Title:  Flight Into Egypt 4:  Games
Author:  Vickie Moseley  
Summary:  An early fall afternoon, a parish picnic, a 
baseball game, what could possibly go wrong?
Category:  A MT RST babyfic
Rating:  PG
Disclaimer:  I'm not infringing.  10-13 could never 
think of this as a solution.  But if they want to 
give it a try, I'm willing to share.
Archives:  yes
Author notes:  The response to the first three 
stories in this series really was overwhelming.  I'm 
very grateful to everyone who has written and 
encouraged me.  See what you've done?  Bet you're 
thinking 'Oh NO! I've created a monster!', right?  
Well, I have more news.  This is leading somewhere.  
Keep watching.  And thanks for everything.  And 
special thanks to Deb, who believes in the work even 
when she doesn't approve of it ;) and to Ten for fast 
beta services!
Comments always appreciated:  
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Flight Into Egypt 4:  Games
By Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Just one more hill, one bend in the road and he could 
see the house.  Mulder smiled and pushed a little 
harder, breaking into a grin at the squeal of delight 
from his passenger.

Playing 'rickshaw driver' was more fun than he'd ever 
imagined.  He'd seen mothers and fathers pushing 
those jogging strollers as they ran in the park near 
his apartment in Arlington, but he'd always assumed 
it was more trouble than it was worth.  

When Scully had surprised him with one of the 
strollers for Father's Day, he'd been dubious, at 
best.  But after just one run, it became the morning 
ritual.  He would get up at the first ray of sunlight 
through their window.  William was usually just 
rubbing his eyes when he'd whisk him out of his crib 
and change him.  A quick bottle to tide over a tiny 
stomach and they were on the road.

The mountains surrounding their little house were 
spectacular, but they were really in a valley of 
sorts.  There were plenty of stretches of land with 
just a gentle rise.  A little farther out, the road 
started a steeper stretch and Mulder used that length 
of his run to get his cardio moving, hit his runner's 
high.  On the way back, he was flying, and so was 
William, who loved every moment of it.  At times, 
Mulder would imagine a few years down the line, when 
father and son could run this stretch together.  It 
gave him hope.

Scully was awake and waiting for them as they trotted 
up the driveway.

"You're going to turn him into a NASCAR driver," she 
said dryly.

"Move over Jeff Gordon," Mulder panted and took the 
bottle of water she offered him, draining half of it 
in one gulp.  "Showered and dressed so early.  What 
memo did I miss?"

"It's the 24th," she said, giving him a clue.

"Yeah, and it's Saturday.  So?"

She sighed.  "Church picnic.  Games.  You, me, 
William.  Enough potato salad to feed the Montana 
National Guard?"

Mulder slapped his head.  "The picnic!  I'd almost 
forgotten!"

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't forget.  You can't 
cook 10 pounds of potatoes in a couple of minutes, 
even with an extra large microwave," she said, 
ruffling his hair as she walked past him, scooping up 
their son and taking him inside with her.

"I better get my equipment," Mulder said and jogged 
up the stairs and down the hall to the closet in the 
office.  There, a brand new wooden Louisville Slugger 
bat waited next to a brand new leather fielders 
glove, still smelling strongly of the glove oil 
Mulder had been lovingly caressing it with for the 
past five nights.  Scully, at one point, had remarked 
that if he paid half as much attention to rubbing her 
back as he was that glove, she would be very 
grateful.  The comment resulted in a 'hot oil/bubble 
bath' session that lasted from ten minutes after 
William was asleep till the wee hours of the morning 
but neither one of them complained about the lack of 
sleep the next day.

He hoisted the bat on his shoulder, glove under his 
arm, snagged his Yankees cap off the shelf above the 
computer and placed them all in easy reach at the top 
of the stairs.  Then he went into the bathroom for a 
quick shower, changed into jeans and his newly 
acquired Yankees 'official' jersey and headed down to 
the kitchen.

"My god, I thought we were going for the day, not 
moving in!" he exclaimed when he saw the amount of 
paraphernalia his wife had deposited by the back 
door.  She greeted him at the door to the kitchen, a 
rather awkward and obviously heavy Coleman cooler in 
her arms.  "Dana, they have wheels on these things 
for a reason," he scolded and took the cooler from 
her, setting it on the ground so he could pull it by 
the handle to the door.  

"That should go in first," she directed.  "It's OK to 
pile stuff on top of it.  I don't want anything to 
accidentally prop open the lid.  The last thing we 
need is to poison an entire church picnic," she 
muttered.

"I'm skipping the potato salad," Mulder muttered to 
himself.

"I heard that," Scully tossed over her shoulder as 
she lifted the portable playpen and an overstuffed 
diaper bag and opened the screen door.  "Lift that 
barge, tote that bail," she ordered.

They'd been working for several minutes when Mulder 
finally closed the back hatch of the Explorer.  
"Nothing else will fit," he assured her.  

"Well, that's everything, I think," Scully commented, 
heading to the passenger side door.  "Why do I have 
this feeling that we've forgotten something?"

They both jerked their heads up in unison.  
"William!"  Scully was the first up the steps, but 
Mulder's longer legs overtook her and he beat her 
into the kitchen.  Sitting on the floor, surrounded 
by his mother's plastic bowls and lids, was their 
son, laughing and beating on an overturned mixing 
bowl with a wooden toy hammer.  Mulder started 
breathing again at the sight of their baby.  

"Hey, big guy, want to go to a picnic?" he cooed, 
getting his breathing under control.  William happily 
clutched at his arms and wiggled in compliance.  
"Good, let's go."

"How could we . . .?"  Scully was still looking 
shell-shocked. 

"The point is we didn't, Dana.  Relax.  And for the 
record, I really don't think we're the first parents 
who have almost forgotten the kid.  As a matter of 
fact, I'd be more concerned if we didn't have 
something like that happen."

