Title: Flight into Egypt
Author: Vickie Moseley 
Summary: After the rain, changes.
Spoiler: Post ep for The Truth
Category: MSR, A, H (happiness)
Rating: PG, but I do use the word 'nipple'
Disclaimer: They say Chris Carter wrote The Truth. 
I find that hard to believe because I liked it. But 
I do acknowledge that he own the rights to these 
characters, so I won't infringe on that.
Archive: yes
Additional author's notes: There have been a dozen 
or so stories written about how they go on without 
William, or how they meet up with him after years and 
he doesn't know them. They are all very nice. This 
is not one of those stories. 
Dedication at the end.
Feedback, please. Let me know if you think the 
premise has potential. vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Flight into Egypt
By Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Roswell, New Mexico
5:55 am

She thought they were sleeping late, but he was 
shaking her shoulder and it was still dark outside.

"Scully. Come on. We have to get going."

She pulled the blanket around her, rubbing the sleep 
from her eyes. "Shower?" she asked, one word 
inquiring if he had taken his shower and in the 
meantime might let her sleep if he hadn't.

"All done. See," he shook his wet hair at her. 
"Your turn."

She nodded and climbed out of bed, dragging the 
blanket a few feet with her. She was naked and the 
cold breeze from the air conditioner caused her to 
shiver. "Didn't use all the hot water, did you?" she 
accused over her shoulder as she pulled the door 
behind her.

"It's the desert, Scully. You run out of water 
before you run out of hot," he told her through the 
closed door.

She soaped herself languidly under the mist of the 
showerhead and wondered what he was thinking. They 
had no place to go, nothing to do, they needed to sit 
down and regroup, plan, decide. Why was he pushing 
them out the door? Unless he felt they had been 
found.

She hurried through the rest of her morning rituals, 
foregoing the usual fifteen minutes of hair styling. 
She was out in the main room, grabbing her jeans and 
tee shirt and looking for her shoes. He handed her a 
cup of coffee, presumably from the continental 
breakfast served in the lobby from 6 to 10 am, 
complements of the motel.

"They have yogurt. You can grab one for the road," 
he told her as he gripped the duffle bag on the bed 
and hefted it over his shoulder. 

"Did you eat anything?" she asked, not looking up in 
the hopes he wouldn't lie to her this time.

"I got an apple. I'm fine," he responded and she 
wished he was being honest this time. She knew he 
didn't eat well in the military stockade, his clothes 
were hanging off him when they met up after his 
escape.

They were out in the parking lot when she finally 
asked what was really on her mind.

"Where are we going, Mulder?"

He gave her a brief smile. "Somewhere we need to go, 
Scully. It won't take long. And then we have plans 
to make."

She nodded and got in the passenger side. It felt 
like old times. He rarely told her where they were 
going or what they were working on until it was too 
late for her to object or back out. Why did she 
expect him to be any different just because they'd 
spent close to a year separated?

They drove for five hours before stopping for lunch. 
At a roadside diner, he ordered a hamburger, deluxe, 
with cheese, onions, pickles, mustard, ketchup, mayo 
and the surprise of the day, jalapeno. Then he added 
an order of onion rings and a piece of sweet potato 
pie. 

She grinned at him in gratitude and ordered a Cobb 
salad, dressing on the side.

"Mulder, where are we going?" she asked again.

"I'll tell you when I know," he smiled at her smugly, 
drenching his onion rings in ketchup and biting into 
one with a flourish.

"I mean it. I really want to know," she insisted.

He reached across the formica tabletop and grasped 
her hand in his. "Trust me, Scully," he breathed.

She closed her eyes and nodded. When they left, half 
her salad was still wilting on the plate.

They drove for another two hours, crossing a state 
line, taking another interstate highway. They were 
now in the far reaches of Utah, skimming the 
Continental Divide. She looked around her at the 
scenery, the splendor that was the Rocky Mountains 
and wondered to herself where they are going. She'd 
stopped asking the question out loud. His answers 
only served to annoy her and she couldn't afford 
feeling that way toward him. Deep in her heart, she 
knew he was right.

Eventually, the steady droning of the tires and the 
emotional upheaval of the last few days caught up 
with her, and she fell into a healing sleep.

As he pulled the car into the gravel lane, he looked 
across at her. She was sleeping, her head turned 
toward his. There was a tear in the corner of her 
eye and it broke free and slid down the side of her 
nose. He knew with inexpressible sorry that she is 
thinking of their child. He chewed on his lip, 
knowing her sorrow, matched with his own. But as the 
long lane turned a corner and revealed a small 
clapboard house, built into the side of a mountain, 
his heart swelled with hope and he smiled through his 
own tears.

