Title: Flight Into Egypt: Doing It Right Author: Vickie Moseley Summary: It's been two years since they left their old lives behind and arrived in Alexandria, MT. There have been big changes in the Hale (Mulder) household, but there are dark clouds on the horizon. Back home, the search for the truth continues. Category: MSR, A, Mytharc Rating: PG Disclaimer: I'm delving a bit more into the 'new' mytharc, but I'm still not making any money. No copyright infringement intended. Archive: Yes Date first posted: May 17, 2004 SPECIAL NOTE: I'm doing what I swore I would never do -- I'm posting a Work in Progress. I have a plan, the story is complete in my head and outlined on paper. In short, I will not leave you hanging. I'll be posting it in 10 parts, one part each week for the next couple of months. For a few weeks, you can only find the parts on Ephemeral and on Dana K Scully's sites in Brazil (did I mention this is an international WIP?) In a few weeks, I'll have all the parts that have been posted on my website. Just don't yell at me if you don't find them there immediately. If you are like me, and want to wait for the whole story before starting it, I'm cool with that. It should be finished July 18. This is being 'simulcast' in Portuguese because Dana was sweet enough to offer. Hugs, Dana! Straight jackets can be forwarded to vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com. Prayers for my sanity greatly appreciated. Flight into Egypt: Doing it Right by Vickie Moseley May 19, 2004 Arlington National Cemetery 12:30 am The day was bright, the gentle breeze came off the river and danced around the white stones standing like humble sentries over the bodies of those lying at rest. The trees were finally in full leaf, the blossoms of the azaleas were dipping and bending in the breeze in the planters near the gates. It was spring, the smells, the feel of the air, all things spoke of a reawakening. But in some hearts, there was little reason to feel joyful. Walter Skinner stood a respectful distance and solemnly bowed his head, ever mindful of the tears of the woman standing next to him. "I just wish . . ." The quiet air was broken by the raspy whisper which caught on the breeze and caressed his ear before dancing among the white and bronze monuments at their feet. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Mrs. Scully," he said and then wondered why he'd even bothered to speak. He had no words of comfort or solace. For his part, he didn't know if the headstones at their feet were accurate or just another part of the jigsaw puzzle of lies and deceits that continued to rule his life. Maggie Scully shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "They're together. Either here or somewhere else, I know they're together. If that's all I have, I have to be satisfied with that." "I'm so sorry," Skinner mumbled, not daring to clear his throat for fear if the lump was dislodged, it would lead to a dam break of emotions. She smiled up at him and for a fleeting second, he saw her daughter in her eyes. "I know you are, Mr. Skinner. I want you to know how much I appreciate you coming here with me today. I just didn't want this day to go unnoticed. It's the only connection I have with them. Except this." She fingered the locket at her neck, not needing to open it to know the three pictures the tiny frames held. Dana, little William and Fox. The images painstakingly carved out of larger photographs to fit in the locket and be her constant companion. "It's the least I could do, Mrs. Scully," he rasped. She smiled again and patted his arm. "It's time you got back to the office." She started toward her car, parked just yards away on the road winding through Arlington National Cemetery. He didn't follow immediately. Instead he looked down at the headstones, knowing they were nothing more than memorial tributes to the agents he hadn't seen in exactly two years. It had been a fight to get one of the stones in place, politics and conspiracy dueling it out only to be placated by an innocuous memorial resolution at the hands of one US Senator. But it was only fitting that the two stones sit side by side, in this hallowed place. Dana Scully Fox Mulder Special Agents, Fallen in the Line of Duty. Skinner closed his eyes and let a prayer float silently toward the cloudless May sky. If he could only find the answers. St. Peter's Hospital Helena, MT same day 12:30 pm "Push, Dana! One more, push!" the doctor shouted from behind her surgical mask. "C'mon, you've done this once today already, this should be a breeze!" "I think, -- pant, hufff -- this one -- pant -- is bigger!" Dana gritted out through clenched teeth. "Five pounds, four ounces, Mrs. Hale," said the nurse standing near the warming bed. "Nineteen and a half inches long and lots of strawberry blond hair." In the warmer lay a squalling red-faced infant, already wrapped in a bright pink blanket. "Get ready, Ellery. This one will be faster," the doctor warned. Fox Mulder looked over the draping at his partner of eleven years and tried to smile with his eyes. In reality, he was scared shitless. "You're doing fine," the nurse closest to the head of the bed assured Dana, who was panting and sweaty, as red faced as their newborn daughter. "I thought we discussed -- pant -- a C-section -- pant --," Dana huffed out between her breaths. "Yes, we did," the doctor agreed. "And I firmly remember someone telling me they wanted to do this 'the old fashioned way'. I even put it in my notes." "Next time -- huff, pant -- _he_ doesn't get a vote!" Dana said with a glare at the man now seated between her legs. "Hey, no fair picking on the dad," Mulder heard the nurse beside him tell the assembled masses. "He's been doing his part." So far his part had been to catch their first daughter and cut the umbilical cord. That should have been the end of it. But never one to do anything easily, his partner had surprised him when she'd announced early in her pregnancy that the doctor thought she might be carrying twins. A sonogram confirmed the suspicion and now Mulder was being pressed into service for the second time that day to help deliver their other daughter into the world. "One more big one, Dana and this is all over," the doctor assured her. "Unless there's another hiding in there," Mulder muttered and caught Scully's eyes. In spite of herself, she grinned. "You better hope not," she warned him. And then she drew in all her breath and pushed with all her might. The tiny crown of blood-slicked hair soon became a full head and face. The doctor's voice was reminding him to turn the baby to deliver the shoulders, but Mulder was ahead of the game and didn't need direction. The only thought on his mind was that this was the most extreme possibility he would ever encounter -- that he and Scully had helped create not just one incredible life together, but now three lives. He couldn't stop the tears that flowed freely down his face as the baby slipped into his gloved hands and he held her tenderly in his arms. "Oh, god, Scu -- " He caught his words just in time. "Sweetheart," he amended. "She's beautiful." The nurse had taken the baby and was handing him a set of clamps and a pair of scissors. He applied the clamps as he'd been instructed and snipped the cord, separating his daughter from his lover's womb. "Oh, god, they're so beautiful," he whispered again. "My turn, Ellery," the doctor said cheerfully. "Why don't you four get acquainted while I finish up down here," she said and Mulder moved out of the seat he'd occupied to give the obstetrician room to work. "Number two is five pounds, _six_ ounces," another nurse called out from the scale. "And 20 inches long." "So they aren't identical," Mulder said as he cradled Scully and the first of the twins. "Identical is the genetic make up, love. The weights can vary by a few ounces," Dana said with a tired smile. "Hey, there, sweetheart!" she cooed to the baby in her arms. "It's about time I got to hold you. See Daddy? Do you see your Daddy standing there?" The infant had her gaze locked on Mulder's mask-covered face. He reached out his gloved finger and the neonate grabbed it in her fist, giving it a firm squeeze. "She's strong," Mulder commented through shining eyes. "Here's number two, Dad," the nurse said and handed him the second baby, also wrapped in a pink blanket, but this one was imprinted with tiny white bunnies. "What are the names of these future Miss Americas?" Mulder looked over at Scully and she looked back, worried expression firmly in place. "We don't have names yet," she said apologetically. "Actually, we have too many names," Mulder amended. "We're just having some trouble narrowing the field." "Our son wasn't named until he was three days old," Scully explained. "We sort of like to get used to them first." Mulder held the second infant out to Scully and with apparently practiced ease, they switched so that Mulder was holding the first baby in his arms while Scully cradled the other child on her chest. The second baby immediately began rooting for a breast. "Well, this one seems to have her father's instincts," Scully said dryly. "Thanks. Now these woman all think I'm a sex maniac," Mulder shot back. "Three kids under five years of age," said one nurse. "You do the math." The room dissolved into giggles and chuckles. "Hey, I can't be held responsible if the last two came as a matched set," Mulder tried to keep some dignity in his voice by failed miserably. "Listen up, people," said the doctor, standing so she could be both seen and heard. "Let's get these nice folks down to recovery, where Mom can try nursing a bit. Then we'll take these young ladies down to the newborn nursery and I think there's a big brother waiting to see them." In the recovery room, the nurse was very accommodating. "You guys are a little too early," she announced as she helped Scully settle in the bed and handed one baby to her, then the other to Mulder. "Next fall we open the maternity center and then you'll be able to stay in one room, and Dad can even stay the night in there if he wants." "We just didn't think it was worth it to hold off on delivering them till the grand opening," Mulder said dryly. The nurse gave him a curious look and then broke into laughter. "Oh, a joker, are you? I'll have to keep an eye on you. Now, here's the phone, you can make all the long distance calls you want, they'll be billed to your room. Don't worry, we don't charge motel rates -- " "Maybe a hotel on the lower East side of Manhattan," Mulder muttered and Scully shot him a 'be good' look. "Oh, you!" yelped the nurse and shook her head at him. "Anyway, now might be a good time to call all those 'Grandmas and Grandpas' and tell them about the new arrivals. The ones who aren't in the waiting room with your other little boy, of course." "Those are friends out there," Scully said tensely. Mulder reached out his hand to grasp hers. He could almost read her thoughts. She wanted more than anything to reach out to that phone and dial a very familiar number in Baltimore, Maryland, but they both knew that was impossible. Just as she had in the delivery room, the second baby showed an uncanny ability to latch on to the breast and was soon sucking happily, then fell off to sleep. The older of the two seemed uninterested in eating, was more inclined to take in every thing around her. "We have a pragmatist and a dreamer, Woman," he said affectionately as he kissed his partner. "We are in so much trouble!" She laughed and the morose spell was broken, for a moment. The sadness in her eyes couldn't be erased for long. "We'll be able to contact her, someday, my love. I promise," he told her solemnly, and she nodded her head, trying to hold back the tears that threatened. "Oh, Scully," he whispered and gathered her to him as much as the hospital bed and the two infants would allow. "I know it's hard." "I just miss her so much," Dana sobbed. "I wish we could just get some word to her, somehow." "I know, I know," Mulder crooned, stroking her hair. "I'll work on it." "We can't, Mulder," she whispered hoarsely. "Now, more than before, we can't! If 'they' found out about the twins and where William is -- " "Shhh, don't get all upset," he whispered, kissing the crown of her head and rubbing her shoulders and the base of her neck, the fastest way on earth to relax her, as he'd become very aware during this most recent pregnancy. "It doesn't look like it now, but you know how quickly things change." "That's what I've afraid of," she hissed back, more tears falling down her cheeks. "We have a perfect life right now. I'm so afraid we're going to lose it." The nurse came back, seeing the tears. "Hey, hey, it's OK," she cooed, collecting both babies into their assigned bassinets. "I think Mom needs a nap. It was a long delivery, from what I've heard and you've been up all night. Dad, you could lie down a bit, too, before we're scraping you up off the pavement. You aren't here by yourself, are you?" "No, we have friends and our three year old son out in the family lounge," Mulder said, helping Scully settled down in the bed. "Taking a nap does sound like a good idea, huh, love?" he murmured as he lowered the head of the bed so she could rest comfortably. "It feels so weird," Scully mumbled sleepily. "I can't remember the last time I got to sleep on my back." "Well, I remember at least one time, about 9 months ago," Mulder whispered in her ear and got the smile he hoped to receive. "shut up," she mumbled and swatted ineffectually in the direction of his arm. "Go show William his baby sisters." He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. "I'll be back later, when you wake up." He was pretty sure she hadn't heard him because she was already asleep. Family Lounge 1:45 pm Mulder blearily made his way down the hall in the direction the desk nurse had pointed. They'd arrived at the hospital at the ungodly hour of 2:15 am and from the moment they'd hit the door, there had been some kind soul acting as his guide. He was eternally grateful to his new employer, Carroll College, for allowing them to move into an apartment previously reserved for unmarried faculty members for the last month of Dana's pregnancy. They had missed their mountain hideaway in Alexandria, but driving the deserted streets of Helena for only six blocks after Dana's water broke at 2 in the morning was a lot easier than the 30 miles from their home. Now, once Dana and the girls had a chance to rest, they would be moving back home just in time for summer. He found the family lounge, but it was deserted. He was just about to ask if he had the right one when he turned and ran right into MC Hawthorne, carrying an unopened bottle of soda. "Ellery! My gosh, you scared me! Are they here?" MC asked anxiously, leading him into the homey lounge. A big screen television showed a baseball game. Mulder was having a hard time concentrating on anything and the pitch on the set made for a pleasant distraction. "Ellery? Dana . . . the babies . . . delivery?" MC asked again patiently this time. She was getting a bemused expression on her face at his inability to speak, or connect to the world around him. "Oh, come here," she directed in mild disgust. "Sit," she ordered. Amazingly, he sat. "Drink this," she said, handing him the soda. Like an automaton, he unscrewed the cap and drank half the contents, preceding to release a good portion of the CO2 back in the atmosphere in the form of a window-shaking belch. MC shook her head in exasperation, then stood directly between him and the ball game. "Now, then, how is everyone?" He looked up at her and recognition hit. "MC," he said, as if she'd just entered the room. Then, more realization took place. He looked frantically around the lounge. "Where's Will?" "Relax, Dad," MC said with a laugh. "Joe took him to McDonald's. They're at the playland. I told them I'd call as soon as there was news. So, is there news?" "Oh, god, yes," Mulder said, smacking his head. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little out of it. Yes, everyone is fine, just fine. First one was born at just a little past 12 and the second one came along about 12:30. Five pounds four ounces, 19 and half inches, and five pounds, six and 20 inches. Strawberry blond hair, once they cleaned 'em up." "Oh, Dana must be thrilled!" MC exclaimed, hugging her friend. "I'm so happy for you, Ellery!" Mulder hugged the small woman back. "I'm pretty happy, too," he said tiredly. They broke apart and he leaned back against the sofa cushions. "I just wish Will were here. I want him to see the babies." "Daddy, Daddy! Look what I got in my Happy Meal. A soccer guy! Uncle Joe lets me have Dr. Pepper! We played in the playballs," Will hit the family lounge like a three-foot dynamo. "Hey there, buddy!" Mulder said, grabbing his son and lifting him up on his lap. "What do you have there?" "It's a soccer guy. Uncle Joe said I can play soccer when I get big. Can we get a soccer ball and we can play at school?" "We'll talk about that later. I have a surprise," Mulder said, winking up at Joe and MC who were watching fondly a few feet away. "You have two new baby sisters," he announced proudly. "I know," Will said calmly. "Missy and Sammi. Can I go see them now?" he asked. Mulder stared at the little boy for a moment. "Buddy, Mommy and Daddy haven't . . . what did you call them?" "Missy and Sammi, Daddy. Missy was born first. Sammi was next. I'm the oldest!" he said with great seriousness. "Auntie Mary said so." "He's been talking about them since we got here," Joe said with a shrug. "He told us their names are Melissa Margaret and Samantha Ann. I figured you guys must have decided on the names in the last day or two and just didn't tell us." Mulder tried to cover his concern. "We hadn't really considered those names," he said slowly. "Daddy, Missy and Sammi are waitin'," Will said emphatically. "C'mon!" "Will, where did you hear those names for the babies?" Mulder asked, a cold chill taking hold in the pit of his stomach. "The ladies told me," he said casually, fingering his toy soccer player. "What ladies?" Mulder prodded. "The ones that come in my room when I'm sleepin'," Will said with a smile. "They're real pretty. They have long hair, and they smile all the time. They're real nice. Their names are Missy and Sam. They told me the babies' names." MC and Joe looked confused and Mulder didn't want to go into details without consulting Scully. "Well, for the moment, let's wait until we see Mommy to decide the babies names," Mulder said evenly, hoping he didn't upset Will or scare him with his reaction. Will was thrilled that he was allowed to hold each new sister, but it didn't take long for him to get restless and bored with the babies. MC offered to take him back to the apartment for a nap. "You two have to get home, don't you?" Mulder asked. "The kids -- " "Now, Hale, you know the kids are fine. Meg is taking the boys to baseball practice. I told them I'd be home tonight, MC wants to stay for a day or two until Dana gets settled. This is the closest thing to being a grandmother she's likely to get in the foreseeable future, so let her horn in, er, help for a while," Joe said, earning himself a quick kick to the shin. "That would be wonderful," Mulder admitted. He and Scully had discussed the big picture often when they were planning for the babies' arrival, but the little details always seemed to scurry out of view. "Joe got me a room at the Hampton Inn, right across from campus," MC said. "I'll take Will to the apartment for a nap and then tonight, when you're there, I'll fix some dinner so you can rest, too. Of course, you'll want to come back up here during visiting hours, but they're pretty strict about kicking you out right at 9. Joe can tell you." "I have the boot marks on my ass to prove it," Joe said, rubbing his hip. Mulder paced the hall until the nurse finally let him down to see Dana. She was looking better after her nap. They'd let her take a short shower and she was dressed in the nightgown he'd bought for her on her birthday, a nursing gown just as she'd requested. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt when he saw her. "Hey, good lookin'," she said as she held out her arms to him. He fell into her embrace happily. "Did you get some rest?" she asked. "Not a bit," he murmured as he buried his face in her hair. "Don't need sleep. Must make enough to support large family," he spoke in robotic tones. She laughed at him and stroked his hair. Finally, he sat up and took her hand. "Will's with MC at the apartment. I figure I'll bring him up to see you tonight." "Good. I want to read him a bedtime story," she said as she settled back in the pillows. Mulder nodded and made a close examination of her blankets. She knew something was bothering him, but was hesitant to pull it out of him. She squeezed his hand to force him to look at her. "Hey, what's up?" He sucked on his tongue a moment, gathering his wits. "Have you thought about their names?" he asked innocently. She smiled at him and pulled her hand away to reveal a small book hidden under the blankets. _20,000 Baby Names_ "I'm been reading some," she admitted guiltily. "But I was only making notes to go over with you. I know last time I sort of sprung Will's name on you, you didn't get a chance to even say if you had an alternative." "Well, technically, you did most of the work on Will," he pointed out. "I wasn't even fast enough to make it for his birth." As always, he tried to cover his discomfort with humor. She pulled his hand to her mouth to kiss his knuckles. "You were there for all the really important parts," she reminded him. "So, have you been thinking of names?" "No," he said honestly. "But apparently Will has." She frowned and looked at him with a tilt to her head. He continued. "He's been calling them Missy and Sammi." Her sudden intake of breath echoed his reaction. "I know. I asked him where he heard those names. I mean, we've mentioned your sister Melissa and my sister Samantha, but I don't remember calling them by their nicknames." "No, no, I don't either, but it's always possible. Why? How do you think he came up with them?" she asked. "I asked him. He said 'the ladies' told him. The ladies who come into his room when he's sleeping." Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes flew open wide. "Ohmigod . . ." He squeezed her hand still clasped in his palm. "Scully," he whispered, "he said they were very pretty and very nice. He said they smile all the time. And they told him their names are Missy and Sam. He told MC that the babies are named Melissa Margaret and Samantha Ann. Now, I never knew Missy's middle name and I know I've never used Sam's middle name around Will, she avoided it as much as I've avoided Fox." "You think they came to him?" she asked in a tiny, frightened voice. He nodded. "But so far, all of these visitations, for all of us, have been positive. They're watching over us, Scully," he continued in low tones. "I think it's wonderful. And I sort of feel, well, it would seem ungrateful if we didn't, you know -- " "So we name the babies after our sisters, because our sisters came to Will in a dream and told him to tell us," she completed for him. "Mulder, what next? Is your mother going to come one night and offer to babysit for us?" she asked derisively. "I don't think she's the type, sweetheart. She's more the 'send the kids a card with money' type Grandma," he responded. Scully sat there, considering all the implications for a moment. Tears started down her cheeks again. "You know, hormones are a bitch," he said fondly as he wiped her cheek with his thumb. "I was just thinking that the only one of our parents who don't know about us and the kids . . ." "Is your mother," he said sadly. She nodded and her face crumbled as she broke down into sobs. Mulder took her into his arms and held her close. "I promise, we'll get word to her. I just have to figure out a safe way to do it. But I will work on it, I swear to you, Scully. I will work on it." FBI Headquarters Washington DC Violent Crimes Unit. July 20, 2003 His desk was at the back of the room, in a corner that had previously been home to the copier. The irony was not lost on him. Walter Skinner straightened the sheets of paper in his hand and returned them to the folder on his desk. Another file, another case. He wasn't allowed to work in the field, he was just allowed to consult. Most of his consultations were over the phone and it was given no real authority over the investigations. In short, he was punching the clock, just taking up space until his retirement in five years. Skinner still wasn't sure why they hadn't just fired him. John Doggett had been summarily dismissed upon his return from Arizona. He'd gone back to New York where he was once again on the police force. Monica Reyes had not even left a forwarding address, but he'd heard she'd moved back to New Orleans. He wondered briefly why she didn't go to New York with Doggett, but decided it was best not to worry about such things. Besides, after Deputy Director Kersh's complete vanishing act, from the Hoover Building in the middle of the day after he'd help Mulder escape a death squad, Skinner decided it was best not to look into anything too deeply. And no one had seen or heard from Fox Mulder and Dana Scully in over two years. After much debate, and the testimony of Doggett and Reyes that they'd last seen the pair entering a pueblo that had been destroyed by rocket fire, the official version was that the two were killed in the line of duty. Skinner realized that was as much to keep Scully's brothers and her mother off the trail of the conspiracy as it was any honor to the two agents. Skinner had tried, just once, to contact the person who had helped him place baby William with his adoptive family. The phone number was disconnected. Skinner worried about that, too, when he allowed his mind to go in that direction. For the most part, he was just trying to survive. He picked up the file folder on the top of the pile. Three deaths across the northeast. A serial killer was suspected. The only impairment to the investigation, there were no bodies of the victims. There were witnesses to each murder, had different descriptions of the murderer, but they were sketchy at best. Tall, at least 6 foot. Built, or so one witness had described him. But the murders had occurred in shadows, dark alleys, at a mostly deserted rest stop in Massachusetts. No make on even the race of the killer. Skinner pulled the pages forward and adjusted his glasses. The case was interesting. A sudden twinge caught him in the gut. Just the kind of case he would have sent downstairs to the basement. An X file. But the X files were closed, the filing cabinets packed off to some warehouse, the old office once again a copy room. Every bit of evidence that there had ever been an X Files Division had been erased, possibly like the two agents who had made up that division. He shook his head to dispel his maudlin thoughts. "Give it to Walter, this should be up his alley." Skinner cringed at the sound of the SAC's voice. Gary McDaniel. He'd been McDaniel's supervisor just two years ago. The tough young agent had been hanging by a thread, had two reprimands already in his jacket. One more disciplinary notice and he would have been standing before OPR. But McDaniel apparently had some friends, and after Kersh's disappearance and Skinner's own fall from grace, McDaniel's found himself in the catbird's seat. He was making sure to remind Skinner of his position every single day. The file folder made a loud 'thump' when it hit the corner of his desk. "You're good at fertilizer checks, Walter, aren't you?" McDaniel sneered. "After all those years of bullshit from those losers in the basement." Skinner sat stone still, holding his anger tight in his chest. He had nothing left except his pension and he had two years before he could even think about retiring. Well, 22 months, 18 days, he glanced down at his watch and mentally did the calculations. Five hours and 12 minutes. He could hold it in that long. Maybe. "You have your assignment, Agent Skinner. I suggest you pick up that phone and let your fingers do the walking." "I thought I was supposed to review the work on these killings, sir," Skinner said with an emphasis on the 'sir' that made his jaw ache. "Well, you thought wrong, Skinner," McDaniel sneered. "That's way out of your league now, mister." He forced himself to look up at the glowering young man staring down at him. Skinner refused to flinch in front of the little bastard. "Did you hear me, Skinner? Start shoveling that shit," McDaniel smirked. The folder was just inches from his fingertips. He fought the urge to throw it in McDaniel's face. Instead, using very controlled movements, he opened McDaniel's folder, grabbed the phone receiver and dialed the first number. McDaniel started to walk away, but turned around a few feet from Skinner's desk. "Let me know if anything 'Spooky' pops up, Walter," McDaniel called out as one last parting shot. The pull bit erupted in loud snickering as the other agents caught the joke. Skinner squared his shoulders and didn't look up. Only the ring tone of the receiver heard his near silent "Yes sir, asshole!" 12:00 The only bright spot in Walter Skinner's week came at lunchtime on Thursdays. After years of being his Administrative Assistant, Kimberly Mathers was heartbroken when she was forced to change jobs after Skinner's demotion. The worse luck for Kim was that she ended up working on the sixth floor, the Director's offices. It was a step up the ladder for Kim, but it just pounded home how far her former boss had fallen. About a month after Skinner's new assignment, Kim made a point of bumping into him at the Bureau cafeteria. She suggested that they would find better food at a local diner. Skinner took a chance and went there the next day at noon. Sure enough, Kim was there and they had lunch together. They had been meeting for lunch every Thursday since that day. Kim had suggested a new place, a little further from the Bureau, the last time they'd met. Skinner arrived at noon straight up and looked around. It was a small Mexican restaurant. He got a table for two and sat down, munching chips and salsa until Kim arrived. She was almost ten minutes late and he was starting to get worried. She hurried over to the table, immediately apologizing. "Walter, I'm so sorry! The office was a mess this morning and I just couldn't get a way." "Kim, that's perfectly all right. You have a lot of responsibilities, keeping those bozos in line up there on six," Skinner teased. "Believe it. And here I left a good job working as an aide at a day care to come to work for the Government," she said with a sigh. "Some days I feel like I'm back there." Skinner chuckled. It was the only pleasure he got anymore. He often thought about asking Kim out after work, but each time had decided against it. He was a pariah and the last thing he wanted to do was drag her down with him. Better to keep their relationship to the occasional lunch, if it allowed Kim to keep her position at the office. They looked over the menus and gave the waiter their order. As soon as the young man had left, Skinner's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what emergency befell the upper echelons of power today? White House briefing? Tenet called and cancelled the joint CIA-FBI golf outing?" he asked with a devilish grin. She giggled. "Oh, no, not the golf outing! I would have had to cancel this lunch if that had happened," she shot back. "No, apparently Deputy Director Marris left. And from what I could gather, it was quite sudden." "Marris?" Skinner asked and a flood of apprehension swept through him. "Wasn't he . . ." Kim looked around them furtively and then leaned closer to Skinner, lowering her voice. "On Agent you know who's little jury? Yes, he was. He took DD Kersh's place after Kersh disappeared." Skinner had been fairly certain that Alvin Kersh would not be 'reappearing'. He was positive Kersh had been killed for his part in helping Mulder escape the military stockade. As always, no body was found and no investigation was made. It was as if Kersh had just decided to find employment elsewhere. "You say Marris left? Where did he go?" Kim's eyebrows knitted and she shrugged. "That's what his secretary would like to know," she said conspiratorially. "He was at work yesterday, had a full appointment schedule for today. He never called in. She was informed by the front office about ten o'clock." The 'front office' was Kim's nickname for the Attorney General's office. Skinner chewed on his lip. Their food arrived and the conversation changed directions to the new sitcom that Kim had convinced Skinner to start watching. They didn't discuss Marris or his disappearance again for the rest of the lunch. The next day, Skinner was at his desk, again looking through the file on the murders without bodies. He pulled up a map program on the internet and charted the path. It appeared that the killer or killers were traveling south, along the eastern seaboard. As he was trying to figure out how that fit with what they already knew, which was next to nothing, his phone rang. It was Kim. "Walter, can you meet for lunch?" she asked, and only the note of desperation in her voice stopped him from teasing her about having to see him again so soon. "Sure. Just not Mexican, OK? I think those burritos were filled with explosives." That lightened the moment a little. She chuckled. "OK, how about hot dogs on the Mall. Same time." "I'll see you then," he promised and put the phone down slowly. He couldn't imagine what had Kim so rattled. It would be a long three hours until lunchtime. It was a beautiful day on the Capitol Mall. The tourists were in full bloom, several tour buses were already spewing forth passengers in front of the National Gallery of Art. Skinner hurried across the lawn to the hot dog vendor near the Smithsonian Castle. Kim had beaten him and was already holding her dog and drink. She waited while he got his food and then nodded up the street toward the Capitol. "It's a nice day. Can we walk?" she asked. He nodded in agreement. "So, what's up? Today isn't Thursday," he said pointedly as they made their way up the sidewalk past the Air and Space Museum. "Two more of them are gone, Walter. I'm getting scared," she said succinctly. "Who is gone?" he asked, stopping in mid bite. "Two more of the men on the sixth floor! An AD and another DD," she said in a whisper. "Names?" "Brinker and Huffman," she said, looking quickly at the crowd of tourist that was about to surround them. "Shhh, I don't want anyone to hear." They made their way through the tourists, who were all from some Latin American country from the sounds of their chatter, and Skinner directed her over to a bench to sit down. "Kim, is this like yesterday? What do you mean they are gone?" "They were both at work yesterday, and never showed up today. But Walter, that's not the scary part. It's like they never existed! They're names are being removed from their doors as we speak. It's just spooky," she said with a visible shiver. The word hit him hard. She noticed immediately. "Oh, darn it, I'm sorry, Walter. I didn't mean that . . . you know what I mean," she mumbled helplessly. "No, it's OK, Kim. I understand," he tried to reassure her. "Brinker and Huffman and yesterday it was Marris." "All of them gone. Poof!" she said, snapping her fingers. "Walter, I knew Marris had a hand in that . . . situation a few years ago, but I didn't know if Brinker . . ." "Both Brinker and Huffman were on that jury, Kim," Skinner confirmed her suspicions. "Oh shit," Kim said, staring down at her drink. She finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Walter, these men, I admit I didn't care about them one way or another, but to just vanish without a trace . . ." "Kim, I want you to go back to the office and just leave this alone," Skinner said gruffly. At her startled expression, he softened his tone. "I think you're right to be scared. But if you leave this alone, nothing will happen to you." "Walter," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not afraid for me. I'm afraid for you! You were Agent Mulder's defense attorney. If all the members of that jury start vanishing, what might happen to you?" Skinner looked into her eyes and was absolutely floored by what he saw there. If he didn't know better, he could swear he saw love in Kim's eyes. He shook his head slowly, not quite believing. Then Kim took his hand in hers and the sensation completely blew him away. "Walter, I know you've hated being down in VCS and you're only sticking it out to get your pension. But please, if you're in any danger, get out now. If anything were to happen to you . . ." she looked away and as she turned her head, Skinner could see tears on her lashes. "Kim . . . I don't . . ." He stopped himself. This wasn't the time or place to have a conversation about where their relationship was headed. Kim was right, he could be in danger. The very last place she should be seen was with him. "We need to get back to the office, but I think we should go there separately. You go ahead, I'll follow in a few minutes." "You think this is something. You think you're in danger, too," she said quietly. He smiled wanly at her. "I think I'm very lucky you got that promotion to the sixth floor," he said calmly. "Now, you need to get back." She nodded and started to get up. Suddenly, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Be careful, Walter," she pleaded. Before he could recover from his shock, she was half a block away. Walter spent the rest of the afternoon trying to locate any mention of the three missing men in the Bureau's files. The directory of staff had been changed and even Holly in research couldn't find any mention of them in the personnel files. Skinner was more convinced than ever that the men were murdered and a cover up was underway. His only question was why. Five o'clock finally arrived and Skinner shut down his computer and headed home. His apartment in Crystal City was dark and lonely, as always. He deposited his suit coat on the back of an armchair and his tie on the coffee table. Pulling out a yellow post it note, he dialed a number he'd found online. "Peter Kallenbrunner," answered the other party after the second ring. Skinner cringed. The last man on earth he ever expected to be calling was Agent Kallenbrunner. He could still see the man, could still picture him as he sat at the prosecution's table in that dungeon of a courtroom. It was everything Skinner could do not to hang up the phone. "Agent Kallenbrunner, this is Walter Skinner." There was silence on the other end of the line for several seconds. "Skinner? What can I do for you Assistant Director?" Skinner swallowed and eyed his makeshift bar on the counter in the kitchen. He'd have given his right arm for a glass of bourbon at that moment. "It's Agent Skinner now." Kallenbrunner was quiet again. "I'm sorry to hear that. Anyway, what can I do for you, Agent Skinner?" "It's come to my attention that men are disappearing. Men who have something in common . . . with you and me." "We have something in common, Agent Skinner?" came the slightly bemused voice over the phone line. "I don't think you would have thought that two years ago." "That is precisely what I'm talking about," Skinner ground out angrily. "Our last meeting, we weren't alone." "I'm very well aware that we weren't the only ones in the room, Skinner. And two years ago, one of the men who was also in that room disappeared without a trace. I don't remember getting a phone call from you at that time." "Agent Mulder was set up," Skinner growled. "And you know it! You knew it when the body failed to be Knowle Rohrer." "That was an unsubstantiated rumor perpetrated by the lover of the defendant. I find it hardly . . ." "Listen to me, you asshole!" Skinner shouted. "The members of that kangaroo court, the jury members, and I use that term loosely, are failing to show up at their jobs. There is no explanation and more importantly, no investigation of their whereabouts." "Maybe they just got jobs somewhere else," Kallenbrunner