Scully was not to be dissuaded.  "No, we're getting 
careless.  That was incredibly stupid, leaving him in 
the kitchen.  What was I thinking?"  She was biting 
her lip and he was not at all happy with the guilt 
and frustration he saw in her eyes.

He shifted William to his other hip and pulled her to 
his chest.  "Dana, we're not being careless.  We've 
never left him alone or even with anyone else since 
we came here.  He's never out of our sight.  You know 
we would have figured it out the minute no one was 
'singing' as we pulled out of the driveway.  The 
little guy has his own alarm system, ya know," he 
chuckled.  Her eyes were still hooded, she wasn't 
giving an inch.  So much his Scully, he sighed 
inwardly.

He pulled her head toward him so that it rested 
against his chest.  "Dana, we have to get past this.  
We're safe here.  I feel it more and more every day.  
We can't afford to forget our past, but I don't think 
we have to worry every second of every day.  We both 
know that's counterproductive, too."

After a minute, she nodded reluctantly.  

"That's my woman," he said and placed a kiss on the 
crown of her head.  "Now, if we don't move out soon, 
that ice will melt and we're going to be handing out 
e coli at the picnic."

"Bite your tongue," she said and shoved him toward 
the door.

The picnic was at a park just outside Mt. Airy.  It 
was built in a large meadow tucked in among a 
forested area. There was a shelter with a dozen or so 
tables and benches, open on three sides with a 
massive stone fireplace taking up the fourth side.  
Nearby, within earshot, was a playground equipped 
with swingsets, sandboxes and a fairly new piece of 
multipurpose climbing and sliding equipment.  Some of 
the swings were bucket style for smaller children.   
On the other side was a baseball diamond, complete 
with one set of bleachers.

Mary C. and Joe were already at the shelter.  Mary C 
was shaking out old white sheets to act as makeshift 
tablecloths.  Dana promptly offered to help.  Mulder 
was holding William when the Hawthorne's daughter 
Megan broke away from her brothers on the playground 
and came running to greet them.

"Liam!  Hey, Liam.  Remember me, Megan?" she cooed at 
William.  Remembering her manners, she smiled up at 
Mulder.  "Hi, Mr. Hale," she said shyly.

"Hi, Megan.  Here, want a prom date?" Mulder teased 
and handed the baby over to the teenager.  

She grinned broadly.  "Oh, I think I'm gonna have to 
stand in line to get a dance with this guy.  He's got 
killer eyelashes, Mrs. Hale," she said to Dana, but 
her attention was focused completely on the little 
boy in her arms.  "Hey, Liam, want to go over and 
play in the sandbox?"  She looked over at Dana for 
silent permission.  

Dana bit her lip and looked longingly over to the 
playground.  She jumped slightly when Mulder cleared 
his throat and caught her eye.  With one look they 
communicated an entire conversation, the one they'd 
had just that morning at the car.  Dana squared her 
shoulders as if preparing for battle, but gave Megan 
a smile.  "Sure, why not.  But take his shoes off, if 
you don't mind."

Megan sensed her hesitancy.  "I'll watch him really 
close, Mrs. Hale.  Don't you worry!"  They were off 
before Dana could reply.  She watched them for a 
minute until a hand touched her arm.

"She's might gripe about her own siblings, but 
Meggie's great with babies, Dana.  He'll be fine."  
Mary C. gave her an understanding smile.

Dana nodded and then brought herself back to the task 
at hand.  "So, what should we do next?  Put out the 
non-perishables?"

Joe and Mulder had watched the whole scene.  As soon 
as Megan had taken the baby, Mulder went over to help 
Joe get the charcoal arranged in the park's three 
large barbeque grills.

"It's always hard to let 'em go," Joe said with a 
knowing look.  "You know, if you two ever want to get 
away for a while, maybe take a day and go up to 
Helena, just let us know.  We'd be happy to baby-sit 
the little guy."

Mulder shrugged.  "I'll mention it to Dana.  But 
we're pretty much homebodies."

Joe looked at him and for a moment Mulder thought he 
saw a flash of something.  Suspicion?  But it was 
quickly replaced by an affable smile.  "Well, before 
long he'll be hitting those terrible twos and you'll 
_want_ to get away," he joked and went back to 
constructing a tower of charcoal in one of the 
grills.  "So, did you get the mitt you ordered?"

Mulder was happy to change the subject.  "Yeah, came 
Monday.  I've been working it all week."

"The internet," Joe sighed contentedly.  "Makes up 
for being without a good sporting goods store, that's 
for sure!"

"You said the teams were already chosen?" Mulder 
asked, mimicking Joe's charcoal building style in the 
last grill.

"Yeah.  It's a St. Jude's Parish Picnic tradition.  
Basically, a bunch of us played ball back in high 
school.  And most of our boys are either Little 
League or play ball for the high school now.  So it's 
old timers versus young studs."  He eyed Mulder 
appraisingly and then grinned.  "You get to be an 
'old timer'."

Mulder took the hit gracefully.  "Gee, thanks.  I 
think.  So I get to play right field?"

Joe nodded.  "Unless Terry Buck's hip replacement got 
rescheduled.  Then we might need you at second base.  
Ever played second?"

Mulder nodded.  "Once or twice."

"You'll do fine.  Just remember to duck.  We have 
some heavy hitters among the kids."

Mulder grinned.  "Oh, I'll be careful."

By 11:30 the shelter was filled with families.  The 
three long tables that Mary C. and Dana had set to 
hold the food were overflowing with delicious looking 
dishes.  Joe had pressed another parishioner, Mel 
Rinnus, and Mulder into helping him 'man' the grills 
and before long a mountain of hamburgers, hot dogs 
and chicken burgers were steaming on the end of one 
of the groaning tables.

"Padre," Joe called.  "Better say a quick grace and 
move out of the way.  You're liable to get trampled," 
he warned.

"It won't take a second, Joe and the food will taste 
all the better for it," Father Daly teased right 
back.  "In the Name of the Father and the Son . . ."

