mother -- " 

"Scully, stop talking, now!"  He picked her up in his arms as she whooped and grabbed on to his neck.  "No more talking until morning.  Come show me how much you missed me," he said with a wicked grin. 

Crystal City Place

7:35 am 

Walter Skinner was seldom a patient man.  Having been called out of the arms of his intended just an hour before, he wasn't a very happy man, either.  He stood in front of the door to his old apartment and rapped again.  Still, no answer. 

Digging into his pocket, he produced his keys and quickly unlocked the door.  "Mulder," he called, walking into the living room.  No sign of his friend, but that wasn't unusual.  Mulder didn't have a schedule to keep and he'd been at the Bureau pretty late the night before.  Skinner was still alternately kicking himself and patting himself on the back at roping Mulder in on Agent Wright's case.  Mulder had been one of the best, if anyone could teach Wright how to investigate -- and keep an open mind -- it was Mulder.  If only he could figure out how to get Scully involved, Skinner mused as he moved toward the stairs leading to the bedrooms. 

Odd, Mulder's suit coat was hanging off the newel post to the upstairs.  Odder still, his tie was slung over the banister.  One wingtip was kicked toward the corner of the landing; Walter found the other at the top of the steps.  Was that a woman's shoe lying in the hall?  What the hell was Mulder thinking, bringing a woman to the apartment when his partner was still at the beach?   

"Mulder?  What the hell is going on here?" Skinner demanded as he pushed open the bedroom door and caught a full frontal eyeful of Dana Scully reaching for the sheet that had fallen to the floor. 

"Walter?" Scully squeaked, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around her. 

"Dana?" Skinner returned, in a voice almost as high as his diminutive former agent.  He stood there, stunned, unable to move. 

"Hey, uh, Walt, could you meet us downstairs?" Mulder asked politely from a crouched position on the other side of the bed, also without clothing. 

"Sure.  Yeah.  I'll -- I'll make coffee," Skinner said quickly and almost ran down the stairs. 

Walt blushes all the way across his head, Mulder decided as he made his way over to the cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug.  "Um, we, uh, didn't hear you knock," said the former agent, now dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. 

Skinner refused to meet his eye, staring at a spot just over his left shoulder.  "I did knock, you know.  I called you, too." 

"I think Scully heard that.  And your footsteps on the stairs," Mulder said, sipping his coffee.   

A thought occurred to Skinner.   "Where are William and the girls?" 

"Still at the beach," Mulder explained, digging in the refrigerator and producing bagels and cream cheese.  He pointed toward the food, wordlessly offering Walter a share in their breakfast. 

"No, I can't.  I need to get in to the office.  Actually, I came by to get you.  There's been another murder." 

"Murder?" Scully asked from the doorway.  She, too, had dressed, even to the point of wearing long sleeves.  Mulder shot her a raised eyebrow and she ignored him.  "What about a murder?" 

Skinner shot a look over to Mulder who shrugged and looked down at the floor.  "A military contractor was found this morning in his office.  He was dead, but there appears to be no external trauma." 

"Heart attack, stroke, brain aneurysm," Scully rattled off. 

Mulder shook his head.  "He's not the first.  I'm pretty sure when he's opened up they'll find internal organs done to perfection," he commented, taking another sip.  At her questioning look, he grinned.  "Cooked.  Like a Christmas goose.  The military turned to us?" he directed his question to Skinner. 

"He was a contractor.  But it appears he worked in an accounting position, not someone with intelligence information.  The company CEO called it into DC police, but we had a bulletin posted for these types of deaths." 

"Is Wright at the scene?" Mulder continued. 

"Yeah, I told him we'd -- " he shot a look at Scully and something flashed through his eyes.  "I said I'd meet him there." 

"I'm going with you," Mulder announced. 

Scully stuck her hand out.  "Wait a minute.  Why are you going?" she quarreled. 

"The kid, sorry, 'new' agent, an Agent Wright, assigned to the case is working over his head," he explained. 

"So?  Walter should assign him a partner," she said through gritted teeth. 