suggested but he was at least listening. "No, it has been too sudden. No warning, they are just gone. Their names were removed from the personnel files the day of their disappearance." "You hacked into the Bureau personnel files, Skinner?" "I didn't 'hack' into anything, you son of a bitch! I have a friend who looked for me. Will you pull that Rule Book out of your ass and just listen to me for a moment? We could be next!" He was again met with silence from the man in California. "What do you want me to do?" Kallenbrunner asked tersely. "The two other members of the jury, Hanson and Galbrith, where are they?" "Hanson was assigned to the New Mexico Regional office and Galbrith is out here in LA. He's my boss." Skinner's stomach dropped to the floor. This might not have been the best idea he'd had. "Keep an eye on Galbrith, I'll keep an eye on Hanson." "What if they come for one of us? I have a wife . . . and kids," Kallenbrunner whispered into the phone line. Skinner closed his eyes. "We keep in touch. I'll call you about this time each day." "Call my cell phone. I don't want this going through the Bureau switchboard." Kallenbrunner rattled off his number. "Good thinking," Skinner complimented him and returned the favor. "If something happens, if you need me, just call." "Skinner," Kallenbrunner called out just before the older man had disconnected the call. "Yeah?" "Is this what they mean when they say 'strange bedfellows?" If was a lame excuse for a joke, and Skinner took it to mean that the younger man was now truly frightened. "Yeah, I guess it is." "Shit," came the response. Kallenbrunner hung up before Skinner had a chance to reply. Skinner sat there with the phone still in his hand until the automated voice asked him if he cared to place another call and directed him to hang up the phone. Slowly, he put the phone back on its cradle. Kallenbrunner hadn't been much help, but at least Skinner now knew the whereabouts of the two other jurors. If he were a betting man, he'd bet on the guy in New Mexico disappearing next. New Mexico. Skinner shivered as the memory coursed over him. Scully, in tears. Monica telling her she didn't have to decide that night, she should think on it, she should sleep on it. Finally, Doggett had taken Monica home and it was just he and Scully. When she'd looked at him with those tears in her eyes, his heart had broken into a million pieces. "I want William to be safe," she'd sobbed, holding herself so rigid he thought she would shatter if a feather had landed in her lap. "Make sure he's safe." He had accepted that charge. He contacted an old buddy from the Marines and he found a place for William, a quiet place, a good home. He alone knew the location, in case it was an emergency, in case he learned that William wasn't safe, even in the safest of places. It was the least he could after all she'd been through. Now he knew he'd have to go out to New Mexico, just to make sure. If every member of Mulder's jury was disappearing, could his son be in danger? It was a chance Skinner just couldn't take. He dialed the Bureau offices, left a message on McDaniel's voicemail. He was taking a few weeks of vacation, effective immediately. Hale Household Alexandria, MT June 19, 2004 6:05 am Mulder leaned over to finish tying a shoelace when he heard it. Not it, he admonished himself -- them. The twins. It was a morning ritual. He hadn't had a good morning run since the babies came home from the hospital. He sighed resignedly and climbed the stairs to the nursery that used to be his office. On opposite sides of the room, two identical cribs framed the window that overlooked the 'Old Man', as he and Scully referred to 'their' mountain. The birds were just starting up a chatter in the aspen tree outside the window. Neither baby was crying. Melissa had her fist in her mouth, sucking vigorously. Little Samantha was eyeing the mobile above her head -- Blues Clues characters, at her older brother's insistence, danced in the faint breeze. She was staring so hard, her tiny blue eyes were crossed. When they heard their father's approach, both babies turned their heads toward the door. "Hey, there, what are you two doing up this early? Why can't you be more like your mom, huh? Sleep in a little, and give your old man a break?" Mulder scooped up first Samantha and then Melissa into his arms. He'd gotten fairly proficient at carrying both babies. He danced them around the room once and then deposited Melissa in her infant seat while he quickly diapered her sister, then switched babies and repeated the process. Soon, he had them both in his arms again and he sat down in the glider that occupied the corner of the room. "Well, ladies, that's the extent of my duties, until you decide to take a bottle or start on solid food." The babies stared up at him, mesmerized. Little feet in the hallway alerted him to another inhabitant of the house, but unfortunately, not one that could lend him much assistance. "Daddy, I'm hungry," yawned a droopy-eyed William from the doorway. "Put the babies down and make me oatmeal," the little boy pleaded. "Will, what did your mom and I tell you about that?" Mulder asked, giving his son a frown. William sighed, unknowingly mimicking his father from just moments before. "The babies are littler and they come first. But that means I come second, right? Or sometime?" Mulder had a hard time keeping a straight face in light of his son's perceptive logic. "Yes, it does. And either Mommy or I will get you some oatmeal in just a minute. I was hoping we could let Mommy sleep a little this morning, but maybe it's time to wake her up." "No need," yawned Scully as she ruffled William's hair and stepped around him to walk across the room and crouch next to Mulder and her daughters. "I'm up. Heads or tails?" she asked. "Too late, I changed 'em already." Mulder smiled at her. "But if you make Will's oatmeal, I'll keep the girls occupied." "Deal," Scully said, reaching up to capture a good morning kiss from her partner. "Did you get your run?" she asked, noticing for the first time his attire of running shorts and tee shirt. He shook his head and shrugged. "Maybe when they're in kindergarten?" he offered. "More likely when they're in college," Scully said tiredly and ushered William down the hall. "I'll make coffee." "I knew there was a reason I love you," he said loudly enough for her to hear over William jumping down each step of the staircase. Melissa fussed slightly in his arms and he leveraged her onto his shoulder. "I know, I know, you're hungry. Mommy will be back soon," he crooned to her. Looking down at Samantha, he smiled. "And you're just content to check out the window, hmm?" He followed the baby's gaze out the window to the mountain. It was beautiful in the early morning light. The last of the snow had melted from their yard, but there was still snow on the top of the mountain. Drawing his line of sight indoors, he looked around the room. It was a sweet little nursery. He and Scully had fixed it up a few months before the babies arrived, with considerable help from Joe and MC Hawthorne. The room sported cream-colored walls with a border of dancing teddy bears. He was happy at how it had turned out, but more so when he saw the look of gratitude on Scully's face when she had seen the finished product for the first time. Of course, in true pregnant fashion, she had broken down into tears and sobbed into his paint-splattered shirt. But he knew they were tears of joy. "Have you thought more about the house?" Scully asked softly as she stepped into the room. "Is William eating?" he asked, ignoring her question for the moment. "Yes, and I started the coffee; it'll be ready when you go clean up his mess. Now I believe it's this lady's turn," Scully said, lifting Melissa out of her father's arms. "I'll lay down with her. Come talk to me." Mulder switched Samantha to his shoulder and followed Scully into their bedroom. She moved the blankets aside and lay down on her side, slipping open her nursing gown and helping the infant latch on to her nipple. Mulder stood watching her, mesmerized, a warm and strongly protective feeling rushing through him. "How long are you going to breastfed them both, Scully?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. She smiled up at him. "Oh, probably until they're six months old. Then we'll see. I enjoy it, Mulder. And I get plenty of rest, with you home most days. Since Meggie has been coming to help out, I sleep longer than William." "That's not saying much," Mulder scoffed. "Mulder, you're deflecting," she teased. When he gave her a confused look, she prodded further. "The house?" He chewed on his lip and looked around their bedroom. It was small, but served its purpose. Still, with two new additions to the family, he wondered how long it would be before they began feeling cramped. He looked out their bedroom window to the trees in the yard and by the road. The crabapple blossoms still littered the ground. The redbud was finally loosing the last of its purple flowers. It had been breathtaking, this house in the springtime. "I think . . . I think we need to add on," he said slowly, looking over at her. "Maybe a master bedroom up here and a real office downstairs. When the girls are older, one of them can have this room and the other can keep the nursery -- with suitable redecorating, of course." She smiled up at him. "So we're going to buy this house?" "Do you want to?" he asked. "I wanted to say yes last night when they called. Mulder, we're safe here. It's been two years and nothing has happened, no military has come looking for you, no super-soldiers have been looking for William. Besides, if we don't take it we have to move and the thought of moving right now . . ." "But I'm talking about adding on, and that's a headache, too," he countered. "I can live through plaster and sawdust if I don't have to pack," she said with a grin. "Then I'll call Jim later today. It's a shame about his dad dying, but Jimmy was 89 and it sounds like the old guy had a good life. If we buy the house it will be one less thing for his family to worry about. I don't want to keep them waiting. They want to get the estate settled as soon as possible." "Dana, Mr. Hale, I'm here," came a young voice from the downstairs hall. "We're up in the bedroom, Meg. Come on up," Scully called down to the teen. "How come you're 'Dana' and I'm still 'Mr. Hale'?" Mulder asked with a scowl. "Because she doesn't have a school girl crush on me," Scully answered with a malicious grin. "She thinks you're 'awesome,' but totally out of her league." "Are you sure you aren't confusing me with Orlando Bloom?" Mulder whispered back as he heard footsteps on the stairs. "Not a chance. Don't worry, I'm used to your 'effect' on women, Mulder. I would bet good money that half the girls taking Deviant Behavior this summer are there just to see if you come in to teach class wearing a muscle shirt and cut off shorts," she said affably. He looked down at his running clothes, a University of Montana sweatshirt minus the sleeves and a pair of Nike running shorts. He grinned at her. "Maybe I just won't change for class," he teased. "Hit the showers," Scully laughed. She moved from the bed with Melissa and was about to pick up Samantha when Meg entered the room. "Oh, let me get her, Dana. Hey, Sammi, how's my girl?" Meg asked fondly as she expertly lifted the newborn. Hearing the new voice, Melissa turned toward the sound. "I'm not ignoring you, Missy!" she told the infant. "Do you want me to give them baths this morning, Dana?" "In a little while. I think now they just want to play. I'll go find out what William's up to and grab a bowl of cereal." "He's playing cars in the kitchen," Meg assured her as she carried Samantha downstairs to the living room, followed by Scully carrying Melissa. Both babies were placed on their backs in a soft-sided playpen by the big double window. "I'll watch them, you go get some breakfast." Thirty minutes later, Scully was pouring coffee in a travel mug as Mulder entered the kitchen, dressed in chinos and a polo shirt and looking more like a tennis player than a college professor. "You didn't get breakfast," she said. "Do you want a bagel for the road?" "I'm good. I have to watch those calories. Don't want to disappoint my fan club," he sniggered. She slapped him on the shoulder as she handed him the mug. He took a sip and put it down on the countertop. "So you're going to call Jimmy's son today?" she asked. "And the bank to transfer the money. Should be pretty quick, since we aren't going through a mortgage company. Can you ask MC and Joe about contractors in the area?" "I'll call them this afternoon." She looked out the kitchen window, her eyes becoming shadowed and pensive. "Having second thoughts?" he asked, hugging her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. She smiled at their reflection in the glass of the windowpane. "No. I just didn't think it would be this easy. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop." "We're out of the car, Scully. And both my shoes are on my feet." He kissed the top of her head. "You, however, look really cute barefoot," he whispered as he nuzzled her ear. "Caveman," she accused and gave him another swat, followed by a kiss. "Get to work. Act like you do something for a living," she teased and handed him the mug again. He kissed her one more time and headed for the door. Maggie Scully residence Baltimore, MD June 19, 2004 10:15 am Maggie dumped the dregs of her coffee cup into the sink and rinsed the cup, leaving it to dry on the dish drainer. There was no putting it off any longer. The parish garage sale was in one week and she'd vowed to go through some of the boxes stored in the garage for possible donations. She told herself she wasn't giving up, that even if her daughter returned home someday, the clothes she'd left behind in her apartment would be woefully out of date. Many of the items had been hanging in dry cleaner bags for months before Dana's middle-of-the-night departure, the slim lines if the suits cut for a woman who hadn't given birth. Maggie also knew that many of the suits only served as a reminder of Dana's missing heart, her other half, who had disappeared just as mysteriously. Grabbing some empty boxes, Maggie trudged to the garage, feeling like a soul on the way to the gallows. She remembered doing this activity after her husband had died suddenly, and then again when her oldest daughter had been murdered. Did she really want to do it again? But she had no choice; there was no one else to do the job. She'd kept Dana's apartment for six months after she'd lost track of her daughter. She'd finally given up the lease when the Bureau had decided to put the markers in Arlington Cemetery. Everyone else seemed so determined that Dana Scully had died somewhere in the New Mexico desert, with her former partner by her side. Even John Doggett had been convinced of that truth, or so he'd told her when he'd come by to say he was leaving town. Monica Reyes had written her a note before leaving for New Orleans, but it was more of a thank you than anything else. Only Walter Skinner remained, and Maggie knew that with each passing day Mr. Skinner was losing a bit more of himself. She had sold the furniture immediately. All that remained were clothes and things she'd found in Dana's desk and night stand. She'd tried to sort things and label the boxes, but it hurt so much as she filled each cardboard container that after a while Maggie had just dumped whole drawers in, closed and taped the lids without even examining the contents. The first box must have come from the desk. There was an address book, a DC phone book, several pens and pencils and pads of paper. Some file folders divided the contents and made the box seem like a layer cake. On the bottom was a photo album. Maggie drew in a deep breath and brought it to her lap. The first pages were filled with 8 by 10 glossy black and whites, almost all of them of Fox Mulder. Maggie could tell they were taken at various crime scenes because of the uniformed officers and squad cars in the background. Some of them had Dana with Fox, some were just of Fox alone. One picture had caught him with his head turned, as if someone had just called his name. His eyes were alight with a smile even though his mouth was pressed into a straight line. Maggie would have bet the person who'd called to him was her daughter. Later pictures were of William, and it was more than Maggie to bear. With tears streaming down her face she carefully turned the pages and ran her finger over the plastic surface, as if hoping to connect just a little with her grandson. William in his bassinet, William in his car seat with one shoe off, William squinting into the sun in his stroller on a warm summer day. She'd only known him 9 short months, but his absence left a gapping hole in her heart. Maggie couldn't understand why Dana had given her baby up for adoption. It made even less sense when she remembered how her daughter had hoped and prayed for a child. Maggie closed the album and set it aside, letting loose a prayer for the baby who would now be almost three years old. The next box was much easier and less emotional to sort through. It was filled with kitchen equipment, dishes and flatware. Several boxes with similar items followed. In no time at all, Maggie had more than enough for the garage sale. She carried the boxes out to her car and placed them in the trunk. On her way back into the house, she caught sight of the album. She approached it hesitantly, as if it might reach out and bite her. Finally, she opened the cover and flipped through the pages. Picking one photo of Fox and Dana, she slipped it out of the protective cover. She flipped a few more pages and picked one of a smiling William staring cross-eyed at the camera. She took it out of the album and then placed the album back in the box. She held the two photos close to her heart and went inside the house. She busied herself with household chores, or so she told herself. With just one person to pick up after, there wasn't much to be done. She called a friend who was ill, made a hair appointment for the next day, ate a low-calorie frozen dinner in front of the evening news. She watched some television and at 11 o'clock, she went up to bed. The photos came with her. After she'd donned her nightgown, Maggie took the photos and placed them side-by-side on the nightstand, propped up against a framed snapshot of Bill, Tara and their son Matt. She said a rosary for all her children and grandchildren, then slid beneath the covers. The dream came not long after she'd fallen asleep. Maggie dreamed she was walking down a hallway. The house was unfamiliar, but the walls were brightly painted and the wooden floor was clean and showed little sign of wear. She heard a creaking noise in one of the rooms and walked toward it. The door was just slightly ajar, so she reached out and pushed it open. The occupants didn't bother to look up; it was as if they didn't know she was there. A woman was seated in a rocking chair, rocking slowly, steadily. Maggie stepped into the room and walked toward the woman. The woman was facing a window, and in the reflection caused by a single dim lamp, Maggie saw who it was and gasped. It was Dana! Her hair was cut longer and pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled gently, looking down at something. Maggie followed Dana's gaze and gasped again. Dana was nursing a baby. The tiny person was wrapped in a pink blanket with delicate lace covering satin bunting. A baby girl -- Dana had a baby girl. Maggie couldn't believe her eyes. But then she caught sight of something else in the window. A shadow fell across Dana and caused Maggie to flinch, but when she looked at the source, she smiled. Of course, it was Fox. He was standing just a few feet from Dana, swaying slowly as if dancing to an unheard song. After a moment, Maggie realized that he, too, was holding something. Another blanket. Just then, a tiny head reared back and Fox brought his hand up quickly to catch the neck in