Mulder watched Dana take their son's hand and help 
the little one make the sign of the Cross, then bowed 
his head as the prayer began.  He couldn't help 
thinking of their conversation of the morning.  Yes, 
he did feel safe in this place, among these people.  
But maybe Scully was right.  They were still very 
much strangers, very much alone.  It felt good to 
forget all the danger they'd lived for so long, but 
the danger was still there, waiting for them to slip 
up.

" . . . and the Holy Spirit.  Amen," Father intoned 
and then with a bright smile, called out "Let's eat!"

The food was served buffet style and families with 
small children were pushed to the front of the line.  
Mulder soon found himself balancing three plates 
while Scully had William on her hip and was carrying 
two paper cups of iced tea back to where they were 
sharing a picnic table with the Hawthorne's.  The 
Hawthorne children had found a table with other 
friends from school, leaving just the adults and 
William.  There was pleasant conversation in between 
mouthfuls of wonderful picnic food.  A second trip 
down the tables was made to take advantage of the 
plentiful dessert selection.

While they ate, Joe pointed out the various 
'teammates' from the assembled crowd.  As far as 
Mulder could see, most of the 'old timers' were men 
not unlike Joe, between 40 and 50 years of age, 
spreading comfortably in the middle, not an athlete 
among them.  It dawned on him finally why Joe was so 
anxious to get him in the game.  Mulder was the 
designated ringer.  After a quick glance at the 15 or 
so teenagers and younger men, all of whom looked like 
they ran or did some form of exercise, that 
revelation took on an ominous feel.  Without him, the 
old guys would get creamed.  Even with him, it still 
wasn't looking good.

After the tables were cleared, Dana found a shady 
spot under a nearby oak tree, laid out the blanket 
she'd packed that morning and convinced a very sleepy 
William to settle in for a much needed nap.

Mulder had volunteered to help with the garbage 
detail.  Four other men joined him in hauling the 
remains of the meal to a 'raccoon and bear proof' 
dumpster near the road.  When he finished washing his 
hands in the water pump near the shelter, drying them 
on the seat of his jeans, he stumbled over to the 
blanket and collapsed with a groan.

"I warned you about that German chocolate cake," she 
chided affectionately as he groaned again, this time 
just to get her attention.

"It wasn't the cake.  It was the Texas brownie I ate 
on the way to the dumpster," he moaned and rolled 
over on his side, propping his head on his hand.  
"He's out!" he said with a grin, watching their 
sleeping son.

"Like a light."  Dana grinned.  "Not even a peep.  He 
just shut down."

"It's the fresh air," Mulder said as he rolled back 
over on his back and closed his eyes.  "Makes 
everyone feel . . . sleepy . . ."  In a second, she 
knew he was asleep.

"And a full tummy might have something to do with 
it," she whispered, watching over her tired men.

She leaned against the tree and let her eyes wander 
over the beauty of the early fall afternoon.  The 
leaves were just starting to turn, the sun was warm 
but under the tree there was a definite chill to the 
breeze.  She pulled a blanket out of the diaper bag 
and covered the baby, tucking it around his little 
body.  He'd grown so much since they'd been reunited.  
Their time apart seemed like a bad dream, like so 
much of the heartache of the last two years.  

Whenever she had a chance to relax, she thought about 
what they'd left behind.  Skinner, her mother, how 
were they fairing?  She wondered what her brother 
Bill would think about Mulder shouldering his share 
of the family duties, taking on childcare like he was 
born to it.  She wished that she could let the people 
they'd left behind see how very happy the three of 
them were at that very moment.

The sun made its journey across the sky, bringing a 
pleasant warmth when the shade of the tree moved away 
from her, but still covered Mulder and the baby.  A 
shadow fell across her feet, causing her to look up, 
squint and shield her eyes.

"It's time," Joe said firmly.  He was standing there 
with a bat swung across his shoulders, a catcher's 
mitt under his arm, a baseball in his right hand.

"He's still asleep, Joe," she said, nodding to the 
gently snoring man just a few feet from her.  Scully 
had also noted the possible players and had almost 
asked Mulder to refrain from the game.  She knew he 
would never agree to that, so letting him sleep 
through it was the next best option.

"The hallowed game of baseball waits for no man, 
Dana," Joe said seriously.

"Tell that to the owners and the players next time 
they consider a strike," came a mutter from the 
formerly sleeping man.

"C'mon, hot shot.  The team needs you," Joe said, 
walking over to kick at Mulder's sneaker. 

"It is still over 30 versus under 30?"  Mulder asked, 
not moving an inch from his supine position on the 
blanket, eyes still closed.

"Yup," Joe replied, flashing Scully a mischievous 
grin.

"We're gonna get our butts kicked," Mulder told him, 
finally cracking one eye open to glare at the man 
towering above him.

"More'n likely," Joe agreed and offered his hand to 
help Mulder up.

"As long as we know where we stand," Mulder said with 
a groan and got to his feet with only minor 
assistance from Joe.

"Be careful," Scully told him with a fearful 
expression.  

"It's baseball, Dana.  A non-contact sport.  I'll 
probably end up with a couple of pulled muscles, but 
I'll be fine," he assured her and leaned over to give 
her a quick 'good luck' kiss before leaving with Joe 
to go warm up.

Playing catch with Mel and Joe, Mulder thought back 
to the last time he and Scully had played baseball.  
Last time, first time, only time.  A star lit field 
at a DC park, a nice piece of ash, it was a very fond 
memory.  But in all their time together, with the 
exception of waiting for him to finish a pick up 
basketball game at the gym before running off to 
chase some mutant, he couldn't remember a time she'd 
ever just watched him play.  Mulder never felt the 
need to prove himself to his partner of 10 years.  
Prove his theories, yes, but not his athletic 
prowess.  He joked about it, but it would still be 
fun to hit a double, show her what he could do on 
this field of play.  Now that their relationship was 
quite firmly on solid ground, he could afford a few 
moments of 'caveman behavior'.  