Skinner busied himself staring at the tile floor. 

"Walter asked me to help the kid out.  Just give him some pointers," Mulder said quickly, hoping to forestall the inevitable argument. 

"Like hell you will," she shot back.  "Mulder, you aren't an agent.  You haven't been for four years.  You are not going back in the field!  You don't have a weapon, you're skills are rusty, at best -- " 

"I didn't hear any complaints last night," he groused sotto voce. 

" -- and you're not ditching me with the kids!" 

"I thought the kids were at the beach," Walter interjected and immediately regretted opening his mouth from the look Scully shot him. 

"Scully, you know, it would really help Wright if you looked at this body," Mulder said, taking hold of her shoulders loosely so that she'd look him in the face.  "Please.  It's just one little body -- "

"I haven't looked inside any body in three years," she spat out. 

"But it's like riding a bike, Scully.  I mean, it's not like they changed where things are put in there," he added, trying to sound reasonable. 

"Why?" she challenged.  "Why this?  Why now?" 

"I just want to extend a professional courtesy," he said, dropping his hands from her shoulders to his sides in defeat. 

Her eyes narrowed.  "The only courtesies you extend will be to me, Mister," she growled.  She turned on her heel and headed out of the kitchen, but stopped before she got to the doorway.  "You can't go dressed like that.  They'll think you're a death groupie." 

"Yes ma'am." 

"And I'm coming to the crime scene, too," she directed at Walter.  "To keep him in line." 

"Absolutely," Skinner agreed. 

"I'm getting dressed.  I'll only be a moment."  It was a command more than a statement. 

"I brought a couple of your 'after William' suits from storage -- ones I didn't recognize," Mulder called out to her as they heard her footsteps tromping up the stairs.  "I better go make sure she finds them and get changed myself."

"Motherhood doesn't seem to have softened all the edges, has it, Mulder?" Walter asked with a small smile. 

"Not all of them," Mulder admitted.  "I tend to think a couple of the edges got sharpened.  Be right back." 

Walden Electronics, Inc.

Falls Church, VA

9:45 AM 

Skinner stood by the door, out of the way of the forensics team, watching his two former agents as they surveyed the crime scene.  A rush of deja vu flooded him.  It was like the last five years had never transpired.  He sighed, wondering how things might have been different it he'd refused to allow Mulder to go out to Bellefleur.  But then, knowing Mulder, the man would have gone ahead without permission and no one would have been there to witness what had happened with the alien ship.  

There was no telling that things would have ended differently in the long run anyway.  Scully and Mulder had been in an intimate relationship, by evidence of their conceiving a child together, long before he and Mulder left for Oregon.  If Mulder hadn't been abducted, Scully probably would have left the X Files, maybe even the Bureau, to raise William.  Mulder, since Samantha's fate had been revealed, might very well have left as well.  Maybe they would have purchased a house in the area, settled down.  Having spent time with them in Montana, Skinner didn't find it so foreign to see them with three kids and an SUV.  Whatever had transpired in the last few years, at least everything appeared to be going well for them now.   Of course, no longer facing eminent colonization by an alien force might have had something to do with that. 

"I'm just happy you're willing to do the autopsy, Agent Scully," Wright was chattering on as Scully examined the body still seated at the only desk in the room. 

"I'm not an Agent anymore, Wright," Scully said with a patient smile.  "Call me Scully.  Or if you want, Dana." 

"Well, we have plenty of prints, but I'm guessing all of them belong to the victim," Mulder said from his position on an office chair, dusting a ceiling vent.  "No sign of a 'Tooms' like entry, either." 

Wright gave Scully a confused glance but she shook her head and wrinkled her nose to avoid any questions.  "If you're done with the body, I'd like to get it transported to the morgue," she said. 

Mulder jumped off the chair and moved to stand by her.  He looked expectantly at Wright.  "Your call, Agent Wright.  Do we give the ME the OK to move him?" 

Wright looked surprised.  "Uh, yeah, I guess we're done here, right?" 