his hands as his eyes connected with the infant. He smiled and murmured to the baby, who nuzzled back in Fox's neck. He patted the tiny back and resumed his swaying. Two babies. Fox and Dana had two daughters. Maggie sat up in bed and looked around the bedroom, expecting to see the room she'd been in during her dream. It had all been so real. She was shaking. She forced herself to calm down and got up to get a glass of water. In the stark light of the bathroom, after a few sips of lukewarm water, Maggie looked at her own reflection in the mirror. It had been a dream, but it was more than that. Since she'd been a little girl, her grandmother had told her that she had 'the sight.' Her father had brushed it aside as the ravings of an old woman, but Maggie's mother had remained silent, looking at her only daughter with wistful melancholy. Now the sight was bringing her something she'd prayed for all through the last two years -- news of her daughter. Dana was alive, of that Maggie was certain. She was alive and well and living with Fox. And now, Maggie had two granddaughters. Maggie knew something else -- she had to find them. Hale Household 11:45 pm Mulder was just crawling into bed when it started. A blood curdling scream came from the somewhere down the hallway. Scully sat straight up in bed, blindly searching the nightstand for a gun that wasn't there. Mulder jumped out of bed and was in the hallway before she could untangle herself from the blankets to go after him. She skidded to a stop just inside the door to their son's bedroom. Mulder had turned the little nightlight to a higher illumination and was cradling William in his arms. The little boy was crying inconsolably and gripping his father's shirt, soaking it with his tears. "It's OK, buddy. It's OK; it was just a bad dream. Daddy's here, Daddy's here," Mulder murmured over and over again. Scully swallowed the terror that had engulfed her at the sound of her son's scream and sat down on the bed next to Mulder so that she could rub the boy's back. Mulder smiled at her and kissed William's head. "Look, Will, Mommy's here, too. We could have a party," he joked, trying to get through the boy's anguish. "Sammi! Missy!" William yelped and struggled out of his father's arms, hitting the ground at a dead run out of his room. Scully marveled at how very much the boy looked like his father until she noticed that Mulder was following Will and trying to stop him. She hurried after them, grabbing Mulder's hand. "He has to see for himself. They must have been part of his dream," she told Mulder. He immediately slowed down and nodded. How many nights in the distant past had he dialed a number just to hear her voice after a bad dream? Together, they entered the nursery. Will was darting from one crib to the other, quietly climbing onto the rails to get a better look at the sleeping infants. After checking both cribs a number of times, he dropped to the floor, breathing heavily. Mulder stooped down and scooped the boy into his arms. "C'mon, Will. I think we need some chocolate milk. How does that sound?" Mulder asked in a whisper so he didn't wake the babies. William nodded solemnly and nestled his face onto his father's shoulder. Scully brought up the rear of the parade as they made their way downstairs to the kitchen. In the bright and cheery kitchen, it did look somewhat like a party. William was sipping chocolate milk out of his favorite McDonaldland cup. Mulder had a tall glass of iced tea in front of him, and Scully was sipping on ice water. "Do you want to tell Mommy and Daddy about your dream, buddy? Sometimes it helps to talk about it," Mulder encouraged. He knew dreams at William's age sometimes didn't even take form, but the way the child had been so insistent on seeing his sisters was cause for some concern. "Did anyone talk to you in your dream?" Scully shot him a look across the table. Mulder shook his head slightly to and fro. "The ladies, maybe? The nice ladies who told you the babies' names?" William continued to drink his chocolate milk until the glass was empty. He sat it down with some finality. "I don't remember," he said flatly. "Can I have more?" he asked, shoving his cup over toward Scully. "You don't remember the dream, or you don't remember if the ladies were there?" Mulder prodded. "Can I have some cookies?" he asked his mother. "Honey, Daddy asked you a question," Scully said gently. "Can you tell us about your dream? It's just a dream, sweetheart. It can't hurt you." "He took us away," William said, and his face crumbled into tears. "A bad man took us away from you." In minutes, the small boy was trembling with fear and agony. "Mommy, I don't wanna go 'way! I don't wan' Missy and Sammi to go 'way!" Scully gathered William into her arms and stroked his baby-fine chestnut hair. "Sweetie, no one is going to take you away. I promise. Mommy and Daddy will keep you safe. You and your sisters." It took several minutes of impromptu rocking on the wooden kitchen chair and finally William's little body grew limp in her arms. "He's out," Mulder whispered, picking the boy up and turning him so his head rested on Mulder's shoulder. "I'll put him down." He carried his son up to the boy's bedroom. Scully was straightening the kitchen when he came back downstairs. "Some night, huh?" he asked, leaning against the doorjamb. Scully shot him a sour look. "What? What did I do?" She tossed the sponge into the sink and wiped her hands on the tea towel. She cocked her head and silently led her partner into the living room. Looking at the shelf of DVDs, she selected a few and held them out to him. "Texas Chainsaw Massacre," she read. "Halloween, the original," she said, shuffling the boxes as if they were a deck of cards. "Oh, and my personal favorite: 'Nightmare on Elm Street'!" "Classics, Scully. And don't forget, research. I am teaching a class on the psychology of horror films," he said with a shrug. "And your son just happens to wander through the room when you're doing research, Mulder. It's no wonder the poor kid has nightmares. I want these put up somewhere, far away. Take them to school. You have a DVD in the psych department's office. 'Research' them there," she growled, tossing him the cases. "You're saying that all of a sudden these movies are getting to William? We've had these movies since he was born," Mulder pointed out. "Yes, but we didn't watch them when he was awake," Scully countered. "I never watched them at all!" "I really think there might be . . ." She spun on her heel and headed toward the stairs. "I'm too tired to discuss it right now, Mulder. It was a bad dream. Get rid of those . . . movies, and do it before William wakes up." She hit the bottom of the steps when she heard a muffled noise. "Great, the twins are up," she huffed. "I'll help," Mulder offered, following behind her. "No, you've done quite enough," she snapped. At his hurt look, she softened her expression. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. Look, I'll feed them and tuck them back in. I can sleep late tomorrow, you have class. Go on back to bed." Mulder nodded, and headed to their room, but sleep was a hard fought battle. He couldn't help feeling that there was more to William's dream than a few scary movies. Skinner's apartment Crystal City, VA With his packed bag at his side, Walter Skinner opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and dumped the contents onto the bed. On the wood, between the rails of the drawer bottom, was taped a letter. He removed the envelope and sat down on the floor, not bothering to clean up the mess he'd just made. He vowed to give this letter to Mulder and Scully when it was safe to do so. He'd made that vow entirely to himself. Scully and Mulder believed the whereabouts of their child was completely unknown. Only Walter Skinner knew the lie of that statement. For only Walter Skinner knew the truth. Carefully, he pulled the flap and unsealed the linen paper. He removed the single sheet and unfolded it slowly. Rachel and Henry Van de Kamps Rural Route 1 Low, Utah He studied the paper again, memorizing it, though there wasn't much information. He got up from the floor, walked into the kitchen and struck a match to the paper, holding it over the sink as he watched it burn to cinders. He ran the water to flush the ash down the drain. Calmly, he went back into the bedroom, picked up his suitcase and left his apartment, taking a cab to the airport. Utah, going West from Salt Lake City The directions he'd received at the airport information booth hadn't been much help. The area of Utah was almost totally uninhabited, and at the time, that had seemed appropriate. Now, Skinner wished more than anything that the boy had been placed with a nice family in a large metropolitan area, or at least somewhere easier to find. The narrow dirt road was unmarked. He had to judge by his odometer how many miles from the last intersection. It was hit or miss but it wasn't like there were a dozen roads to choose from. The dirt path was the only break in the side of the road for miles, or at least for the miles since the intersection with the US highway. Skinner turned the car onto the path and wondered how long it would be before he found the Van de Kamp house. There were trees in the distance and he felt a small amount of relief. Trees usually meant water, and often, houses. His heart lightened for a moment. Then he realized he was about to confront two people he'd never met before in his life. How was he going to explain his sudden appearance on their doorstep? How could he tell them that he was afraid their son, the baby they'd adopted two years before was under a threat that might extend to their lives? He'd barely come up with a reasonable cover, that he was an FBI agent checking out a potential lead on a case, when he rounded the corner and slammed on the brakes. The sight before him took his breath away. Walter Skinner slowly shut off the engine to the car, opened the door and carefully got out. A heavy gray cloud surrounded the charred remains of the house. As the wind shifted, Skinner immediately recognized the smell of burned wood mixed with other noxious odors. He walked slowly toward the former residence. An apple tree, small green apples still hanging from the branches farthest away from the blaze, was a surreal expression of the conflagration. Closer to the house, the branches were stripped of all vegetation, black and brittle. He doubted the tree would survive the assault; it would probably die before the end of the summer. If he had any doubts about the owners of the house, the mailbox erased them. Set out closer to the driveway, the black box with the standard red flag had escaped the destruction. In gold leaf adhesive- backed letters read 'The Van de Kamps, Rural Route 1'. Skinner's throat closed up and his eyes burned with unshed tears. He'd been too late. How could he face Margaret Scully, knowing that he could have stopped this tragedy if he'd only gotten there sooner? He swallowed bile in his throat and let out his anguish in deep shudders. The hand that fell on his shoulder was such a shock that he reached for his gun and took a bead on the young man standing beside him. The young man held up his hands in surrender and calmly shook his head. "The baby wasn't here, they already got him," the young man said with measured, even tones, as if talking to a madman. "What?" Skinner demanded. "Who took him? Where is he?" "Mulder and Scully. His parents. They found him, two years ago," the young man said with an easy smile. Skinner narrowed his gaze. "How could they? Scully didn't know anything about the adoption," he ground out. "Mulder brought her. He dreamed something, he knew where to go. I'm telling you the truth, William wasn't here." "Who the hell are . . ." Walter stopped his demand in mid-sentence, taking a closer look. The kid's hair was lighter, he now sported a partial beard that was so popular with the young 'in-crowd', but there was no mistaking those eyes. "Gibson?" Skinner asked. The young man nodded and his smile grew by leaps and bounds. "I wasn't sure if you remembered me. Mind putting the gun away?" he asked, gesturing to the weapon Skinner still held clutched in his hand. Skinner looked down at his hand and back at Gibson. "How can I . . ." A look of sad resignation came to the young man's face. He slipped his hand into his front pocket and produced a small penknife, no longer than an inch and a half. With a half grimace, he sliced a neat cut along the center of his left palm and held the hand up for Skinner to inspect. "It's really me," he said quietly as red blood trickled down his palm and wrist. "Thank God," Skinner muttered, holstering his weapon. "Wait, you better . . ." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and helped Gibson wrap it around his hand. "I'm sorry you had to do that." "I'm sorry it's necessary," Gibson said with regret. "But you need to believe me. They found the baby just a day after the left you. They've been safe all this time." "How do you know this? Have you been in contact with them?" Gibson shook his head in the negative. "I just, well, I just know." "You can read their minds?" Skinner asked, unconsciously wincing as he said the words. Gibson chewed on his lip. "Not exactly. I mean, when Mulder lived with us, I could read him like a book. It was a pretty sad book, if you know what I mean. He missed Scully and the baby a lot. But then, after he left, it was like I was connected somehow. Like I knew when he was in trouble. That's why I came out to DC in the first place, because I knew what they were planning to do to him. So I can't read his mind, but I can tell you that he's a lot happier now, happier than I think I've ever known him to be. And I'm positive that Agent Scully and William are with him, or he would never be that happy." The young man shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of self- explanation. Skinner surveyed the remains of the house again. "You say they got the baby not long after they escaped? Kersh told them to go north," he said, more to himself than to Gibson. Gibson sighed. "I know. Mulder didn't listen. I knew that's what he was planning the last time I saw them, but if I'd said anything, well, you know how it was. I knew he was going to New Mexico. I lost track of his thoughts when they'd been gone about an hour. But I could still get that feeling, that connection. It was a couple of days later, I woke up and just knew he was happy. A little scared, I'll admit. But really, really happy. And that's pretty much how it's been." "This fire was recently set," Skinner said, looking at the still smoking ruins. "The house was abandoned," Gibson said. "You know that for certain?" The young man nodded. "I don't think the adoptive parents were alive when Mulder and Scully got here to get the baby. I don't know what happened, but no one has been here for a long time." "But someone was here looking for William," Skinner said firmly. "Yes, I think they were. I think they still are looking for him," Gibson added. "Any clue as to where I can look?" Skinner growled impatiently. All this back story was getting him nowhere, but at least he was fairly confident William was with his parents, and they were safe. Gibson sadly shook his head. "I wish I could help." After a few minutes of looking around, Skinner realized he wouldn't find any information at the house. He turned to the rental car and noticed Gibson's Yamaha motorcycle parked next to it. "I didn't even hear you pull up," he said in confusion. "I walked it the last mile. I wasn't sure what I would find. Then I saw you. I didn't want to scare you." "Where are you going now?" Skinner asked. "Back to the reservation, I suppose. I came because I had some bad dreams lately. Those men, the ones who aren't alive . . ." "They're being killed off, destroyed, whatever," Skinner told him. "I know. But I don't know who's doing it. It could be a good thing, having them dead," Gibson said hopefully. "Or someone much worse could be killing off the competition," Skinner said tensely. Gibson nodded in agreement. "Will you be all right going back?" Skinner asked. "I mean, if they're looking for William . . ." "They were never interested in me, only our own people wanted me. The others think I'm just a blip, a fluke. William has the real power they're worried about. I can read minds; William can destroy their plans. If they don't destroy him first." Skinner nodded, is face set in determination. "We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen." "You're going to hunt for the rest of them, the ones from Mulder's jury," Gibson said dully. "I have no other choice. Maybe along the way, I'll find Mulder and Scully." "I hope not," Gibson said. "If you do, they'll be dead." Before Skinner could object, Gibson got on his motorcycle and peeled out of the driveway, down the dirt road. After a minute, Skinner got in his rental car and followed. Salt Lake City International Airport Salt Lake City, UT 5:30 pm Kallenbrunner picked up on the second ring. "What have you got?" he asked, not even waiting for Skinner to announce himself. Skinner figured the man must have given his cell phone number a special ring. "I had to make a side trip, but it was unproductive. Have any more -- " "The one in New Mexico. Yesterday afternoon. He left for lunch, never came back. Just like the others. My boss is getting nervous." Skinner considered that a moment. "Do you think he'll make a run for it?" "I don't think he would know where to run," Kallenbrunner replied. "Are you coming out here?" "Yeah, I'm on a flight out in an hour and a half." "I'll pick you up. What time does your flight arrive?" "Kallenbrunner, you don't -- " "What time, Skinner? And the flight number? Look, this isn't a social call. I'm just looking out for my own sorry ass here," the former pseudo-prosecutor reminded him. "Arrival time is 7:35, Pacific. I'm on Delta 4391." Skinner could hear Kallenbrunner fumbling for a pen. "Got it. I'll meet you at the gate." Skinner waited at in the passenger lounge until his flight was called. Once on board the plane, he let himself think back to his conversation with Gibson. Could it be true? Could Mulder and Scully be alive, safe, with William? He didn't think it was possible, not after two years. He closed his eyes and fell into a light doze. He hadn't slept well since the whole business had started. Los Angeles International Airport 7:45 pm Kallenbrunner was as good as his word. He was at the gate and shepherded Skinner out to his car, which was parking in hourly parking. "I know a little place not far from here," he said as he pulled out of the parking garage. "How did you hear about Hanson?" Skinner asked when they settled in at the bar in North Hollywood. "My boss got a fax. Apparently after the others went missing in DC they started keeping in better contact. But he didn't do anything. Left the office at the same time as usual tonight." Skinner took a pull off his Coors and set it back on the table. "What do you think is going on?" Kallenbrunner barked out a laugh. "Why ask me? I was a pawn in that little drama, Skinner. I didn't know a goddamned thing two years ago, and I sure as hell don't know anything now." "You knew Mulder was innocent, didn't you?" Skinner accused. The other man's expression grew hard. "I was given an assignment. I did it to the best of my ability. Look, Skinner, I know you aren't a lawyer, but you're ex- military, right?" "Former Marine," Skinner replied. "Then you know exactly what I was ordered to do. I've been a prosecutor. I left that to join the FBI. But in my old life, I was good at picking them out, the innocent from the guilty. I could tell by the way they held themselves, the way they looked at you when they were brought into the courtroom. If you want my confession, here it is. Yes, I knew Mulder was innocent. And I knew that in all probability, Agent Scully was telling the truth on that witness stand, or at least the truth as she knew it. But that wasn't my assignment. I was supposed to poke holes in that case and make sure Mulder was found guilty." "They planned on killing him anyway. You just made sure no one would look into the murder," Skinner spat out. "He's not dead!" Kallenbrunner yelled and then realized where he was and that others were listening. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself. "He's alive. He escaped, which makes him a wanted criminal. Most likely with your help, judging from your recent change of positions," he added, taking a drink from his own bottle of beer. "There are no charges against him listed in the NCIC," Skinner pointed out. "I don't know what to tell you. Maybe it's just on the military database," Kallenbrunner suggested. At Skinner's roll of the eyes, the younger man relented. "OK, so they probably weren't real charges. What difference does it make now?" "I think . . . I think their baby could be in danger," Skinner said evenly. "She gave him up for adoption," Kallenbrunner said, slightly confused. "I was at the house of the adoptive parents. It was burned to the ground. No sign of anyone." Kallenbrunner closed his eyes and opened them slowly. "What makes you think the boy wasn't inside?" "A friend. A friend in a position to know such things. He believes Mulder and Scully got the boy immediately after we all lost track of them two years ago. He thinks they've been hiding out somewhere, together." "Where? You can warn them of what's going on!" Skinner shook his head. "My friend didn't have that information." "Shit," Kallenbrunner swore. "What do we do now?" "Wait. Watch. Your boss, this Galbraith, he's the best chance we have to draw this bastard out." Kallenbrunner nodded. "OK, let's go. There's a motel not far from the office. I can drop you off there, pick you up sometime tomorrow." Skinner shrugged in agreement and picked up his bags, following the other man out to his car. Traffic was light as they drove through the streets. They were passing the FBI regional office when Kallenbrunner saw something down a side street. He pulled to a stop at the curb. "Do you have your weapon handy?" he asked Skinner. "Yeah, why?" the older man asked as they both existed the car. "I just saw Galbraith coming out of that restaurant. It looked like a guy had just stopped him and they disappeared down that alley." "Why is it always an alley?" Skinner asked of no one, but headed off after Kallenbrunner at a trot. "Down there," the younger man said as they approached the end of the alley. Two men were plainly visible in the security light from one of the businesses. Suddenly, something in the one man's hands flashed and the other man crumbled. "Damn it! That's Galbraith!" Kallenbrunner yelled and took off at a run. Skinner, noting the other man had been alerted and was heading down the alley, ran after him. "Call for backup," Skinner yelled at Kallenbrunner as he passed him. "Oh, shit, oh god!" Kallenbrunner was moaning. The man who had been his boss was slowly melting into a pool of green bubbling ooze. "What the hell? Skinner, what is going on?" he shouted after the older agent. "Back up!" Skinner called again over his shoulder. The alley ended and the killer hit the street, running down the middle for a block until he came to another alley. Skinner kept on his tail, gaining a little and then losing ground. Off in the distance, he heard sirens and just hoped he could hold out long enough for them to find him -- and the perpetrator! Just when he thought he'd lost the man, Skinner caught sight of him crossing the street a block down. Swallowing the lump that was growing from the lack of moisture in his throat and pushing his legs past what he knew they could do, he put on a burst of speed and followed the killer down another alley. He ran halfway down the alleyway when he realized it was a dead end. Stopping, he listened. The only sound was a dripping drainpipe and the hum of electricity from the overhead transformers. He could hear shouts in the distance; the sirens had stopped, indicating that Kallenbrunner's back up had arrived, but was probably pursuing on foot. Slowly, Skinner turned around in a circle, searching the alley for any sign of his prey. Dumpsters lined one side and made for perfect hiding places in the dark shadows. It had been a while since he'd tracked a perp. He'd been riding a desk too damned long, he decided. Then again, he reconsidered; maybe it was about time to hang up his spurs, too. Movement off to his left caught his attention. He'd drawn his weapon six blocks before so he brought it up to sighting level and trained it on the sound. A rat, nice and fat, sashayed across a puddle of an unidentifiable substance and continued down the alley unhindered. Skinner drew in a breath through his nose and went back to searching. He took three steps forward, coming to within a few feet of one of the dumpsters. With his weapon trained in his right hand, he reached out with his left and lifted the plastic cover of the bin. Nothing. He shuffled over to his right and repeated the process. Again, just garbage greeted him. He was starting toward the third dumpster when he heard a sound from behind and spun around. The blow knocked his glasses clean off his face. The world went blurry and flashed bright all at the same time. He could feel himself falling, could feel the cold, wet pavement underneath his knees and then he was down the rest of the way, coming to rest in a puddle of brownish grey liquid that smelled of rancid milk and bad lettuce. Someone was standing over him, and then kneeling beside him. He felt a hand at his neck, checking for a pulse. Blearily, Skinner tried to raise his head. "Go home, Mr. Skinner. Before you get hurt," came a graveled voice from above. This time, Skinner could almost make out the object as it came down hard and fast toward his head, but there was not a thing he could have done to avoid it. As his world went black, Skinner hoped he lived to take the killer's advice. Mt. Sinai Medical Center Los Angeles, CA 9:00 am How much had he drunk? That was the first question that popped into Skinner's mind when he started waking. Whatever he'd had, it must have been a doozy! His head was reeling with pain and he was afraid to open his eyes, but he could hear noises that confused him. It sounded like wheels of a cart, one in desperate need of oiling, and sneakers on tile. Those were not the sounds he was accustomed to waking up to in his apartment. Curiosity beat out fear and he cracked open his left eye. Too blurry to make out much, but there was someone standing above his bed. That prompted him to crack open the other eye and blink away some of the blur. Where the hell were his glasses? "Well, Mr. Skinner! Nice of you to join us," a woman in bright blue scrubs said cheerfully. "Just let me get your vitals. The doctor will be in to see you shortly." Skinner squinted at the woman. "Where . . . where are my glasses?" he rasped. The woman laughed merrily. "That's a first. Usually people want to know where they are when they wake up in the hospital. Your friend is just outside; maybe he knows what happened to them. You were brought in by ambulance. You have a concussion. Now, just lie back and let me finish and I'll let your friend back in." Skinner did as she requested, but couldn't help wondering who the 'friend' was. He was extremely disoriented. The last thing he could remember was having lunch with Kim. No, that wasn't right. He'd gone on a trip. Where did he go? Thinking was just making his head hurt. "All done. You're doing fine. Just rest and the doctor will be in before you know it. I'll let your friend in now to keep you company." He could just make out the woman's form as she exited the room. Another shape entered and walked up to his bedside. "You're looking better than you did last night," Kallenbrunner said. Suddenly, more of the events of the last few days came back to him. Kallenbrunner . . . he was meeting him in LA. "Galbraith!" Skinner exclaimed and tried to sit up, but fell back when the pain washed over him. Kallenbrunner put a hand on his shoulder and pressed him further into the pillow. "The doctor was pretty worried last night. Said a guy your age has no business doing field work," he said, barely suppressing a smirk. "You need to lie still." "What happened? What happened to Galbraith?" Skinner demanded, but this time, stayed put. The younger man licked his lips. "I . . . I don't know. It was . . . strange." "Strange how? Just tell me damn it!" "He melted, OK? He just . . . melted, into a pile of goo that bubbled and then it disappeared. It was . . . it couldn't have happened, but I saw it. It had to have been a fast acting acid -- " "I've heard of this before," Skinner said, taking a deep breath. "You've heard of it?" Kallenbrunner said with suspicion. "Where?" "In a report by Agent Mulder. Actually, in several reports. And not just Mulder, Scully reported similar findings. The 'goo', as you put it, ate a hole through one of her shoes," he added, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "She requested reimbursement." "For the shoes? After seeing something like that, she had the gall to ask for reimbursement for her _shoes_?" Skinner shrugged. "They were nice shoes," he said casually. "And for the record, it wasn't acid. It was alien blood." "Oh Jesus -- not that again! Skinner, you aren't going to get me to buy into this alien conspiracy take over the world bullshit that Mulder and Scully tried to pull at the trial. I'm not that gullible!" "So, was there anything left to be analyzed?" Skinner asked glibly. Kallenbrunner took a deep breath and found the bedrail very interesting. "No. Nothing. Forensics found nothing." "An acid, even a fast acting acid, would leave trace evidence," Skinner pointed out. "Maybe they just looked in the wrong place," Kallenbrunner huffed. "Fine, believe whatever you want. The fact of the matter is your boss, the last of the jury, is dead." "You chased the killer. Did you get a good look at him?" Skinner squinted again, but not from blurry eyesight. "I didn't, not really. I mean I saw him; he was the one that cold cocked me. He said something . . ." He trailed off, concentrating hard on the events of the night before. His head was killing him. Then, he remembered. His head jerked up and he tried to focus on Kallenbrunner. "He told me to go home, before I got hurt." "You shittin' me," Kallenbrunner said dryly. "No, I'm not. He could have killed me, but he didn't." Kallenbrunner slumped against the bed rail. "So what does this mean? Are we safe? You and me? Or just you," he asked, his voice accusing. "You think I'm in on this?" Skinner charged back. "What the hell do you -- " "Hey, time out! What's going on in here?" asked a gentleman in dusty blue green scrubs as he pushed open the door to the room. "Mr. Skinner, it's not a good idea to get so agitated after a head injury." The man walked up to the bed, moving Kallenbrunner aside. "If you don't mind waiting in the hall, this will just take a few minutes." As soon as Kallenbrunner left, the man extended his hand to Skinner. "Stephen Hatfield, I'm the neuro resident who saw you when you came in last night. Mind if I take a look?" Skinner nodded. As the young man examined Skinner's eyes with a pen light, causing bright star burst of pain, he asked a few questions. "Do you have a headache, Mr. Skinner?" "I do now," Skinner gritted out. "Dizziness?" Skinner shook his head, but did it slowly to avoid more pain. "Blurred or double vision?" "I have no idea. I've lost my glasses," Skinner growled. "Oh, well, we can check your clothes, see if the paramedics stuck them in a pocket. Your x ray looked good this morning. You have a mild to moderate concussion. I'd like to keep you till tonight, see how you do. Then we'll release you. But you should go home and rest for a few days." "Home is on the other side of the continent, Doctor." Hatfield frowned. "Maybe you should consider a short vacation before you go back home. You really shouldn't be traveling with a head injury." Skinner's mind flashed to Mulder, in a similar condition after Scully had been stung by a bee and abducted. "I'll take that under advisement," Skinner said evenly, but had no intentions of sticking around longer than necessary. When the doctor left the room, Kallenbrunner came back in. "Uh, I guess you'll be needing these?" he asked, holding out Skinner's glasses. Gingerly, he took them from the other agent's outstretched hand and fitted them on his face. Only one small scratch marred the surface and that was in the far left corner of the left lens. "Wow, they made it out better than I did," Skinner remarked. "And these aren't all that I need. I'll need a motel room for the night, maybe a couple of nights." "What next?" Kallenbrunner asked warily. "I guess I go back to DC," Skinner said dejectedly. "The last lead was Galbraith." "I got to thinking about what the killer said to you. How did he know your name?" Skinner drew in a breath and gave that question some thought. "I don't know. I've never seen him before. But then, maybe I have and I just didn't recognize him." "Can you give a description? I could get a sketch artist in here," Kallenbrunner offered. "I didn't get a good look, he knocked my glasses off before I could see his face. But I can give a description of his body type, that sort of thing. Might help." "Somehow I don't think this guy is one of the usual suspects the LAPD rounds up every night," Kallenbrunner said with a sigh. "I suspect you're right. I also don't think he's on the Ten Most Wanted. Besides, he may not look like that the next time we see him." "You think he'd try to disguise himself," Kallenbrunner said with a frown. "If what I've heard is right, he doesn't need a disguise. He'll just change his whole appearance. His face, his hair, his build. He can look like anyone he wants, the guy walking down the street toward him, you, me . . ." "I saw this movie. Wasn't Dana Carvey the lead?" Kallenbrunner quipped, not hiding his incredulity. Skinner set his jaw and glared back. "Look, asshole, I'm trying to help you," he seethed. "By telling me I should look for a guy who can make himself look like anyone? That's a hell of a lot of help there, Skinner," the younger man chuffed. "I can't wait to see what the APB will read. 'Could be anybody'." "We'll have to wait till he makes his next move." "He obviously knows you. And he told you to go home. Maybe that's where you shouldn't go," Kallenbrunner said after a moment. "That's why I want to go to a motel. I'll figure something out," Skinner replied tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with one hand, his head was killing him. "Look, I think I probably should get some sleep here. If you don't mind -- " "Do you think I should stick around, stand guard?" Kallenbrunner asked, genuinely concerned. Skinner shook his head slowly; he'd learned his lesson earlier. "No need. You should go to the office. See what's going on; see if they found anything in that alley. I'll be fine." "I'll be by later, to take you to that motel," the younger man said and left. Skinner watched the closed door for a few minutes and then took off his glasses and drifted off to sleep. Ramada Limited LAX 9:35 pm The room was on the ground floor, and Skinner could have kissed the clerk for her kindness. He'd forgotten completely how bad headaches got with concussions. Of course, it had been a few years since he'd had a concussion. A few bruises, thanks to some run ins with Krycek. Bruised jaws, courtesy of Holly in Accounting and Mulder on LSD laced water. But for a concussion he had to go all the way back to his early days at the gym and a sparring partner who thought helmets were for sissies. Waking up in the hospital convinced Skinner he was just enough of a sissy to wear a helmet in the future. Kallenbrunner had dropped him off in the lobby, saying he'd be back for him in the morning. No news to report on the Galbraith investigation. For that matter, there was no investigation. Skinner shook his head at the news, but wasn't that surprised. For whatever reason, the government wasn't making a stink over these disappearances. He wondered if they'd made any investigation at all, covert or otherwise. Maybe the powers there were decided they were better off not knowing. But Skinner wanted to know and he wasn't going to leave until he found out. He sat down on the bed and slowly worked the knot out of his tie. Suit and tie man, that's what Sharon had called him years ago, when they were first dating. He just felt comfortable in a tie; unlike other guys he knew who couldn't get out of them fast enough. Rising from the bed, he decided to take a shower, even though the kindly doctor had cautioned him to take baths for a few days to avoid getting dizzy and falling in the bathroom. He wasn't that much of a sissy, yet. The water felt wonderful as it ran over his sore body. The concussion had kept him in the hospital for observation, but when he'd taken off the stupid gown he discovered all the bruises he'd acquired as he'd fallen in the alley. Nice, multicolored markings all over his body. He sighed loudly. He was getting too old for this shit. "Go home, Mr. Skinner. Before you get hurt." The words of the Bounty Hunter -- that's what he was, wasn't he -- came back to Skinner as he stood under the hot spray. He should be dead, but he wasn't. The Hunter could have killed him on the spot. What the hell was going on? He wished, not for the first time in the last two years, that he could turn to Mulder or Scully and ask that question. Mulder would rattle off some weird alien-government conspiracy bullshit and Scully would try to counter that with scientific mumbo-jumbo, but at least he'd have a semblance of an answer between them. Now, with just himself to ask, he felt like he was sliding down a fast moving river headed for the rapids and certain death just ahead. He turned off the water and grabbed two towels. He thought briefly about shaving but decided he was just too tired to put a sharp object against his throat. He let the bathroom door open and walked into the bedroom in a cloud of steam. He remembered taking his glasses off in the bathroom and stepped back in to retrieve them when his foot caught on something on the floor. He stooped to pick it up. It was a manila envelope, letter-sized. After putting on his glasses, he carried the envelope over to the bed and sat down to open it. There was no marking on the outside, no 'to' or 'from'. The thought crosses his mind that maybe he shouldn't open it, maybe it was a bomb, but he shoved down his trepidation and tore the flap. Inside there was a single sheet of paper and a newspaper clipping. He set the clipping aside and looked at the full sheet of paper. It looked like the worksheet for a deed. It had been faxed at least once, was not straight on the page, but he found it easy enough to read. Owners names: G. Ellery and Dana Hale. The woman's name caught his attention immediately and he drew in a quick breath. He was aware that Mulder had several aliases, all supplied by the now deceased Lone Gunmen. Could G. Ellery be yet another of his names? The more he sat with the paper, the more it called out to him. He picked up the clipping and scanned it. It was from the Mt. Airy Weekly Independent, dated May 21, 2004. "Births, Alexandria, MT. Twin girls, born May 19, 2004 to Ellery and Dana Hale. Babies join older brother, William, aged 3. The family resides in rural Alexandria." Could it be? He grabbed the other paper, the house was described with a township address, it must be rural, and it was in Alexandria, Montana. The deed was for June 23. Skinner's mouth went dry. Two years without a scrap of evidence, without a single lead, and now this. He knew as well as he knew his own name that he'd found Mulder and Scully. He frowned when he realized that by keeping her name and William's name the couple had left them selves open to discovery. William! Skinner felt a laugh bubble up in his throat. They found him. They had him with them! He looked at the clipping again. Obviously they felt comfortable enough where they were to continue the family they'd already started. Twin girls. What a handful! Mulder