By the time both sides had warmed up sufficiently to 
avoid serious back strain, according to the town's 
chiropractor and pitcher for the old guys, William 
was awake and chattering.  He kept squirming in 
Dana's arms, his eyes planted on the playground.  
Megan timidly offered to take him again and tamping 
down any anxiety, Scully agreed.  Then Mary C. and 
Dana found seats in the bleachers to watch the game.

"Father's the umpire.  Absolutely _no one_ argues 
with his calls," Mary C. said with a delighted gleam 
in her eyes.  "And he's blind as a bat out there."

"Oh, great," Scully said with a smirk.

"It's usually better for our side than their side.  
What altar boy is going to stand there and tell their 
priest it was a ball and not a strike?"

Dana chuckled and settled in to watch the game, a 
little more relaxed.  It was a church picnic, not 
chasing down a serial killer.  She could handle this.  
Besides, she noted to herself, Mulder's jeans fit him 
very nicely and it was fun to sit on the bleachers 
and know that all the other wives were eyeing the guy 
you were taking home.

Terry's hip replacement had been rescheduled, as Joe 
had warned, so Mulder was at second base.  It took 
him no time at all to settle in to the position.  The 
young guys managed to win first at bat and got one 
runner across home plate before grounding out.  
Mulder waved to Scully in the stands, a confident 
look on his face.

In the second inning, Mulder hit a double straight 
out.  Mel got across the plate to a round of cheers 
from his teammates and offers for a beer after the 
game.  Someone on the bench offered Mulder a beer if 
he made it home.  He waved them off with a smile.  
Glancing over at the bleachers, he caught Scully's 
eye.  She mouthed 'nice piece of ash' at him and he 
ground his foot into the base, beaming his pride.

Joe followed with a single and Mulder decided to 
steal home.  Since he'd been running every morning 
for the last six weeks in mountainous terrain, the 90 
feet from third base to home plate was nothing, but 
he was racing the strong arm of Josh Hawthorne, star 
second baseman for the Mt. Airy Eagles.  It was a 
photo finish, but Father declared Mulder safe and the 
crowd went wild.

Wiping sweat off his face with the sleeve of his 
jersey, Mulder practically strutted back to the 
bench, amid cheers and more beer offers from his 
teammates.

"Oh brother," Dana muttered, but couldn't quite get 
the proud smile off her face.

"He'll be reliving that one for a few days, I'd say," 
Mary C. nodded in agreement.  "Want stay at our house 
for a week?"

"No, I'm used to it, but thanks for the offer," Dana 
replied with a grin.

The game was getting serious by the bottom of the 
fifth.  The young studs, as they called themselves, 
were up by one run and already the 'classics' (a name 
one of the wives had pinned on the old timers) had 
lost their first baseman to a pulled hamstring.  
Another player was recruited from the bleachers and 
the game continued, but everyone was beginning to 
feel the heat of the day, an unseasonable 85 degrees 
in mid September.

Mulder jeered with the rest of the team when Joe was 
tagged at second and the Classics had to take the 
field again.  He jogged over to second, snapping a 
wad of gum and doing the mental calculations to 
remember who would be coming up to bat first.  The 
young studs were as good as he thought they would be.  
From what he'd seen on the field of play, some of the 
younger guys could be playing college ball.  One or 
two might have held their weight in the minors, if it 
were not for parents demanding at least a bachelor's 
degree before they became Hall of Famers.  

Mulder smiled.  Maybe some day William would be out 
here, on a bright September afternoon, playing 
against him.  Of course, Mulder's more rational side 
reminded him that he'd be pushing 60 when that 
happened, but if he managed to keep running, didn't 
fall into a sedentary lifestyle, it could still 
happen.  If they managed to stop that pesky alien 
invasion, of course, the rational side interjected 
again.

To say he was slightly distracted would be 
disrespectful to the force of the hit as the ball 
came off the bat of Joe's son, Josh.  Josh had been 
showing himself to be a heavy hitter all day, but 
this one seemed to come straight out of nowhere.  A 
line drive, right over the right shoulder of the 
pitcher, headed straight and unerringly toward the 
head of the second baseman, who was at that exact 
moment fairly deep in thought.  A startled cry was 
heard from the bleachers as one female voice screamed 
out "Mulder!" and then the air carried the sound of a 
baseball, traveling at speeds in excess of 150 miles 
per hour, hitting and glancing off the not too thick 
bone at the temple of a man standing 6 foot 1.  
Mulder went down like a giant sequoia.

Dana didn't even notice if her feet were hitting 
wooden bleachers or human flesh as she raced down to 
the field.  Muttering every curse she could remember 
and some she just made up, she plowed through the 
throng of team members from both sides.  Joe had 
gotten to him first, because he was kneeling right 
next to Mulder.

"Dana," Joe said helplessly, but Scully pushed the 
man aside, to kneel next to her fallen partner.  

She didn't even look up, her eyes were busy examining 
Mulder.  His pulse was strong at his wrist, airway 
was clear, but he was unconscious and blood was 
dripping down his face at his hairline.  The ball had 
hit him at the temple, just on the opposite side from 
where a bullet had grazed him four years before.  She 
lifted one eyelid and then the other, confirming her 
suspicion.  Concussion, and possibly a bad one 
considered the force of the ball and the point of 
impact.  

Mentally working out the details of transport, she 
looked up as she heard Joe using his satellite cell 
phone to call an ambulance.  She grabbed his hand.  
"No, just instruct them that we're on the way.  Tell 
them to put X ray on standby and we'll need a 
neurological consult.  We don't have time to wait for 
an ambulance, he may have a intracranial hemorrhage.  
We'll just have to drive like a bat out of hell.  all 
the County Sheriff and ask them for an escort to . 
. . damn, where's the nearest trauma unit?"

Joe looked at her, stunned.  "Uh, it's in Helena.  
That's about 60 m-miles," he stumbled.