Scully found the floor rather interesting, using her hair to block her smile.  Mulder put his hand on the young man's shoulder, much like a father would, and walked him over to the corner.  

"Wright, I'm sorry, Jeremy," he said in a friendly tone.  "This is your investigation.  We're not even really here.  If you can think of any reason for the body to stay, speak up.  Otherwise, it's best to get the ME going as soon as possible.  Speeds things up.  Got it?" 

Wright swallowed hard and nodded.  "Sorry.  It's just -- " 

"I know, but believe me, it gets easier.  Not better, but easier."  Mulder patted the agent on the back and turned to wink at Scully.  "I guess you get the next turn, former G-woman." 

"Oh joy," she said with a smirk. 

Skinner had made the calls to allow Scully to use the morgue at Quantico.  She and Mulder made the long drive down US 1 to the FBI labs in their rental, while Skinner and Wright followed. 

"So, what do you think of him?" Mulder asked.  They'd just stopped for gas and sunflower seeds and he was buckling himself into the driver's seat. 

"He's green, you're right.  I think he has just a touch of hero worship," she said with a grin that made Mulder's mind flash on a hundred past car trips with this woman. 

"Oh, yeah.  He was all over you, that's for sure," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. 

"Mulder, please.  It's obvious he's a member of the Fox Mulder fan club." 

"As long as you stay President of that fan club, I don't care who else is a member," he said, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. 

She smiled at him and looked out the window.  "God, I don't miss this drive," she said with a weary sigh. 

He nodded, turning his attention to the road. 

"Doctor Scully!  God, it's been how long?"  The administrative assistant for the morgue had Scully in a fierce hug before she was fully in the office.  

"Hi, Grace, three years, actually," Scully said, freeing herself from the woman's grasp.  "How are you, how is your baby?" 

Grace beamed.  "Wonderful, just wonderful.  David is almost four now.  He's such a little person, talking, constantly wanting attention." 

"Yes," Scully smiled.  "I remember he was born just a couple of months after William." 

Grace's eyes widened and her hand flew up to her mouth.  "Oh, Dana, I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to bring up -- " 

Mulder took that as his opportunity.  "It's OK, we have him back.  We're together now.  I'm Fox Mulder, by the way."  He extended his hand in greeting. 

Shaking Mulder's hand, Grace's horror turned to confusion and then happiness.  "You have him back?  That's wonderful!  Oh, Dana, I'm so happy for you.  For all of you, I guess." 

"And we gave him two sisters last year," Mulder added, putting his arm around Scully. 

Grace smiled, but a befuddled look soon crept over her face.  "So you -- But I heard -- Then I guess you're not -- " 

"Nope.  We aren't," Mulder answered succinctly.  "Dr. Scully really needs to get started on an autopsy, Grace, a consult for Assistant Director Skinner.  Can you find out which exam room it's in for her?" 

Grace hurried to her computer and got the information, writing it down for Scully.  "It's just great seeing you again.  I hope you're around for a while?" 

"Not long, but I'll probably see you again before I leave today," Scully said, still smiling.  As they headed toward the labs, Mulder gave her a smirk. 

"Looks like I'm not the only one with a fan club," he said.  Scully waited until an agent passed and then punched Mulder in the arm. 

By the time Scully was scrubbed and gowned the body had arrived.  Donning her safety glasses, she smiled at Mulder, who had perched himself on one of the empty tables.  "Be careful not to get anything on that suit," she warned him. 

He looked down at the charcoal grey fabric and shrugged, popping another seed in his mouth.  "You always liked this one, didn't you?" 

"Not as much as the navy blue one, but yes, I do like that suit.  It looks great on you." 

He frowned for a moment.  "What ever happened to that navy one?  It wasn't in the storage bin." 

She looked up at him, pursing her lips.  "I buried you in it," she said before dropping her eyes to the body splayed out in front of her.  Speaking into the microphone hanging just above her head, she started.  "Dr. Dana Scully, June 8, 2005, autopsy on victim identified as John Lemming . . ." 

Mulder kept quiet for the rest of the procedure.

to be continued in Chapter 8

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