As the car approached the house, his was suddenly 
overcome with a sense of foreboding. So far the ones 
who appeared to him, sometimes in dreams, sometimes 
in daylight, had always steered him on the proper 
course. Could the spirits have been wrong this time? 
He put his foot on the brake, stopped the car several 
yards away from the house. 

It looked like a wonderful place to grow up in. The 
house was neatly tucked into the earthen side of the 
mountain, as if the mountain were embracing it, 
keeping it from harm. The windows were kissed with 
shutters, lace curtains billowed from the open panes 
of glass that let the sunshine and the clean mountain 
air into the home.

But it was completely silent. The fear he felt as he 
first saw the house now gripped his heart in a vice 
so tight he was sure his first step would bring him 
to his knees and end his life there and then. 
Somehow, his fear was transformed into courage, the 
courage only a father could know, and he opened the 
car door and hurried to the front door of the house.

The door was unlocked, and pushed easily on its 
hinges. He reached behind him, searching for and 
finally finding his gun, the gun Scully had so 
thoughtfully packed with her when she was preparing 
for their hasty escape. He held the gun in front of 
him as he stepped into the house.

The furniture was slightly worn but clean. A basket 
of baby toys sat next to a padded glider. A coffee 
cup was left unnoticed on the small lamp table near a 
reclining chair. Yesterdays paper was neatly folded 
in a recycle bin near the front door.

No sound. No movement save that of the curtains as 
they breathed with the wind.

He forced himself to stand still and listen. For a 
moment, the only sound that came to him was his own 
breathing, his own heart beat. Then, he heard 
another.

He banged through closed doors, hitting his hip a 
couple of times against door casings in his haste. 
He was running down a hallway, broke open a white 
door, the only one in the house that was locked. It 
led to a set of stairs, digging into the womb of the 
mountain. He took the stairs two at a time, and 
amazed himself when he slipped but caught the railing 
and remained upright. He shrugged off the feeling 
that someone unseen had held his shoulder, supported 
him in his rush to the sound only his heart could 
hear.

The basement housed the furnace/air conditioner, a 
washer and dryer, doors both open for the clothes 
that would never again come. A workbench, as he 
remembered his father once had, sat and waited along 
the wall for a handyman who would never return to his 
labors.

His eyes searched the walls of the room and almost 
overlooked the cut in the paneling. A small 
indentation was all that amounted to a handle. He 
hurried to the door and felt his foot slid as he hit 
a puddle of something on the floor. He looked down, 
lifted his shoe and saw it. Green goo, familiar in 
its own way, vaporizing slowly in the damp air of the 
basement. 

"Oh God," he breathed out, his heart stopping, but 
his body still functioning. His nails tore at the 
indentation, one bent back painfully, but finally the 
door pulled free from its casing and he was able to 
fling it against the wall.

Inside, it looked like a perfect nursery. The walls 
were paneled and then wallpapered, Winnie the Pooh 
characters danced in a two dimensional rendition of 
the 'hunnerd acre woods'. But his peripheral vision 
caught all that for his eyes were on the lone 
occupant of the room, standing just a few yards away.

The tiny boy let out another howl and reached his 
arms into the air. "Da. Dada," he cried through his 
tears.

Mulder's heart started beating but it was now located 
somewhere in his throat. He hurried to the boy, 
sliding once again in another puddle of goo right at 
the side of the crib. Once the tiny being was in his 
arms, he cradled him against his chest, finding his 
mouth releasing a stream of comforting words and 
sounds that he didn't know his bachelor mind held. 
He smiled at his own musings, he knew he wasn't 
really a bachelor and hadn't been one for a long 
time. No bachelor thinks of his son and the child's 
mother when his very life is being threatened. Those 
thoughts belong only to fathers and husbands. And 
holding the child in his arms, Mulder realized he was 
both.

Behind him a noise caused him to twirl and reach for 
his gun that he'd somehow remembered to holster 
before picking up the child. Scully stared at him 
from the doorway, taking in the scene.

A flood of emotions shone on her face, starting with 
annoyance, then anger and finally settling on 
recognition and complete and total joy. She ran to 
his arms, scooping the baby to herself and kissing 
the strawberry red curls. 

"William! Oh, god, William! Do you know how Mommy 
has missed you?" she murmured quietly to the boy, who 
nestled himself into the crook of her neck and smiled 
in content up at his father. 