"Still, we could be there faster than even getting a 
chopper here.  All right, somebody pull our car 
around.  Josh, could you do that?"  Scully had looked 
up when she spoke with Joe and noticed that Josh 
Hawthorne wore the expression of a man who'd just 
accidentally killed someone.  She knew the 17 year 
old needed something to do to help.  Josh accepted 
her keys gratefully and ran as fast as he could to 
the parking area to get the Ford Expedition. 
  
"Dana, are you sure we don't need to call an 
ambulance?" Joe insisted.  "You aren't a doctor," he 
added gently.

"Yes, I am," she hissed.  "Joe, trust me on this.  
Just do as I say and it will all be all right."

Joe started to object again, but Josh had pulled the 
SUV on the field next to the crowd of people.  Dana 
looked up at Joe and then pointed to a couple of the 
stronger looking young men.  "You, and you, you, too, 
I need you to lift him.  You need to keep him as 
level as possible, supporting his back and his neck.  
We're lifting on the count of three.  One . . . two . 
. . three!"  The three men lifted the limp man and 
maneuvered him into the backseat of the car as she 
supervised.  It was the absence of the familiar car 
seat that caught Scully's eye.

"William!" she called out and searched frantically 
for Mary C.  Joe directed her attention to just 
outside the circle of concerned players and she saw 
that Megan was holding William while Mary C. was 
holding the car seat.

"Joe will drive you to the hospital, he knows the way 
by now.  We'll follow with the little guy and meet 
you there," Mary C. called to her.  Mary C. gave Dana 
a comforting nod and headed off with Megan to gather 
the rest of the boys and head for Helena.  

Dana turned back to the SUV and climbed in the back 
seat with Mulder.  "How fast can you get us there, 
Joe?" she asked.

"Mary C. is never in labor more'n two hours and we 
haven't had a home delivery yet," he told her 
proudly.  "You just take care of the patient, leave 
the driving to me."

They'd been on the road less than 20 minutes when 
Mulder started to grow restless.  He moaned and 
thrashed, calling out 'Scully', but it sounded more 
like 'Shully'.  She shushed him, holding him as best 
she could while she sat scrunched between the front 
seats and the back on the floor of the car.  Suddenly 
he opened his eyes and started flailing his arms.  

"He's got a gun, Scully!" he said, as clear 
as day.  "Scully, get down!"  Then his eyes rolled 
into his head and he fell back limp as a rag doll.

Scully quickly checked his pulse and found it more 
rapid than when she'd last checked.  His breathing 
was shallower, as well.  He was growing pale and his 
skin temperature was cooler.  "Joe, could you push it 
a little?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Yeah, sure thing," Joe replied nervously and Scully 
felt the car speed up.  Closing her eyes, she prayed 
they'd get to the hospital in one piece.  

It seemed like an eternity, but later when she 
checked her watch they made the 60-mile ride in less 
than 45 minutes and arrived safely.  Mulder had not 
regained consciousness again and his pulse felt more 
erratic as they pulled into the emergency room 
driveway.  Fortunately, Joe's phone call had alerted 
the ER staff, who were waiting at the doors with a 
gurney and a medical team.  Scully waited until 
they'd unloaded Mulder and had him gurney before she 
attempted to extract herself from her crouched 
position between the seats.  She started to run after 
the medical team when someone in scrubs grabbed her 
arm.  

"Mrs. Hale, you have to come with me.  We need some 
forms filled out," the woman said in a detached, 
professional voice.

Scully was ready to lash out, but caught herself just 
in time.  Mulder was being cared for, she could take 
a moment.  But before the team disappeared behind a 
set of double steel doors, she called to one of the 
nurses.

"He was semi-conscious enroute.  He never regained 
full consciousness.  And his pulse and respirations 
have been steadily deteriorating.  Check for a 
bleed."  Then she turned her attention to the 
admitting nurse, so she missed the disbelieving looks 
she received from the rest of the ER staff.

Scully noted that it took much less time to finish 
admitting paperwork when you had no insurance and 
promised to pay the full amount upon the patient's 
release.  In minutes, she was back with Joe, who was 
pacing the waiting room.

"Have Mary C. and the kids made it?" she asked, 
looking around the sparsely populated lounge.

"Not yet, but she's not a lead foot.  Especially when 
all the kids are with her.  I'm sure they'll be here 
soon."  He was standing at the opposite side of the 
room and giving her suspicious looks.

She knew she'd better start explaining, but where to 
begin?  And how much should she tell this man who was 
a stranger to them just three months before?

"Joe, you better sit down," Scully suggested and he 
was moving to comply when a young woman in scrubs 
cleared her throat at the doorway. 

"Excuse me, is there someone here for Mr. Hale named 
. . ." she looked down at a chart and frowned.  "I 
think he's saying 'Kelly'?"

She shook her head and stepped forward.  "No, he's 
saying Scully.  And that's me.  He's regained 
consciousness?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far.  If you would follow 
me, I'll take you back to see him.  Maybe you can 
help keep him calm while the doctor finishes with the 
examination."

Scully turned to Joe and gave him an apologetic 
smile.  "I better go, he's not the best patient.  
Joe, I promise I'll explain . . ."

"Dana, he needs you now.  Don't worry about me.  I'll 
watch for Mary C. and the kids.  We'll wait here with 
William for as long as you need us."  Any suspicious 
thoughts Joe had, he hid them well as he gave her an 
encouraging smile and a 'thumbs up'.

She returned the smile and then headed after the 
nurse.

Mulder was moving his head from side to side, 
mumbling something.  His eyes were closed and 
occasionally he would wince in pain.  A tall Asian 
man was looking at an x ray on a lighted board and 
frowning.  He glanced over at Scully as she entered 
the examining room.

"Are you Kelly?" he asked, sharply.