had even decided to put down roots, buy a home. Skinner's head was reeling with the implications. Then, the other shoe dropped. Someone had given him this information, but whom? Gibson? Skinner thought back to his last conversation with the young man just a few days before. Gibson said he could feel that Mulder was happy, happier than he'd ever felt before. Well, the papers in Skinner's hands lent credence to that possibility. But had Gibson found them? No, if it had been Gibson, the young man would have come himself to tell Skinner. If it weren't safe to come to the motel, Gibson would have found a way to catch up with Skinner at another time. The young man didn't go in for the 'cloak and dagger/under the door' technique. He closed his eyes in agony when he realized who might have given him this information. What if the Bounty Hunter knew where they were? Shoving the paper and the clipping back in the envelope, Skinner walked over to his bag on the floor and grabbed out clothes, dressing quickly. Suddenly, he wasn't really that tired. He called down to the front desk and asked about the nearest rental car agency. They informed him that it was at the airport, and the airport shuttle could take him there. He thanked the night clerk and told the girl he would be checking out in half an hour. He decided to call Kallenbrunner in the morning. There was no use alerting him when there was a chance the agent would try to talk him out of going. Since his bag was packed, for the most part, he gathered the clothes he'd discarded in the bathroom and looked around the room. The envelope was hastily tucked into the outer pocket of his suitcase. Should he call Maggie? Skinner's gut clenched when he thought of how excited and happy Maggie would be at this news. But he couldn't tell her until he was sure. He felt the need to get to Montana as quickly as possible. Once there, he could call her, or have Dana call her. In a little over two hours, he was turned off Interstate 10 on to Interstate 15, heading north. Salt Lake City, Utah I-15 rest area 8:05 am Skinner had stopped for breakfast at a McDonald's but the coffee wasn't enough to keep his eyes open any longer. Not wanting to stay off the road for long, he'd pulled into a rest area just outside Salt Lake City and had closed his eyes for a bit. He woke up to the ring of his cellphone. "Skinner," he answered wearily. He then remembered he'd neglected to call Kallenbrunner, who was probably at the motel wondering where the hell he'd run off. "Walter?" came the voice on the other end of the line. "Walter, it's Maggie, Maggie Scully. I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Instantly alert, Skinner sat up straighter in the seat. "Mrs. Scully, hello. No, you didn't wake me, I was, uh, just . . ." "I called your office but they said you were on vacation. I'm sorry if I disturbed you." "No, that's quite all right. What can I do for you?" There was silence on the line and Skinner almost thought he'd lost the connection. "Maggie?" "I . . . it's silly. I shouldn't have bothered you," she said quickly. "No, no it's not. You're not bothering me. Maggie, what's wrong?" he asked gently. For some reason his mind flashed to Scully and how fragile she looked after they had buried Mulder. "Please, tell me what's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong, really. I just . . . I had a dream, you see. I was cleaning out some of Dana's things and I . . ." He bit his lip when he figured out that she was crying. "It's all right, you can tell me," he encouraged. "I dreamed about Dana. About Dana and Fox. I dreamed they were safe." He sighed in relief. "That's good," he said. "That's a good thing to dream about." "But there was more," Maggie insisted. "I saw them with two little babies, newborns. I think, I think they may have -- " He ached with the need to tell her, but knew it was too soon. "Maggie, I have to go. I'm sorry. But I'm really happy you called. You hang on to that dream, OK? Just keep praying and hopefully soon you'll find what you're looking for." "I hope so, Walter. I hope so with all my heart," Maggie said, sniffing back tears. "Well, you have a nice vacation. You've earned it." "Thanks," he replied guiltily. "I'll call you soon, OK?" "Yes, thank you. Take care," Maggie said. "You, too," he replied and disconnected the phone. Suddenly, he wasn't so tired anymore. Putting the phone back in his pocket, he pulled the car out onto the highway and headed north toward Montana. He thought about the best approach. Should he show up at their door? It would be late, more than likely. He didn't want to scare Scully, not with three little kids in the house. He decided to do some checking first. Now that he had a name, he could get farther. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket again and hit some buttons. Thankfully, not everyone in the Bureau hated him. "Kim, it's Walter. Could you do me a favor? I need you to ask Danny to do some research. It needs to be kept quiet." "Walter, you're alive! When I hadn't heard from you in a few days . . ." The guilt hit him harder than he expected. "I'm fine, Kim. I'm sorry I worried you." "That's all right. Have you found anything?" she asked. "I'm on the trail of a lead right now. I just need some work history on someone. Ask Danny to see what he can find on a G. Ellery Hale, resides in Alexandria, Montana." "Sure thing. Should I have him call you on your cell phone?" Skinner bit his lip. "Or you could call me back with it," he offered. He tried, but couldn't ignore the urge to hear her voice again. Her voice sounded lighter when she answered. He could almost hear her smile. "Sure, I can do that. I should have something for you in a couple of hours. Are you driving?" "Yeah, I am." "Oh, well, I can't fax you anything, then. But I'll call as soon as I have something. Be careful, OK?" "I will, Kim. And thanks . . . for everything." "You're welcome, Walter. I'll call you soon." Hale Household 9:06 am Father and son were in the backyard, amid a glorious summer morning. The yard had been transformed recently. Although considerable lumber and construction equipment was taking up the front yard, the backyard now looked like a Little League Baseball camp, complete with paced off bases. Mulder and William stood on the pitchers mound. "OK, sport, now Dad wants to teach you the fine art of the knuckleball," Mulder said with a wink as he knelt down beside his son. "Chuckleball," William repeated incorrectly, but with all the seriousness of the answer to a question on an orals review. "Knuckle, William. Knuckleball. See, see how Daddy has his knuckles right up against the ball? And when you throw the ball, it doesn't spin so it flies funny. Like this," he said, giving the ball a pitch and the two, father and son, watched it wobble through the air toward the net backstop Mulder had ordered from the internet. "See? Did you see how it went all wiggy? The pitcher won't know what's coming at him. He'll think it's going way over out of his strike zone so he won't swing at it." William nodded solemnly. "Can I try, Daddy?" "Sure thing, son. Here, just give me your hand." Mulder took the small boy's hand and tried to fashion the fingers around the Rawlings leather ball in the traditional knuckle grip, but soon discovered there was a growth issue involved. William's toddler hands were small and the fingers were still too stubby to get around the ball. "Well, maybe we'll have to practice it on a tennis ball for a while. Let's go find one of those fuzzy green balls Mommy uses when she plays with Aunt Mary." "Are you intending on going to class today?" Scully called from the back door to the kitchen. "Aw, Mom. Can't you call me in sick?" Mulder shot back with a wide grin. Scully made a face at him and retreated back into the kitchen. "Daddy, are you sick?" William asked anxiously as he looked up at his father. "No, buddy, no. I just wanted to play hooky. Stay home and play with you," Mulder answered truthfully, then realized that probably wasn't the best answer because it might lead to more questions. "But you have to teach class so the students can learn," William countered, his expression just as solemn as when he was concentrating on the knuckleball technique. "I know, I know. But sometimes, when the day is this pretty and warm and you've got a good friend to play with -- " "I'm the good friend, right?" Will asked hopefully. "You're my best friend, buddy," Mulder answered, lifting his son up into his arms. "You and your Mom and your sisters. You are all my best friends. My best friends and my family. I love you so much," he added, hugging the boy close. "You're my best friend, Daddy," William agreed. They made their way into the kitchen, which was organized chaos at that moment. Meg had Sammi in the infant bathtub on the kitchen table, the baby was cooing as she splashed in the water. Scully was sitting at the table, talking to Missy, who was nursing again. Occasionally a workman would come through to fill his coffee thermos and head back to the construction on the far end of the house. "You'd been get moving or you'll be late," Scully warned. "It's already after 9." "I'm always the first one there," Mulder pointed out as he started to fill his own travel mug with coffee but noticed the carafe only had half a cup. "What happened to the coffee?" "I can't have all those men working back there and not offer them coffee," Scully said as if it were perfectly self-evident. "Here, you can take the rest of mine." "It's decaf," Mulder whined. "And you put milk in it," he added with a frown. "I made a new pitcher of tea just a few minutes ago. It's in the fridge," Meg offered with a grin. "You're a life saver, Meggie," Mulder told her and went about filling his travel mug with iced tea. William came up behind Mulder and hugged him around the legs. "Play hooky, Daddy," he begged. "I would, buddy, but I really need to get to class. You can stay and play with Meg. How does that sound?" "Meggie's my friend," Will told his father. "And you are my friend," Meg told the little boy with a smile. "This is just a very friendly place," Mulder pronounced and looked around for his briefcase, which he finally found next to the front door. Scully was behind him, carrying Missy, who was still nursing. "Doesn't that hurt, doing that while you're walking?" Mulder asked with a wince. "Not at all. As a matter of fact, Mulder, women long ago used to carry their babies with them into the fields as they worked." He leaned in close, so that only Scully could hear. "Bet you couldn't autopsy like that," he said with a smirk. "Try me," she countered with a self-satisfied grin and gave him a kiss goodbye. "I will, later. I'm late. Love you!" he called as he bounded down the front porch steps. It was a forty minute drive on a nice day, when Mulder was fairly certain the Montana Highway Patrol wasn't watching, so he made it just in time to get to his class and set up the projector and DVD. Soon, the classroom was filled with students, mostly girls, he now noted after his conversation with Scully a few mornings before. "All right people, wipe the sleep out of your eyes, break out the jujubes and Mike and Ikes, we have a classic on our hands. I found '13 Ghosts' -- the original, not that crummy remake, on Netflix the other night. Remember, we're analyzing the plot -- " "Plot? What plot?" joked a tan young man in the second row. "Very funny, Mr. Andrews," Mulder retorted in a perfect deadpan. "If you can keep your eyes off Ms. Halstrom halter top and up here on the screen for the length of the movie, I think you will find that there is indeed a plot, and a pretty complex one. Mr. Bailey, if you would be so kind as to hit the lights?" An hour and a half later, there was a loud gasp as Mulder turned off the DVD right at a particularly suspenseful moment. "That's all the time we have today, kiddies. We'll finish this up on Thursday." "Dr. Hale, has anyone ever told you that you're a sadist?" asked the young Mr. Andrews. "If you're that into the movie, Jared, just rent it. Or better yet, show up on Thursday. Seems like you have a problem getting to both classes during the week," Mulder said, folding his arms. "I work on Wednesday nights," the young man admitted with a blush. "I only oversleep on Thursdays." "Hey, I tended bar to get through college, too. I know it's rough, but sometimes you just have to drag your sorry -- butt -- out of bed and get to class, ya know," Mulder commiserated. A young lady with a flower tube top and cut off jeans waited for him at the door. "Dr. Hale, I lost my syllabus," she said with a sorrowful expression. "Did I just give you one last week, Lindsay?" Mulder asked as he walked down the hall of the academic building, with the girl trailing behind him. "You did, but I put it in my car and I think my little brother made it into spit ball. I need another one," she said with a hopeful smile. Mulder shook his head and opened the door to the English Department offices. The Department secretary, Miss Jenkins, looked up quickly when they entered the room. "Lindsay needs another syllabus, Miss Jenkins," Mulder said as he headed toward the little office that was assigned to him and another professor. "Dr. Hale, when you have a minute?" Miss Jenkins said formally. Mulder was still getting used to Miss Jenkins. He suspected the woman was older than many of the buildings on campus. The professor he shared his office with had jokingly said the old bat was actually the ghost of the former Department secretary who simply refused to leave her post. He dropped his briefcase on his desk and grimaced. Whenever he had to deal with Miss Jenkins he could never shake the feeling he was being called to the principal's office. Or called on the carpet in Skinner's office. That thought caused a twinge in his chest. He'd never burdened Scully, but she wasn't the only one who sometimes missed their old life. He often wondered how AD Skinner had fared since their last meeting, provided the man had even survived the backlash that had caused the disappearance of DD Kersh from the FBI org chart he'd found on line. He'd noticed that AD Skinner's name was not among the phone listings. That saddened him more than he was willing to admit. "Dr. Hale?" Miss Jenkins called. He realized he'd been woolgathering while the 'old bat' was waiting. It was time to face the music. "Yes, Miss Jenkins? If it's about replacing the carafe to the coffeemaker, I promise, I'll pick up a new one before next week." "Oh, yes, the carafe. Thank you, but that's not why I needed to talk to you," she said primly. "There was a gentleman here earlier today asking for you." "A man? Asking for me? A student or maybe a parent?" For some reason, it disturbed Mulder greatly that someone had been looking for him. If Scully had been around she would have accused him of being 'Spooky' again. "Yes. A nice gentleman, fifties, I would say. He wore a nice suit but was terribly wrinkled. Bald, wire rimmed glasses . . ." Mulder's heart froze in his chest. The description Miss Jenkins had given was Walter Skinner. But could it really be Walter Skinner? He'd seen too much to take things at face value. But if it really was Skinner, what was he doing here, in Montana? "Did he leave a name?" he asked anxiously. "No, he didn't, though I did ask. He said he would be by later, after class. I directed him to the student center for coffee, since our coffee pot is inoperable at the moment," she said and went back to her typing. "Um, thanks." Mulder turned and went back to his office. He sat at his desk with the lights still off. What should he do? Call Scully? Leave? Go home, pack up the kids and the five of them head for the hills, Canada, Mexico, anywhere they could drive until they ran out of land? But on the other hand, what if it really was Skinner and he needed their help? Could he run from their old boss? Could he deny anything to the man who'd risked his career and his life to save Mulder from certain death? Nervously, he chewed on his bottom lip and watched the door. When it opened a few minutes later, he jumped a foot and then forced himself to relax. "If you don't mind taking a seat, I'll see if Dr. Hale is in," Miss Jenkins said formally. Mulder could hear them plainly. Hell, anyone in the outer office could probably hear Mulder's heart pounding in his chest. Miss Jenkins tapped on the doorframe, since he'd inadvertently left the door open and smiled thinly at him. "Your visitor is here, Dr. Hale," she said and stood aside. Mulder nodded, wiped his sweating palms on his pants legs and rose stiffly. He walked slowly toward the outer office and Jenkins gave him a look that bordered on impatient disgust. He cleared his throat and looked at the man sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. Walter Skinner had been watching the door to the hallway when Mulder entered, but he jerked his head around and up to face the young man. For a moment, neither moved, neither spoke. Then, slowly, Skinner rose to his feet. He seemed nervous, almost as nervous as Mulder felt. Carefully, he extended his hand. Holding it so that Miss Jenkins didn't notice, a small cut probably made by a penknife, marred the surface of his index finger. A tiny drop of bright red blood hung to the edge of the cut. Mulder's breath caught in his throat and his fought the urge to touch the blood. Their eyes met and Mulder nodded. "If you could join me?" he said, jerking his head toward the door to his office. "Certainly, Dr. Hale," Skinner replied and smiled wanly at Miss Jenkins, who was already back at her typing. Mulder led the way into the office and then moved to close the door. As soon as the door shut, both men let out a breath of relief. "Sir, what are you doing here?" "Mulder, my god, I never thought, I didn't think I'd ever find you," Skinner said in a rushed whisper. "How did you find me?" Mulder asked tersely. "You bought a house. The information was slipped to me." "In DC?" Mulder prodded. "No, in Los Angeles. It's a long story." Mulder crossed his arms. "I have time." Skinner remembered the other times he'd felt like this, under Mulder's microscope. He knew the younger man trusted him, probably as much as he trusted anyone aside from Dana Scully, but that wasn't saying much. Skinner looked around the room, wondering if that was the best place for their discussion. Suddenly, he eyes rested on a framed photograph on the windowsill beside Mulder's desk. In the picture, a smiling Mulder sat beside a radiant Scully, his arm around her waist. William was perched on his father's knee, mugging it up for the camera. Scully's lap was taken up by a bulging maternity dress; her face was full, as it had been when she was carrying William. Mulder watched the reaction on his former boss's face. "That was taken on our anniversary," he said with a fond smile. "Anniversary? You're married?" Skinner asked. Mulder winced. "Not exactly. Scully has decided that we -- well, we treat March 6 as our anniversary. People around here think we've been married 12 years." Skinner frowned without understanding and then he slowly nodded. "That was the day Scully was assigned to the X Files, wasn't it?" "The day after, actually. It was the day we left for Oregon, on our first case," Mulder corrected. In the darkened room, Skinner wiped at his eye and cleared his throat. "You both -- all three of you look very happy," he said. "You had twins? Twin girls?" Mulder looked at Skinner warily. "The same way I found out about the house," Skinner explained with a shrug. "Which means you aren't the only one who knows," Mulder said flatly. "I had to do some digging to find you, Mulder. And it was a long shot." Skinner was suddenly very tired. He sat heavily on the old battered couch along the wall. "I went to the Van de Kamps," he said evenly. "Gibson Praise was there. He told me William was gone and he believed he was with you." "The Van de Kamps were clones," Mulder said, perching on the edge of his desk. Skinner raised his eyebrow and Mulder shrugged on shoulder. "I can't tell you how we got there, how we found him. I just . . . I had a