Mulder engulfed them both in a hug, pulling her to 
his chest and placing a gentle rain of kisses on both 
their heads.

Scully looked up with tears streaming down her face. 
"Mulder, how did you know? How did you find him?"

"We have to talk, Scully, but not here. Look at the 
floor."

Her face furrowed into a confused expression, but she 
did as he instructed. Her foot came away from the 
berber carpet with the essence of the goo still 
clinging to the sole.

"Oh God. You don't think . . ."

Mulder had released them from his embrace and was 
running his hand along the wall near the crib. In 
the shadow, he could see the hole in the paneling, 
revealing the rock wall behind it. A whole at least 
three feet in diameter.

"We almost didn't make it in time," he said with a 
frightened sigh. "C'mon, Scully. I'll help you pack 
him a bag.

"Mulder, his adoptive parent . . . they were . . ?" 
she let the question hang in the air, better 
unspoken.

He nodded. "It looks that way."

Her eyes grew large and she hugged the baby closer to 
her. "I didn't know. I wasn't supposed to know that 
much about them. But they'd been checked out, 
Mulder. John and Monica, Walter even, they checked 
them out. He was supposed to be safe," she was 
crying again, her emotions running so close to the 
surface that she was allowing herself to fall into 
their depths.

He touched her shoulder. "Scully, we can't go into 
this here. Help me. Tell me what he needs."

She nodded shakily and started directing him as he 
tore through drawers of the bureau and changing 
table, gathering up diapers, undershirts, clean 
clothes, the very blankets and sheets from the bed. 
She spied the diaper bag next to the rocking chair 
and pulled it one handed onto her shoulder. At the 
last moment, her eyes caught sight of the folding 
playpen/porta-crib hiding next to the bureau. "Grab 
that too, he can sleep in that until we find a 
place."

Mulder went about his tasks as quickly and 
efficiently as possible. As they hurried up the 
stairs, she started toward the other rooms of the 
house, but he stopped her. "No time," he reminded 
her.

"But what about baby food?" she asked, coming back to 
her practical self.

"We'll get it on the way. It won't look suspicious, 
babies eat all the time," he assured her. But even 
as he was pushing her out the door he remembered 
something he didn't want to leave behind. He loaded 
the items he was carrying into the cargo space of the 
car and went back inside the house, returning with 
the basket of toys from the living room.

"Kid has to have something familiar around him," he 
said as she gave him a raised eyebrow look. 

She had not been idle, finding a car seat in the 
backseat of the Volvo station wagon parked in the 
drive. She was buckling the baby into the back seat, 
kissing his head as Mulder threw himself in the 
driver's seat and started the engine.

They were quiet for several miles, not even the radio 
on. In the silence, Mulder kept his mind focused on 
the road, not allowing himself to think back on the 
scene they'd just left, the drama that had obviously 
played out moments before their arrival. He pushed 
the gas pedal down a little farther and sought out 
his next exit.

Scully sat turned in her seat, watching the small boy 
situated behind Mulder. He was asleep, the car 
sounds and motions lulling him. She couldn't stop 
the tears that kept coming steadily from her eyes, so 
she just wiped at them occasionally, most of them 
falling down her shirt and in her lap.

They had just left the outskirts of Salt Lake when 
William awoke and let out a shriek. Mulder jerked 
the wheel of the car, but Scully smiled easily.

"He always does that when he's really hungry," she 
explained, but it was obvious from the look on 
Mulder's face that this particular habit of his son 
would take him some time to get used to. Scully 
smiled indulgently at him, then she remembered. 
"Mulder, we don't have food."

They could go back, but he had been told to go 
forward. The next town was several miles away, but a 
rest area was just a mile up the road, according to 
the sign.

"I have an idea," he said and pulled into the lane to 
take them to the rest area.

William was making his discomfort known in no 
uncertain terms. The boy's face was red and he was 
hiccupping in his anguish. Scully's 'mother 
instincts' clicked in and recognized he wasn't in any 
danger, just the impatience of the pre-verbal. She 
spoke to him in calming tones, even trying to sing to 
him. Mulder raised an eyebrow at her singing 
efforts, a smile coming to his face as he realized 
what song she used as a lullaby.

"Three Dog Night, Scully? Couldn't you at least have 
picked something by Clapton?" he teased as he pulled 
into a parking place.

She looked askance at his remark. "So. Planning on 
giving our son his first taste of 'Cuisine ala 
Mulder'?" she asked as she got out of the car and 
lifted the still squealing infant out of his seat. 
She grabbed his diaper bag, its weight a comfort on 
her shoulder. Now that the initial shock was over, 
only an incredible happiness was surging through her 
veins.