"No, I'm Dana Hale, and this is my husband.  He's 
calling out Scully.  That's my maiden name," she 
said, using the excuse she'd dreamed up on the way to 
the cubicle.

The doctor frowned again and then shrugged, holding 
out his hand.  "I'm Dr. Chang.  Am I to understand 
you asked for a neurological consult?"

"I did," Scully said evenly.  "He's had severe trauma 
to the cranium before.  I was concerned by the 
reduced level of consciousness.  He exhibited 
confusion when he did rouse.  I was hoping you'd call 
for a CT scan to rule out intracranial hemorrhage."

Dr. Chang blinked.  "Are you certified to practice 
here in Montana?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his 
voice.

Scully squared herself off for a fight.  "No," she 
admitted.  "However, I hold a medical degree and did 
my residency at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore."

Chang nodded, taking that in.  "A residency in 
neurology?"

Scully fought down the blush that was threatening to 
rise to her cheeks.  "Pathology," she admitted, 
reluctantly.

"Then why don't you let me practice my specialty and 
we can avoid making you practice yours," he said 
curtly.  "From his x rays and my initial examination, 
I see no reason to conduct a CT at this time.  If 
there is an intracranial bleed, it's minor and will 
more than likely clear up on it's own."

Scully started to bristle, but Chang held up a hand 
to settle her down.  "However, I do feel he could 
benefit from a course of meds to reduce the swelling 
in the brain and we will continue to monitor for at 
least 24 hours.  If he hasn't regained consciousness 
by morning, or if any of his vital signs deteriorate 
from where they are presently, we'll perform the CT 
scan and determine our next course of action."

Scully wanted to go for the man's throat, or at least 
go for her gun, but she remembered she wasn't wearing 
one.  Furthermore, upon some reflection, she realized 
that Dr. Chang was reacting to what he must consider 
a relatively minor injury.  Mulder had been struck by 
a baseball, not a gunshot wound to the head.  X rays 
had been taken, a licensed neurologist had examined 
him.  The course of treatment was not outside what 
she would have agreed to under other circumstances.  
She just would have preferred to take every 
precaution.

Chang must have sensed victory, because his demeanor 
softened.  "Mrs. Hale, or rather Dr. Hale, I 
understand how hard it is sit back and watch others 
care for someone you love.  But believe me, I have 
your husband's best interests in mind.  We will 
monitor his condition closely for the rest of the 
night.  If there is any change, the nurses know to 
page me immediately."

She didn't want to like him, especially after he'd 
put her in her place, but she couldn't help herself.  
"Will you be taking him up to a room now?" she asked.

Chang nodded.  "I've got him a bed on 3 south.  It's 
a step down ward for our surgical unit.  They can 
monitor him a little more closely there, but you'll 
be able to stay with him as long as you like.  Given 
his confused state and then fact that he keeps 
calling you by your maiden name, he might find it 
easier if the first face he encounters is yours."

"Our son is out in the waiting room with some friends 
of ours.  I'd like to let them know what's going on."

"How old?" Chang asked.  At her confused look, he 
explained himself.  "Your son.  How old is he?"

"Sixteen months," Scully answered.

Chang chewed on his lip.  "It's a semi-private room 
but I don't think there's anyone else in there right 
now.  If you can keep the little guy quiet, there's 
no reason he can't go in and see Dad, too."  He 
smiled at Scully's obvious relief.  "Hey, I have two 
at home, both under 5.  I know what it's like.  Just 
try to relax, you may be in for a long night."

She nodded and then offered her hand.  "Thank you.  I 
do appreciate all the care you've given him."  While 
the nurses prepared Mulder for his short journey up 
to his room, Scully left to find the Hawthornes and 
William.

Joe was bouncing a crying William and pacing.  Mary 
C. was digging through the diaper back, searching for 
whatever would calm the little guy down.  Everyone 
froze when Scully entered the room.  Then William 
reached out for his mother and Joe and Mary C. 
breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"How is Ellery?" Mary C. asked as she moved the 
diaper bag off the sofa so Dana could sit down with 
the baby.  Once in his mother's arms, he settled 
against her shoulder, stuck his thumb firmly in his 
mouth and drifted off to sleep.  Scully rocked him 
slowly as she collected her thoughts.

"He still hasn't regained consciousness.  They've 
done x rays and believe there might be a minor, and I 
stress minor, intracranial hemorrhage."  At Joe's 
confused glace at Mary C., Scully rushed to explain.  
"He's bleeding in the brain.  But it's not quite as 
serious as it sounds.  They are treating it with 
medication.  That should be enough.  They are 
monitoring him very closely and if there is any 
change, they'll operate.  But at this point, they 
hope to avoid that."

Mary C. made the sign of the cross and Joe just 
looked very relieved.  "Josh is just torn up about 
this," he told her sincerely.

Scully shook her head.  "It was not Josh's fault.  I 
was watching him.  Ellery was daydreaming.  It 
happens sometimes and when it does, he usually ends 
up getting hurt.  When he wakes him, he'll be the 
first one to tell you that this was all his own 
fault, not Josh."  She looked around the room, seeing 
that they were alone.  "Where are the kids?"

"Joe got a couple of rooms at the motel across the 
street.  We figured you'd need someone nearby to help 
with the baby," Mary C. replied.  

"I've got a couple of questions," Joe said slowly, 
looking straight at Dana.  Mary C. frantically tried 
to catch his eye, but he wasn't going to be 
dissuaded.  "First of all, Ellery isn't really named 
Ellery, is he?"

Scully drew in a deep lungful of air and let it out 
slowly.  This was what she'd been dreading the whole 
evening.  But it had to be dealt with.  She laid a 
sleeping William on the sofa, sitting in front of him 
so he couldn't roll off and then looked over at Joe 
and Mary C.

"No, he's not.  But I don't think you'll believe his 
real name, either," she said with a tired smile.

"Try me," Joe replied seriously, crossing his arms.