little help from above. But when we arrived, there were two puddles of green goo on the floor, and I found William in a crib in the basement. It looked like they'd built the nursery down there on purpose. I think the rock walls of the basement had magnetite in them. There was a hole in the wall near the crib." "My god," Skinner gasped. "We must have just missed the action, because William was screaming but he was fine. Not dehydrated or anything. He was hungry." Mulder smiled at the memory of their first stop and discovering that Scully's milk had come back in. "We didn't stick around to ask questions." "The farm was burned to the ground, recently from the looks of it. For a while, I thought he was still there, that they had been burned in the fire," Skinner explained. He looked back up at Mulder. "Clones? How could that be? I made the contacts, I made sure that everything was handled --" "Sir, Walter, you can't blame yourself. Even if they were clones, they were taking good care of him. I sometimes wonder if they were just waiting for us to come get him. But the others, those hybrids -- " "The supersoldiers," Skinner interrupted. "Whatever they are, like Rohrer, they must have gotten there first. But they didn't touch him. He was perfect. Still, we got as far away from there as we could that first day. We came north and settled here." "You've been here all this time, two years?" Mulder nodded. "We thought we were off their radar," he said sadly. "Something has been happening. The men who were on your jury, the ones Gibson told us weren't human, they're systematically being killed." "What's been turned up during the investigations?" Mulder asked, leaning forward with interest. "That's just it. There haven't been any investigations. It's being covered up. They just cease to exist. They have no families to put up any protest. They're names are removed -- it's like they never existed." "But within the Bureau -- " Mulder blurted, confusion plain on his face. "I don't know what to tell you, Mulder. I'm no longer in a position to know what goes on at the top," Skinner said, holding his hands out in a sign of resigned frustration. "They didn't fire you, did they?" "No. Worse. They put me in VCS as an agent. I'm not even allowed in the field. Remember your old duty on background checks?" He waited for the young man to grimace and nod. "I think I have your old chair." "Damn it," Mulder huffed out a curse. "Look, I came to warn you as much as to see you again. I knew that if you were here, had been here long enough to settle in, that you wouldn't be expecting anyone to come after you now." Mulder rubbed his face with his left hand. "I want you to come back home with me." Skinner shook his head. "No, Mulder, that would be too dangerous. The last murder occurred in Los Angeles. Agent Kallenbrunner and I both witnessed it." At the former prosecutor's name, Mulder flinched. "It's all right. We're sort of on the same side. At first I thought he might be in danger, that the murderer might come after everyone at the trial. But when Galbriath was killed in LA, I chased the killer down an alley. He had every opportunity to kill me. But he didn't." "Maybe someone scared him off," Mulder suggested. "No, he even spoke to me, right before he punched my lights out. He told me to go home, before I got hurt." "Not the usual greeting card of a killer," Mulder mused. "My thought precisely. But he might be following me now and I can't risk leading him to your home. Not with Scully and the little ones there." Mulder chewed on his lip and then reached behind him to grab the phone. Hastily he dialed a couple of numbers and pursed his lips, waiting for the pick up on the other end. "Scully, it's me. I've got someone in my office who doesn't know the meaning of the words 'you're coming home with me.' Do you think you could persuade him?" He then handed the phone over to Skinner with a shit-eating grin. Skinner's eyes flared as he took the phone and put it to his ear. "Scully, it's Walter. Walter Skinner." He had to hold the phone out to avoid a busted eardrum. He tried, unsuccessfully, to get a word in edgewise, but in the end, he was nodding, even though the other party couldn't see him do it. "Yes, of course. But I don't want to be a bother -- No, that' wasn't what I was implying. No, I'll be there. We'll be leaving -- " he looked up at Mulder for a time and the man glanced at his watch and held up three fingers. " -- three o'clock, I guess. Yes, I'll do that." He glared at Mulder as he handed him the phone. "You set me up." "Sure as shootin'," Mulder said with a smile. He took the phone and talked to his partner for a few brief minutes and then hung up with an "I love you." "Well, I have a class in an hour, so let's head over to the local McDonald's and I'll let you spring for lunch. Then, you're welcome to hang out here, or sit in the class." "What are you teaching? Psychology?" Skinner asked, following Mulder out of the office. "English. I have two sections this summer. Intro to novels and Horror movies: fact or fiction." Skinner rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?" Hale Household 4:00 pm "Honey, I'm home," Mulder quipped as he ushered Skinner into the house. "And I brought the boss home with me. Remember, no witchcraft." Skinner just rolled his eyes. Mulder was enjoying himself too much. Suddenly, from the hallway, a ball of blue and red streaked across the floor and attached itself to Mulder's leg. "Hi Daddy!" squealed William, hugging on for dear life as Mulder tried to walk with the new appendage on his leg. "Hey, buddy! Did you have fun today?" Mulder asked. Will nodded vigorously. "Good. I want you to meet someone." Will looked up and noticed that his father was not alone. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and he sidestepped his way around Mulder's legs until he was peeking out from behind them. Skinner tried to look as non-threatening as possible. Mulder saw his son's reaction and smiled. "He's not used to a lot of people. We have some friends and Scully and I take him to church, but we're pretty isolated out here." "I understand," Skinner said casually. Mulder knelt down so that he was eye-level with the boy. "William, remember Mommy and me telling you stories about where we used to live and the people there?" The little boy was chewing on his bottom lip, an exact replica of his father under stress, but he nodded in acknowledgement. "Well, this is Walter Skinner." At that, William's eyes lit up and he smiled a big toothy grin. "Uncle Walter!" he cried out and lunched toward Skinner's legs, almost knocking the man over in the process. Skinner was stunned, but recovered quickly and picked the child up into his arms. "Hi, William. Boy, you sure have grown since the last time I saw you." "I was a baby!" William confirmed. "We used to live far away, but now we live here by the Old Man." Skinner looked over at Mulder for interpretation. "The mountain behind the house. During certain times of the day it sort of looks like an old man," Mulder explained. Skinner nodded. "Walter?" At the sound of her voice, Skinner jerked his head up and saw Scully standing in the doorway, a smile on her face. Scully looked years younger than he last remembered. Her hair was longer, pulled back in a ponytail that made her look like a teenager. She was wearing denim pants cut just below her knees and a loose shirt that looked like it could have belonged to Mulder, the sleeves rolled to her elbows and the shirttails knotted at her waist. This was not the world-weary traveler who had begged his help to save her partner's life on that night two years ago. This woman was whole and happy. "Walter," she said again and this time stepped forward to encircle his waist in a hug. She looked up at him and smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes. C'mon, dinner's almost ready. I made beef stew and biscuits." "I thought that's what I smelled," Mulder grinned appreciatively. "C'mon, buddy. Let's show Uncle Walt where he can wash up." They had just finished dinner, Skinner couldn't remember when he'd last tasted food, much less enjoyed it so much, when the small radio on the cabinet let out an ear-piercing squeal. "Sammi's awake," William said knowingly. When a second cry joined the first, he smiled brightly. "Missy's awake, too, Mommy," he told his mother. "How is it they always seem to know when we're eating?" Mulder groused as Scully pushed away from the table. "They are your daughters, Mulder. They probably smell the food," she said. "You guys finish up. Meggie made banana cake this afternoon. Will, show Daddy where you helped her put the cake. I'll be down when I get them fed." "Call when you want to come down. I'll help carry," Mulder called to her retreating back. "The cake is in the pantie, Daddy," Will said, pointing to the back of the kitchen. "Pant-REE, Will. I'll get it. Can you get little plates and clean forks?" Will nodded and scurried over to the cupboard. He pushed a step stool into place and scrambled up it, allowing him to reach the requested plates. Carefully, he counted. "One - two - three -- Daddy, do I count Mommy?" "You know Mommy loves banana cake, Will. Better count her, too," Mulder answered. Skinner watched in awe. Mulder carried a metal cake pan over to the table and pulled a spatula from the crock sitting next to the stove. By this time Will had placed the plates and forks on the table and had already crawled up into his booster seat, anticipation on his chubby face. Mulder looked over at his former superior and raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong, Walt?" he asked, concerned. "I just . . . I just didn't . . . I don't know what I expected but -- " Skinner was having trouble putting his feelings into words. "I guess I thought you'd be in hiding." "Living in ratty motels, changing hair color each time we moved, never staying in one place more than a week or two?" Mulder supplied. Skinner looked up abruptly and held Mulder's gaze. "Yeah, I guess so." Mulder cut the cake and placed a small piece on one plate, placing it in front of William. He cut three larger pieces and placed them each on plates, handing one to Skinner and keeping one for himself. He put the last piece at Scully's place for her return. "We did, you know," he said after he'd sat down, his cake untouched. Skinner kept silent, eating his cake, but looked over at Mulder. "That first night, after we'd had the run in with that black lunged -- you know who and we'd escaped the black helicopters, we ended up in a motel in Roswell." Skinner cracked a smile as Mulder continued. "We fully intended to hit the road the next day and keep running, just as you thought we did." "What changed your mind?" Skinner asked. Mulder's eyes drifted over to his son and his lips formed a soft, fond smile. "We'd forgotten to pack something," he said simply. "But how . . . how did you find . . .?" Skinner didn't want to say too much in front of the boy, it was obvious this 'little pitcher' had inherited his father's 'big ears', not to mention an innate intelligence from both his parents. "I had a dream, a vision, I don't know what you would call it. My father and Scully's, they came to me and told me where to find . . . what we were missing most. I drove straight there, the next day. I didn't even tell Scully for fear it might just have been a stupid dream, that it wasn't real. But he was there, as I told you, in that basement. God, I'd never been so happy and so scared in my life," Mulder admitted with a smile. "And that was it. That night, the second night we were on the run, I was told to come here. I didn't know what I'd find, didn't know how we were going to fit in. It just all worked." Skinner pulled off his glasses on the pretense of cleaning them, but Mulder caught him wiping his eyes when the older man thought he wasn't looking. "I'm glad. I hated the thought that . . . well, let's be honest, you two had been through more circles of hell -- " "'Heck,' Uncle Walter. Mommy don't like naughty words," William advised him in hushed tones. Skinner bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "No, I seem to remember that about your mother," he agreed. Skinner helped Mulder and Will clean up after dinner. Scully called down a little while after and Mulder ran up the stairs to help her carry the twins down to see their 'Uncle Walter' too. The three adults talked quietly while Mulder rocked one baby and Scully held the other, Will playing with Legos at their feet. When the clock on the mantel chimed 8 o'clock, Will started to whine. "I wanna stay up with Uncle Walter," he said, rubbing his eye with one little fist. "Uncle Walter will be here in the morning. Maybe you can show him how to make oatmeal," Mulder suggested, lifting the small boy up onto his shoulders. "Tell Uncle Walter 'good night'." "'Night, Uncle Walter." "I'll be back to help with the girls in a minute," Mulder said as he headed for the stairs. "Can I help?" Skinner asked, almost afraid they might take him up on the offer. "Sure," Scully said easily. "Here, you take Missy and I'll take Sammi," she told him. Carefully, she placed the infant in Skinner's large hands. He was immediately enraptured by the tiny life he held so close to his heart. "She's so light," he commented. "Thank heavens," Scully said breezily. "Believe me, they felt like a lead balloon those last few weeks before delivery." Skinner ended up being pressed into service reading William 'Dinosaur's Blanket', a story the boy knew by heart and kept encouraging the former Assistant Director when the man stumbled over the phrasing. Finally, with nightlights on and kisses given, all was quiet upstairs and the adults retreated to the living room. "So you think they were supersoldiers?" Scully asked, sitting cross-legged on the sofa next to Mulder. "I don't know what they were, Scully. I just know that they've been in positions of power within the Bureau for the last two years. And now, they're being systematically eliminated." "Like the Smiths? Like the Igor clones?" Mulder mused aloud. "The supersoldiers could only be killed by magnetite and even then it takes incredible concentrations. Still, why would there be one man - - " "Maybe not a man, Scully," Mulder interrupted. "OK," she agreed with a frown, "one 'entity' going after all of them. From what I gathered there were hundreds all over the world. Maybe even thousands." "I don't know," Skinner said with a frustrated growl as he leaned against the fireplace. "I can only report what I know and what I saw with my own eyes." Scully smiled at him. "I know the feeling," she said with a wink. She turned serious and looked over at her partner. "Do you think he'll come for William?" Mulder closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the sofa. "It's possible. Maybe even probable. Tell me more about this Josepho character, the one who tried to take William," he said to Scully. She shook her head. "No, no, I won't accept that they're connected," she said emphatically. "Scully, they're killing supersoldiers. You were told once that William was thought to be -- " "No! Mulder, he's your son. Your DNA. He's not an experiment!" "Scully, the experiment claim was just a red herring. I know he's mine, I see me in his looks, his attitude and I'm not talking the fact that he's around me to mimic me. But think about my life before William was conceived. I was infected with the alien virus, not once but twice. That could have changed my DNA. I was so profoundly affected by the rubbings on that spacecraft that I almost died. I had a growth in my brain, Scully. And we never knew what they did to you, not entirely. Yes, they took your ova, but not all of them, as we've proven twice already. Maybe they weren't harvesting as we thought. Maybe they were pruning, so that only the right ova remained." Tears were streaming down her face as she glared at Mulder. "They are our babies, Mulder. How can you talk about them -- " He softened and pulled her into an embrace, stroking her hair. "I know they are our babies. I love them. I would die for them, just as I would die for you. I'm not saying they're freaks, I'm saying they're special. And the qualities that make them special could also put them in danger." "What are you saying?" she asked, pulling back to meet his gaze. "Maybe we should consider leaving. Moving on." "Running," she said flatly. "For a while. Just until we think it's safe," he offered. At that, she hugged him again and the tears started once more. "Jeff Spender said he cured William," Scully sobbed into his shirt. "But what about the dream?" Mulder whispered. "The bad dream William had just a few nights ago." "Daddy, Mommy?" All three adults looked up suddenly as William appeared, sleepy eyed, in the doorway to the living room. "Hey, buddy," Mulder said. Scully sat up and Mulder opened his arms to the boy. "C'mere. Did we wake you?" William shook his head, but crawled up on Mulder's lap. Scully had turned away, wiping her eyes before turning to smile at her son and ruffle his hair. "Too much excitement, having Uncle Walter here, huh, Sweetheart?" "No, Mommy. Missy and Sam woke me." Scully looked over at the baby monitor on the side table and frowned. "We didn't hear them." "No," William said, with the same exasperated look Mulder often affected. "Not the babies. The other Missy and Sam. The ladies!" Mulder drew in a deep breath and licked his lips. "What did they say this time, Will?" he asked cautiously. "They said to tell you to stay here. It will all be OK." Scully glanced over at Mulder. He shook his head from side to side. Skinner watched them and waited for an explanation. When one wasn't forthcoming, he spoke up. "Ladies? What's he talking about?" "It's late, buddy. Daddy will take you up to bed and tuck you in." "Daddy, they said we'd be OK. We just have to believe," the little boy insisted as his father hefted him in his arms and started walking toward the stairs. "And they said to tell Mommy not to cry." Scully bit her lip but kept silent. She waved a timid good night to her son and blew him a quick kiss. "Scully?" Skinner asked when they heard Mulder's heavy footsteps in the upstairs hall. "He has dreams, Walter. We think . . . we think maybe he has visitations." "Visitations? That sounds religious," Skinner said slowly. "Visitations from his dead aunts. You do the math," Scully said wearily. "And what he was talking about -- about staying here? That came from . . ." "My sister Melissa and Mulder's sister Samantha," Scully said, drawing in a deep breath. Skinner's jaw dropped open. "You aren't suggesting -- " "Still can't believe, Walter?" Scully teased with a sad smile. "Yes, I am suggesting. I've had a visit myself." Mulder rejoined them, settling back on the sofa and drawing Scully back toward him to rest against his shoulder. "So, I guess that handles that problem." "We have to believe," Scully said putting her hand on his chest and straightening up. "But we don't have to wait here like sitting ducks." "You want to get reinforcements?" Mulder asked. "I think we should call Kallenbrunner," Skinner said quietly. Anger flashed in Scully's eyes. "No, not him. He's a . . . a . . . that rat -- " "Watch those naughty words, Mommy," Mulder teased. When she flashed a glare in his directions he held up his hands in surrender. "The man was just doing his job, Scully." "The Nuremburg Defense, Mulder? How lame!" she growled with a huff. "No, I don't trust him." "Then who?" Skinner asked impatiently. "Do you want to call Doggett?" Mulder offered. She shook her head. "No, I don't think we could get him up to speed fast enough and besides, he would never believe half of what we know. No." "Well, I don't think Joe and Mary C. would be much help," Mulder said through gritted teeth. "They aren't trained and I don't want to put them in danger." "Scully, I know you don't like Peter Kallenbrunner. Hell, I don't like him, either. But he did help me in Los Angeles. And I think he's come to understand what his role was in that trial. I think he regrets his actions. For the record, he believes what you said on the