"C'mon, Scully. These places are used to families on 
the road. I bet we find a whole bunch of things that 
will keep him quiet," he said holding the door for 
her as they entered the building.

Scully made a beeline for the women's restroom, and 
with the sounds of his son's screams echoing off the 
brick walls, Mulder wandered over to the vending 
machines. When Scully joined him a few minutes 
later, he was grimacing at the selection.

"Well, at least he's dry, for the moment. What have 
we got?" she asked, searching the glass cases for any 
sign of sustenance.

"I supposed he's a little young for Screamin' Nacho 
Cheese Doritos, huh?" Mulder queried and was rewarded 
with a glare. "Hot chocolate?" was his second timid 
suggestion.

"Oh, yeah, that would be perfect. Better yet, grab 
him a cup of coffee and he can learn all about his 
parent's addictions," she growled.

"They have ice cream bars," Mulder pointed out 
hopefully.

Scully was shifting the baby back and forth, while 
William, still yelling his head off, was pulling at 
her shirt. "Sweetie, Mommy and Daddy are trying to 
figure this out," she crooned and tried to still the 
infant's hands as he pulled at her buttons.

Mulder saw the look on her face when she first felt 
the sensation. It was confusion, replaced by the 
look of a quiet memory, followed hard by a shake of 
her head in disbelief.

"What is it, Scully?" he asked.

She hesitated to answer. Finally she shook her head 
again. "It's just all the emotions," she discounted 
her reaction more to herself than to him.

"What?" he demanded, putting his hand on her shoulder 
to let her know he wasn't going to be dismissed that 
easily.

She grinned shyly. "It felt . . . well it sort of 
felt for a minute like my letdown reflex kicked in." 
She was blushing and he was now the one confused.

"Letdown? You're depressed?" he asked, totally 
missing the point.

"No, silly. Letdown reflex is what you feel when 
your . . ." She looked around to ensure they were 
alone in the common area. "Your milk comes in," she 
whispered.

Mulder chewed on his lip and then lifted his still 
very angry son from Scully's arms. There on her 
blouse were twin stains of wetness right at her 
nipples.

"Scully, I think we can handle this the old fashioned 
way."

She stared down at her shirt as if it didn't belong 
on her body. When she looked up at him it was 
amazement and disbelief warring in her eyes.

"Mulder, this is impossible. I haven't nursed in 
months! My milk dried up. I can't possibly . . ."

William wasn't taking part in the discussion at all, 
but was reaching again for his mother, grasping with 
tiny fingers at the buttons of her shirt.

"My god," Scully whispered. "Oh my God."

"Scully, I think we need to take this someplace more 
private," Mulder said in a stage whisper as a trucker 
came through the outside door.

"Let's go back to the car. I can try it in the 
backseat," she said in agreement.

In a matter of minutes, William was happily and 
greedily suckling at his mother's breast while Scully 
sat stroking his forehead, more tears dripping down 
her face. Mulder had returned to the building and 
had come back arms laden with junk food and cold 
drinks.

"We'll stop for the night when we hit the next town, 
but for now, this should keep us in provisions," he 
told her.

"You're such a provider, Mulder," she teased, nodding 
to the assortment of cheese puffs, corn chips, potato 
chips and three different kinds of chocolate covered 
candy bars. "If he decides to take up the breast 
again, I can't eat all that chocolate. It'll give 
him gas," she said, turning her attention back to the 
baby who had stopped suckling and was now sleeping, 
his mouth still holding her nipple, but with not 
suction, no force. Gently she raised him to her 
shoulder and he let out a loud burp. 

Mulder grinned. "That's my boy!" he whispered and 
gave Scully a wink.

Scully buckled the boy into his car seat and moved 
into the front seat next to Mulder. She was 
thinking, he could tell. She still couldn't believe 
freely, she couldn't let go and just let it be.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Don't 
twist yourself into a pretzel trying to figure this 
out, Scully. Just take it for what it is. It's a 
miracle, a blessing and it came at just the time we 
needed it. Don't ask too many questions, just accept 
it and be grateful," he cautioned her tenderly.

She nodded, tears brimming her eyes, but she was 
getting a better grip on her roller-coaster emotions. 
"We have to talk about this, Mulder. How you knew 
where to go, what we found, this," she waved down at 
her chest. "All of it. We have to figure it out."