"Joe, would you just stop this!  Dana is not a 
criminal and you are not going to interrogate her," 
Mary C. huffed.  "He watches way too many episodes of  
'Homicide'," she assured Dana.

Scully shook her head.  "No, it's all right, Mary C.  
He's asking a valid question and the two of you 
deserve an answer.  My husband's name is really Fox 
Mulder.  Up until a year ago, he was my partner in 
the FBI."

"Federal Bureau of Investigation?" Mary C. squeaked 
out.  

"Special Agent, yes," Scully said with a nod.  
"Mulder had been a profiler for years and then ten 
years ago he was assigned to some special cases.  I 
was assigned to work with him on those cases."

"What kind of special cases?" Joe asked suspiciously.

Scully smiled.  Joe would have been right at home 
with the Gunmen.  "Unexplained and unsolved cases.  
Hard cases where normal investigative techniques and 
procedures never gave the right answers."  She could 
see by their blank looks that they weren't quite 
getting it.  "Some of the cases had paranormal 
aspects," she explained after some hesitation.

Mary C. was still sitting there with a confused look.  
It was Joe who put two and two together.  Paranormal.  
Like ghost stories?"

Scully sighed again, this time in exasperation.  
"Well, to be honest, I'm not that much of a believer 
in ghosts.  But yes, if you want to give it a broad 
brush, we did our share of 'ghostbusting', as Mulder 
calls it."

"You call him Mulder, he was calling you Scully in 
the car.  You said that was your maiden name," Joe 
remembered.

"Scully is my maiden name."  She stopped short of 
telling the couple that it was still technically her 
name since she and Mulder weren't legally married.

"So why are you living in Montana, under assumed 
names?  And I have to guess you have quite a stash of 
money somewhere," Joe said evenly.  Mary C. hit him 
in the leg for his comment, but Joe just kept his 
eyes on Scully.

"It's very complicated," Scully tried to put him off.

"We have time," Joe pointed out.  "There are kids 
involved, my kids and your kid.  If there's any 
danger here, I think we have the right to know."

Scully's eyes widened and then she nodded.  "You may 
not believe all of what I'm going to tell you and I 
have absolutely no evidence to support any of it.  
You'll just have to take my word for it that we never 
wanted to lie to people, we're just trying our best 
to live our lives, OK?"

It took the better part of an hour and a half to 
explain their history to Joe's satisfaction.  There 
were still many areas that Scully left blank, but she 
at least let them know that she'd given them the 
details as she'd witnessed them.  She glossed over 
the alien parts of the story, concentrating mostly on 
the government conspiracy and Mulder's recent murder 
'trial' and death sentence, which led to their 
escape.  She told them about Mulder's abduction 
without going into much and failed to mention his 
death and burial.  She avoided telling them about 
William's adoption and his adoptive parents 'deaths', 
but all in all, it was still a tale that many would 
find hard to swallow.  When she finished, Joe was 
looking pale and Mary C. seemed to have her hand 
permanently covering her mouth in a look of shocked 
disbelief.

"Well, either you need to be in Hollywood, cranking 
out a series for that idiot FOX network, or you have 
really been through the wringer," Joe told her 
honestly.

"What I've told you really happened.  One thing 
Mulder values above all else is the truth, Joe," she 
told him sincerely.  

Joe smiled.  "No, I've seen how his eyes light up 
when he talks about you and that little guy," he 
said, pointing at William.  "I think there are a 
couple of things that come before the truth."

"So, is . . . 'Mulder' still wanted for murder?" Mary 
C. asked, confused.  "Is the military . . . but there 
was no body, no real trial . . . I'm totally 
confused," she admitted finally.

"We don't know.  They seem to think we're dead and 
I'd like to keep it that way," Scully answered her.

"But what about your family?" Mary C. pointed out.  
"They must think you're dead, too."

"I know.  I miss them, dearly, but there's nothing we 
can do about it.  We're trying to keep William safe.  
We just want a normal life," she said, tears choking 
her throat.  "We'll probably be leaving soon," she 
added.

Joe had been deep in thought, but he jerked his head 
up at her words.  "Why in the name of God would you 
do that?  Dana, you're safe here.  You are as safe 
now as you're going to be anywhere.  This is as 
remote as you can get, believe me, it's why most 
people live up here.  Sure as hell isn't for the 
great cable selection," he joked, trying to lighten 
the mood.

Mary C. exchanged a quick smile with Joe and put her 
hand on Scully's arm.  "Dana, your secret is safe 
with us.  We would never tell anyone."

"But the whole parish saw me.  I know I yelled out 
'Mulder' when I saw him go down.  I couldn't help it, 
it was reflex," she said with a sigh, wiping at her 
cheeks where the tears were just beginning to make 
tracks.

Mary C. shook her head.  "Dana, do you honestly think 
anyone in those bleachers heard you yell 'Mulder'?" 
she chided.  "They probably heard 'murder' or 'my 
god' or who knows what.  No one was expecting someone 
to get hurt, so they probably weren't paying that 
much attention to what anyone around them was saying, 
or shouting.  But we are going to have to explain why 
a doctor has been living under our noses and we can't 
get decent health care in rural areas," she added.

Scully smiled through her tears.  "I don't think 
you'd want my specialty anyway.  I'm a forensic 
pathologist, a coroner, basically.  I couldn't start 
a real practice if I wanted to."

A nurse tapped on the doorway to the lounge, getting 
their attention.  "Mrs. Hale, your husband is settled 
in his room now.  You can go up and see him."

She nodded and picked up William, who immediately 
snuggled into her shoulder again.  "They told me I 
could keep William in the room with me if he doesn't 
cause too much trouble."

Mary C. frowned.  "Dana, I know you've been through a 
lot and you don't know us that well, but, well, we're 
still here to help.  Why don't you take William up 
for a minute, give yourself a little time together.  
Then we'll take him back to the motel with us until 
morning."  

Dana considered Mary C.'s offer.  She still felt she 
could trust these people.  And at that moment, she 
needed to trust someone.  Slowly, she nodded her 
consent.  Mary C. beamed.

"Mind if we take a look in, just for a minute?" Joe 
asked.  "Then we can report back to Josh that he's 
not up on murder charges," he joked, then realized 
his obvious faux pas.  "Not to say that being up on 
murder charges is a bad thing," he stumbled.  "Well, 
it is a bad thing but not if they don't have a body . 
. . ah, hell, you know what I mean," he huffed.

Scully smiled at him and then glanced at the clock on 
the wall.  "Good heavens, it's almost midnight!  
C'mon, we're all exhausted.  Let's go up, you can see 
for yourself that Mulder's not at death's door and 
you can take William back to the motel.  I'll stay 
here tonight.  In the morning, when he wakes up, I'll 
give him hell for not keeping his mind on the game," 
she said with a grin.  It was so nice to be able to 
call him 'Mulder' again she thought as the four of 
them headed for the elevators.

"No change, Mrs. Hale.  But his vitals are strong," 
Carrie, the desk nurse told her when they arrived at 
the third floor.  "At least the medication seems to 
be working on the swelling," she added with a hopeful 
smile.

"So, you knew exactly what was happening out on the 
ballfield," Joe whispered as they approached the door 
to Mulder's room.

"Let's just say it wasn't a first time experience," 
Scully said with a rueful expression.  "Mulder has a 
. . . unique ability for finding trouble."

"He seems like such a regular guy," Joe said, 
perplexed expression firmly in place.  "I mean, he's 
a great second baseman.  And that double he scored 
today, wow!"

"Oh, don't get me wrong.  Some of our associates 
would love to paint him as a whacked out weirdo, but 
Mulder is just a very smart guy.  He loves baseball, 
he's discovered a real affection for burning food 
over propane or even a charcoal fire, all those 
things were a part of him before.  He just never had 
the time to explore any of them."

They grew quiet as they stood inside the room.  
Mulder looked like he was sleeping, but Scully knew 
better.  He'd had head injuries before, too many for 
her liking.  But Carrie had told the truth, the 
monitors near the bed showed that his pulse was 
strong, his heartbeat steady and he was taking in 
enough oxygen on his own.  All in all, he was just 
unconscious and she knew that would change when he 
was good and ready.

"Looks like he's gonna have one hell of a black eye," 
Joe noted, pointing to the discoloration already 
forming on Mulder's high cheekbone.

"Remarkably, he's looked worse," Scully said with a 
smile.  

William woke up and rubbed his eyes, looking around.  
Then the little boy spied Mulder.  "Daddy!" he said 
clearly.

"Wouldn't you know it," Scully said with a shake of 
her head.  "The first time he says Daddy and his 
father misses it."

"No, I didn't," came a rasped whisper from the bed.  
Scully transferred William to her hip so she could 
lower the rail and sit on the edge of the bed.  By 
the time she was situated, Mulder had opened his 
eyes.  

"Oh god, my head hurts," he moaned, slamming his eyes 
shut again.

"Hey, at least he's talking sense, now," Joe said 
happily.

"Joe?"  Mulder opened his eyes a crack and then 
settled for a nearly closed squint.  Mary C. moved to 
turn down the lights, leaving just the nightlight 
above the bed.  "Did we win?"

Joe snorted out a laugh.  "Game was called for 
medical emergency.  There's always next year," he 
said amiably.

"We coulda been contenders," Mulder said with a tired 
smile.  "Hey, big guy.  Come see Daddy," he said, 
holding out his arms.

"Mulder," Scully chided, but ended up placing the 
little boy next to his father.  William immediately 
curled up on Mulder's shoulder and was soon fast 
asleep again.

"Mulder?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, looking over 
her shoulder to Joe and Mary C.

"You were pretty incoherent on the way here and said 
several things that needed to be explained.  I had to 
come clean," Scully answered cryptically.

Mulder closed his eyes in reluctant acceptance.  
"Probably just as well."

"We won't tell a soul, Fox.  Honest," Joe said 
solemnly.

"Start by never calling me by that name again, and we 
have a deal," Mulder said with a smile.  "We really 
are trying to go by Ellery and Dana."
 
"You got it," Joe promised.  "Hey, let us get this 
little person over to the motel, where he can stretch 
out in a real crib.  We'll be back first thing in the 
morning."  Joe picked the baby up gently and Mary C. 
leaned over and Mulder a peck on the cheek.

"Sleep well," she told him.  "That goes for you, 
too," she directed at Scully.  "What does William eat 
for breakfast?"

"Anything that doesn't eat him first," Mulder replied 
with a grin.

"Well, if that includes pancakes at McDonald's, he'll 
be fed before we bring him back," Mary C. said with a 
wink.

As soon as they left, Scully got up from her perch on 
the bed and sat down in the chair.  She felt horribly 
guilty, but couldn't quite bring up the subject.

"It would have happened sooner or later," Mulder said 
quietly, picking up her thoughts.

"I just hope I haven't endangered them by telling 
them," Scully said softly. 

"Dana, . . . Scully, everyone thinks we're dead.  Our 
names are even listed on the Bureau's website under 
agents killed in the line if duty."

Her head shot up.  "You never told me that," she 
accused.

"I figured it would just upset you.  But in many 
ways, it helps.  If they think we're dead . . ."

"Mom thinks we're dead, too," she said with a hitch 
in her voice.

"I know.  I'm sorry.  That's another reason I never 
brought it up.  But maybe that's the best for her, 
too.  If we're dead, your family won't be in danger, 
either."  He held his arms out to her and she came to 
him easily.  He snuggled her against his side on the 
narrow bed and kissed the crown of her head.  "I'm 
sorry.  But it does work to our advantage."

"And the Hawthornes?  How does their knowing our 
secret work, Mulder?" she asked, burying her face in 
his chest.

"I think it will all work out, Scully.  I really 
think it's going to be all right."

The end (for now)