He nodded in agreement. "Just not right now, Scully. 
Let's wait till we find a place to stay for the 
night."

They stopped at a little town just south of the 
Idaho-Montana border, boasting lodging for 
Yellowstone National Park. Scully pointed out an 
inexpensive chain and Mulder pulled the car into the 
driveway that led to the lobby.

In minutes he was back to help her carry their bags 
and William in to the motel. 

"Housekeeping is bringing us a crib," he informed her 
as he slipped the cardkey into the doorlock. The 
room was new, the carpet still smelled fresh. There 
was a king sized bed and a desk and chair with a low 
dresser that acted as the resting place for a 32 inch 
screen television. "All the comforts," he said 
wiggling his eyebrows. He tossed the bags on the bed 
and headed for the bathroom. He returned to the 
sound of the toilet flushing. "All yours."

"We need to go out and find some more diapers," 
Scully informed him.

"I thought we had enough . . ."

"Mulder, believe me, he goes through them as fast as 
you go through sunflower seeds," she retorted dryly. 
He could hear her moving around the bathroom, doing 
something but he wasn't sure what.

"We'll just have to get you to drink less," he told 
William, picking the baby up and carrying him around 
the room. "Look, Will! A TV! Son, this is your 
father's favorite nightlight," he informed the baby, 
who gurgled and cooed at the attention being showered 
upon him.

"We need dinner," Scully mentioned as she came back 
into the main room and started digging through the 
baby's bags. "C'mon, sweetie, Mommy has a place to 
change you and you can even make faces at yourself in 
the mirror," she cooed happily taking him out of 
Mulder's arms and carrying him into the bathroom.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, picking up his keys 
from the nightstand and heading out the door.

A Wendy's, a MacDonald's and a Long John Silvers/Taco 
Bell combo were the finer eating establishments. He 
weighed his options carefully, made his decision and 
went about bringing home dinner for his family.

His family. It had been a long time since he allowed 
himself to even think of that term, much less muse on 
its importance in the scheme of things. He 
understood completely why Scully had taken the 
actions she had taken. In her shoes, he would have 
done the same. But Scully was working without all 
the information. He had the inside track, or at 
least a direct pipeline to the information, it 
seemed. Together, they were much better than either 
of them separately.

She was sitting in the chair by the desk, William 
again at her breast when he came in with their meal. 
She smiled at the bags, indicating his choice had met 
with her approval.

"Wendy's Chinese chicken salad for madam," he intoned 
formally. "With a side order of chili if that 
pleases her and the young master," he added with a 
wink.

"And you, oh brave knight?" she inquired, keeping 
with the tone of his game.

"I slew a dragon and made it into three patties, then 
ravaged the countryside and compiled this," he said, 
producing a Wendy's triple with everything.

"I suppose you're having potatoes with all that 
meat," she prodded with a raised eyebrow.

"Super-sized, so we can share. Oh, and a Frosty for 
dessert. And you can't tell me you won't let me feed 
my son his first Frosty, because that's grounds for 
abuse," he said, wagging his index finger in her 
direction.

He handed her a large cup and she smiled when she 
noticed the clear contents.

"I figured if chocolate caused him gas, I didn't want 
to think what caffeine would do to him," he said with 
a shrug.

"You're getting the hang of this quick, sport," she 
grinned at him.

He watched her in awe as she ate her salad while 
nursing the baby, not only keeping all food off 
herself, but the infant attached to her breast as 
well. Meanwhile, he was so engrossed in her actions 
that he dripped ketchup and tomatoes all over his 
shirt. She sent a thrill down his spine when she 
laughed at him and promised to 'clean him up later'.

William had fallen asleep. Mulder finally noticed 
that housekeeping at been good to their word and a 
crib was waiting at the side of the bed. She burped 
the sleeping infant, laid him down in the crib and 
pressed a kiss to his fuzzy head. When she turned 
around, tears were once again brimming on her lashes, 
but she forced them back with a smile.

"He just needed to be topped off before going down 
for the night," she explained.

"You both needed it," Mulder replied, pulling her to 
him in a quick embrace. "You both needed the comfort 
it brings."

She pulled away and sat down on the bed, her back 
against the headboard. She was signaling her desire 
to talk.

He lay down on the bed at her feet, head propped up 
on his elbow. 

"Tell me everything. Tell me how you knew where he 
was. Tell me where we're going." It wasn't a polite 
request, she used her interrogator's voice. It was a 
demand.

He licked his lips and started. "Since I first broke 
into Mt. Weather, I've seen them. They come at times 
when I need guidance, help."

"Angels?" she asked, sensing he was having trouble 
gathering his thoughts.

He snorted. "Hardly. Krycek was the first."

Her eyes widened. "You saw Krycek?" she asked.

Mulder nodded. "And he spoke to me. He helped me 
find the control room. And then he helped me try to 
escape."

"But you were captured," she pointed out.

"Not because of his advice, believe me. There was no 
possible escape once Rohr had been alerted to my 
presence. So anyway, then I saw him again, in the 
prison, when you came to see me the first time."

"You were standing off to the side of the room, 
staring at the wall," she said, pulling the memory 
forward and reviewing it in detail now. "I thought 
it was the brainwashing."

He shook his head. "I had to put a good show on for 
the cameras, Scully, you know that now. But Krycek 
was there and he talked to me. I asked him why he 
was helping me. He told me because I needed help."

She worried her lip with her tongue. "You said 
'they' have come to you. Who else?"

He scratched at his nose to give him time to 
formulate the correct answer, the one that wouldn't 
cast shadows on her view of his sanity. "Mr. X. He 
was with me in the courtroom."

"Any others?" she asked, trying to calm the urge to 
sound sarcastic.

"The guys. I saw them along the road to the Anasazi 
ruins. And to be honest, they told me to go back, 
make a life for the two of us."

Her face broke as she remembered their friends and 
she wiped at the tears that fell in their memory.

"So who told you where to find William?" she 
continued when she composed herself again.

He looked down at the bedspread. "My father," he 
whispered.

She caught her breath. 

"And your father. Both of them. They came to me in 
a dream, told me where to go to find our son. They, 
uh, they told me that he couldn't be safe unless he 
was in our care, Scully. They told me he'd never be 
safe without us."

She broke into tears again. "Why didn't he come to 
me? Why didn't he tell me that before I gave away 
our baby?"

He pulled himself up and took her in his arms. He 
stroked her hair as she cried into his shirt. 
"Scully, I think at the time, you did what you had to 
do. Our fathers specifically said he had to be with 
'us', both of us. That was the problem. Either of 
us alone can't protect him. It has to be both of us 
or nothing."

That idea seemed to get through to her. "I should 
have waited for you," she said, tears still staining 
her cheeks.

"For how long? You waited almost a year, 
sweetheart," he chided gently. "How long were you 
supposed to keep waiting?"

"Forever," she told him, leaning in to kiss his lips.

He kissed her with passion and then pulled away. 
"Well, that is the right answer on many levels, but 
in this case, hindsight is twenty-twenty. _You_ did 
the right thing. And now _we've_ done the right 
thing."

"All roads lead to this point," she said, remembering 
a turning point in their relationship that center on 
those exact words.

He kissed her nose. "Exactly."

"But the adoptive parents, Mulder, were they . . . 
clones?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea, but I would have to 
say the evidence points to that possibility." He 
stops for a moment, then looks off, considering. "I 
suspect a supersoldier was sent there to kill them 
and take William, but I saw what they'd done. That 
house was built directly into the mountainside. I'm 
not a geologist, but I'm pretty sure there was a vein 
of magnetite in that hill."

"So where do we go? You seem to know where you're 
going," she said pointedly.

He nodded. "Just outside Helena. There's a mountain 
there will a deposit, or so your father seems to 
think."

She choked up again. "Why does he come to you?" she 
asked, trying hard to keep the offended tone out of 
her voice.

He stroked her hair from her face. "I think he sees 
me as the protector, Scully. And besides, I'm more 
likely to believe them without question. I can't 
tell you the reason, but maybe that's why we work so 
well together. Maybe that's the strength I bring to 
this partnership," he smiled and then casting a 
glance at the crib he amended himself. "Sorry, this 
team," he said with a grin.

"And what do I bring?" she asked, her face full of 
worry. 

"You're our heart," he assured her in a hoarse 
whisper punctuated with a kiss. "And William is our 
future."

"Why is this happening, Mulder? I still don't 
understand. Is it because of this?" she asked, 
rubbing the chip where it still rested beneath the 
skin of her neck.

He shook his head firmly. "No, my love. I believe 
it's because of this," and he gently picked up the 
tiny gold cross that hung at her neck. "I think 
we're dealing with a higher power now."

She pulled in a breath and nodded. Then she pulled 
him down to rest on his shoulder and they both fell 
into a much-needed sleep.

The end for now.

Dedicated to all the people who asked: But wouldn't 
the baby have been safer WITH them than without them?