witness stand, at least he does now." "You trust him, Walter?" she asked. "You trust him with my babies lives?" Her hard expression and dark eyes warned him to tread carefully. "Yes, Dana. Yes, I do. I think he can help us." She nodded once and licked her lips. "OK. Call him. We need him here by tomorrow." Mulder showed Skinner where the phone was in the kitchen and he quickly placed the call. In a few minutes, he was back. "He got a flight, he'll arrive at Helena airport at 11 tomorrow." "I'll pick him up," Mulder said. "You stay here with Scully." "You sure?" Skinner asked. "I know these roads better than you, Walt. I'll get there faster and be back faster," Mulder said with a thin smile. "Walter, have you talked to m-my mom?" Scully asked, her voice cracking a bit under the stress. Walter sat down near Scully and took her hand. "I have. We talk from time to time. We went together to Arlington Cemetery to, um, well -- " "When? What day?" Scully asked. "May 19, the anniversary, well, it's what has been put on the stones," Skinner explained with some embarrassment. "The day the twins were born," Scully said with a sigh. "She knows, Scully," Skinner told her. "She called me, just a day ago. She had a dream and you and Mulder were holding the babies. She knows you're safe." "I want to call her so badly," Scully said, tears running down her cheeks. "I miss her so much." Mulder pulled his partner back against him again. "You can, Scully. You can call her. Just as soon as this is all over." Hale (Mulder) Household 9:15 am "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Scully asked, biting her bottom lip. She had been hovering around Mulder all morning, when she wasn't taking care of the kids or forcing more food down Skinner's throat. He saw it as a defense mechanism, so Mulder was willing to forgive and forget, but he knew they needed to talk. "Take a walk with me," he said suddenly, grabbing her hand and leading her to the front door. "The kids," she reminded him. "We aren't going far. Meg is with the girls and I think Uncle Walter has Will under control." Scully snickered at that. "More like the other way around," she whispered, so as not to be overheard by the big man in the living room, squatting on the floor playing Legos with the small boy. "We're just going outside for a moment, Walter. I won't be far," she said loud enough to be heard over the growling sounds William was making as he showed off his latest creation: a bright red dinosaur. "We're fine, Dana," Skinner called back, not bothering to look up as he tried to disconnect two blocks that seemed to be permanently locked together. The sunshine greeted them warmly as they stepped off the porch. The air was full of the scent of freshly cut wood and the off-putting aroma of paint thinner and other construction site smells. They could hear the men shouting to each other from the work going on at the back of the house. Mulder pulled her along until they were walking through the trees to the right of the mowed front lawn. There was a little wash back there that turned into a creek in the spring rains. It still had a trickle of water in it. "Mulder, I don't want to go far," she warned. "I can still see the house," he told her. Then he pulled her into an embrace. "Now, tell me all about it." She breathed in and sighed. "I just don't like you going to the airport to pick up that . . . that . . ." "His name is Kallenbrunner," Mulder reminded her with twinkling eyes. "I was trying to come up with a suitable four-letter word and none were coming to mind," she retorted. He laughed and hugged her harder. "If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's my ability to handle Kallenbrunner." She pushed against him so she could see his face. "It never occurred to you that this could be an elaborate set up?" He frowned. "Skinner would never -- " She put her finger to his lips to interrupt him and allow her to explain. "No, Walter would never do that. But if Walter is being manipulated . . . Mulder, if this was some plot to find us, to find you, wouldn't it make the most sense to use someone we trust to carry out the deed?" He thought about that for a moment. "I just don't think -- " "Well, at least that hasn't changed," she huffed and broke from his arms to reach down and pick up pebbles from the edge of the stream. There wasn't enough water to skip stones as she wanted, but they did make a satisfying 'plop' as she tossed them one by one into the little pool by her feet. "Hey, I don't think I deserved that," he said crossly. "I have been thinking." "Mulder, you run head long into every dangerous situation you come across!" He looked at her in silent frustration and finally reached down to pick up some of the water- smoothed stones. His 'plops' were louder because they carried more force than hers. "The last two years -- " "The last two years _began_ because you had to single-handedly infiltrate Mt. Weather," she reminded him. "And for what? A date. A date that may or may not lead to the invasion of alien colonizers." "Oh, so now we get to the real issue," he growled. "Scully, I thought you believed me. Remember the night in Roswell?" She turned to him, her eyes shining with tears. "I will never forget the night we spent in Roswell. But Mulder, don't you see? If they take you, if they kill you as they most certainly will do this time, how am I supposed to go on?" "If William and the girls are in danger, how am I supposed to sit by and let something happen to them?" he asked softly, pulling her to him again. They just stood there, holding each other for several heartbeats. "You need to stay here with the kids. I could take Walter, but I want you to have the manpower. I really don't think I'll be in danger. I think Kallenbrunner is just as scared as we are right now. He was an unwitting participant in the trial, Scully. He had no idea what was going on." "He could have stopped it," she said, looking up to capture his gaze. "He was a former prosecutor. He knew what they were doing was wrong." "He was a pawn," Mulder reminded her. She nodded, silently. He knew she wasn't completely convinced, but was forced into a corner. She never liked being forced anywhere. "You have your weapons?" she asked tersely. "I got up early this morning and cleaned them." He pulled up the leg of his Dockers so she could see his ankle holster and turned, pulling up his short- sleeved polo to show her the holster on his belt. "Think you remember how to use them?" she asked, but her tone was lighter now. "Oh, I can fire them all right. Now, actually hitting a target -- well, that was always a question, wasn't it?" She fought the smile that threatened to break out. "You'll call me, several times along the way," she intoned. "Fifteen minute updates. Sheez, not even Kersh was this anal," he teased. At her sour expression, he cocked his head. "Yes, I will call you along the way. And we won't stop for anything -- black helicopters, tanks, rocket grenade launchers on the side of the road, Celebrity Skins centerfold hitchhikers -- " She rolled her eyes. "I really don't think you'll have to worry about that last one," she said, crossing her arms and heading back to the house. "Hey, you have to admit, it's the prefect cover!" he called after her. She was waiting for him next to the car. She ran her hand along the roof of the black Ford Explorer. "It's still got some speed, Scully," he reminded her. "I know. So do you. Just remember that," she reminded him. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him soundly on the lips. "Be safe, be careful. I love you." "I'll call. I love you, too," he told her, hugged her once more and got into the car. She went up to the porch and stood, not waving, just standing there, already waiting for his return. He watched her in the rearview mirror until he turned the corner. Helena Regional Airport 10:45 am Peter Kallenbrunner didn't know what to expect when he got off the plane. Skinner had been cryptic on the phone, just saying that he needed back up on the case they'd been working together. Kallenbrunner wasn't a field agent. He spent all of his days in the office, looking over requests for warrants, writing administrative orders, preparing briefs for the Department of Justice lawyers who normally took over prosecution of FBI cases. In short, he was totally unprepared to back up a field agent and scared out of his mind when he stepped from the hot tarmac into the cool air of the Helena Regional Airport's one multi-functioning terminal building. That's when he came face to face with his worst nightmare. Fox Mulder. A thousand thoughts scrambled and swirled through Kallenbrunner's mind. Mulder was a convicted killer. Mulder had escaped Death Row. Mulder was very possibly armed and dangerous. So why was Mulder standing there in Dockers and a polo, in public, in a crowd of people, looking like he was coming to pick up a family member for a vacation in the clean, mountain air? "Agent Kallenbrunner, it's been a while," Mulder greeted him with outstretched hand. "Do you have checked baggage?" Peter fought to find his bearings. "I-I-I, uh, no. I just have . . ." Meekly he lifted his briefcase up for inspection. "Ah, the kind of man who brings a knife to a gun fight," Mulder joked and as he noticed the other man pale at his words, he dropped his head and chuckled. "I'm kidding, Kallenbrunner. I'm not the enemy here." "Where's Skinner?" Kallenbrunner finally found the voice to ask. "Back at our house, with Scully. I didn't want to leave her and the kids alone and Skinner thought it best if I picked you up because I know the area." "Kids?" Kallenbrunner was still having a difficult time getting up to speed. "Our son, William. I think he was mentioned in the trial," Mulder explained casually. "And twin girls, six weeks old." While they talked, they'd left the confines of the terminal building and were now approaching a black SUV parked in the lot. Kallenbrunner grabbed Mulder's arm and spun the man around to face him. "It was a set up, a lie! She didn't put the boy up for adoption. You had the kid secreted somewhere, waiting for your escape. Her testimony was staged! What else was a lie? All of it?" he demanded. Mulder sighed heavily and shook off Kallenbrunner's arm. He waited while other people walked passed them to their cars. "This isn't the place to get into this." "Where is the place?" Kallenbrunner asked defiantly, crossing his arms. "In the car, maybe," Mulder offered, unlocking the driver side door. Reluctantly, Kallenbrunner got in on the passenger side. Hale Household 11:00 am Skinner looked up at Scully, watching her as she spoke on the phone. She looked relieved when she hung up. "Was that Mulder?" "Yes," she said and let a small smile play across her face. "The flight was on time, they're on the way back. It should take them about an hour." "Good," Skinner acknowledged. Meg Hawthorne came into the room and smiled shyly at Skinner before going to stand next to Scully. "The girls are bathed and changed and I just put them down for a nap. Can I help you make lunch?" "Meg, how does your mother get along without you?" Scully asked affectionately as she swiped a lock of honey blonde hair behind the girl's ear. "Oh, she says I only work this hard for other people," Meg said happily, going to the refrigerator to pull out meat and cheese. "Is it all right if I take off in a few minutes? A friend of mine called this morning and said the pool is open, so we're going to go swimming." "That should be fine, Meg. You've been a big help." "Will Mr. Hale and his friend be back for lunch? His other friend, I mean," Meg corrected with a quick, nervous glance back at Skinner. "Yes, there should be four adults and then Will. Where is he?" Scully asked, looking around. "Oh, darn, he better not be bothering the workmen again. I should go find him." "Dana, you work on lunch. I'll find the little guy," Skinner offered, glad for a chance to move around. In truth, he was as nervous as Scully and would be until Mulder and Kallenbrunner arrived. "Thanks, Walter," Scully said, and went back to making sandwiches with Meg. Skinner looked downstairs, and then upstairs, finally finding the boy sitting in the hallway outside his sisters' nursery, playing with cars. "Hey, William, your mom's looking for you," he said, gathering up the cars in his large hands and helped William rise to his feet. "Let's go downstairs to the kitchen and let the babies sleep." William frowned and looked back at the partially closed door to the nursery. After a tug on his hand, he followed Skinner down the stairs. Outside, over where the newest part of the house was coming into place, one of the men looked up at the window with the pink ruffled curtains fluttering in the breeze. "I need to run back to the shop and get the other 'saws-all', Mike. This one just started smokin'." "Shit, what else can go wrong today? Sure, Chuck. Just hurry. We want to get the plywood up today so we can put the windows in tomorrow," the foreman answered. Chuck nodded and started to walk around the front of the house. A breeze caught his long brown hair and threatened to blow it off the back of his neck. Carefully, he adjusted his hat, ensuring that the three bumps between his shoulders would continue to be hidden from view. The Road between Helena and Mt. Airy 11:30 am "So you're saying that these, what, these men who are disappearing are hybrids, they aren't human?" Kallenbrunner asked, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "Scully can tell you more, she's the expert in the area. But yes, they are hybrids, created to ensure the alien colonization that our government is hiding from the populace. The date for colonization is just 8 years away." "And with this knowledge, you're sitting quietly in western Montana, raising kids -- that's absurd!" "What can we do about it?" Mulder growled. "We were there when one of the major players was eliminated. Two, if you count Rohrer, who was movin' pretty good for a dead man the last time we saw him," he added with a sneer. "But you're little part in this drama guaranteed that we had no choice but to lay low, to get out of the game." "Look, at the trial, I was -- " "Doing your job, yeah, that's what I told Scully. I have to thank you. You did a hellava job. Bringing up our child like he was a tabloid headline, hammering on her how she'd given him up for adoption. Ripping her to shreds on that witness stand! If we weren't in such desperate need of manpower, I'd stop this car and stomp the shit out of you, you son of a bitch," Mulder roared. Kallenbrunner swallowed and stared out the passenger side window. "I'd feel the same way, if I were in your shoes," he said quietly. "And I know it's a little late, and not worth much, but I am sorry. Not just for the things I said, but for my part in this. I thought I was doing the right thing, I believed in my superiors." Mulder digested that for a moment before speaking. "And now?" Kallenbrunner continued to stare at the incredible mountain scenery. "Now, I don't know what to believe. But my gut tells me to trust you on this." Mulder nodded. "For what it's worth, I accept your apology." "Good," Kallenbrunner said, turning to look at the former defendant. "Now, explain to me about that green goo stuff." Mulder glanced at his watch and the surrounding landmarks. "I better give you the TV Guide Highlights version. We're almost home." Hale household 12:10 pm Mulder pulled into the driveway, and stopped the engine. He frowned, looking at the house. The construction crew wasn't working, but it occurred to him it was probably lunch hour. Even so, the men had usually taken lunch in the shade of the big trees in the front of the house, away from the work site. "Is everything all right?" Kallenbrunner asked as he exited the car. "Yeah, fine," Mulder replied absently. Even as he spoke, he unclipped his holster and pulled out his gun, keeping it low by his leg. He wanted to call out, but at the same time, he couldn't overcome the feeling that something was wrong. Carefully, he opened the screen door and entered the house, allowing Kallenbrunner in before stopping the door and closing it just as silently. He heard noises coming from the kitchen. "Where is the shop?" It was Skinner and he sounded pissed. "J-j-just up the road in Mt. Airy. Not more than ten minutes drive," came a very nervous male voice. "And this guy took off how long ago?" It was Skinner's interrogator's voice; Mulder would have recognized it anywhere. He broke into a trot and skidded to a stop when he reached the kitchen door. Scully was standing, holding William close with tears streaming down her face. The man Skinner was questioning sat on a chair, white as a sheet. Skinner was as angry as Mulder could ever remember seeing him. The older man's head jerked up when he heard Mulder enter. Mulder found himself facing Skinner's aimed weapon until the recognition hit and Skinner lowered the gun. He turned his attention back to the witness and continued his questions. "How long, how long has he been gone?" "Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes," the man stumbled over the words. "How long has he been on your crew?" "He just came on a couple of days ago. But he had references! We checked him out. He was bonded," the man explained and turned pleading eyes toward Scully. "I'm sorry, ma'ma, I'm so sorry." "What happened?" Mulder whispered in a hoarse voice. Scully realized he was in the room and launched into his arms, William caught in the middle of their embrace. "The girls. One of the men took the girls," she sobbed. "When?" "Just a few minutes ago. A truck is gone." "No, we would have passed them on the road. Scully, they're still here." "Mulder, the trucks are four-wheel drive, he could have taken them cross country." "No, we would see the tracks. He's on foot, he just wants us to think he took the truck." "Where would he go?" Scully demanded, her voice raw from crying. Mulder thought for a moment, his eyes coming to rest on the view out the back screen door. "The mountain. He could hide them there, get away when we're all gone looking for the truck. I bet we find the truck up there, too, hidden." "Then we go look. Mulder, we have to find them," she said, wiping at her eyes. "Mommy?" Will asked, patting her cheek. "Buddy, not now," Mulder said, patting his back. "Mommy, when can I wake up?" William asked, ignoring his father. Scully's face threatened to break again, but she bit her lip and brushed the hair off her son's forehead. "I wish we could all wake up, sweetie." Kallenbrunner and Skinner interrogated the rest of the crew. None of them knew the new man or much about him. Finally, Skinner told the men they could go. Mulder was pacing the kitchen, staring out the back door. "He's got them up there, Scully. I know it," he growled, chewing on his lip until a drop of blood showed in the corner. "Then we go look," she said, handing William to Skinner. "What? No, wait, you have to stay here," Skinner objected. "I'll go with Mulder." Scully's entire expression froze and she glanced down at William. "Will, pick up your cars and take them into the living room for a moment. Mr. Kallenbrunner will go with you." The three men exchanged glances and Mulder dropped his gaze. He knew there was a storm brewing and just hoped to ride it out. Kallenbrunner smiled at the boy. "C'mon, William. Show me your other toys." The two left the room quickly. As soon as they were out of sight, Scully turned on Skinner. "If you for one minute think I am going to stay behind while you two go search for my daughters, you are in for a rude awakening," she hissed, her eyes on fire. "Have you lost any memory you had of me? Do you honestly think I've been that domesticated?" Skinner had the good grace to flinch at that comment. "Now, we are wasting precious time. If you want to help us, stay here with William!" "Scully," Mulder interrupted meekly. "I think I'd rather have Skinner with us. Kallenbrunner can watch Will." She glared at him for a moment, just for his impertinence. Their eyes met and she searched his. He knew she was asking if they could trust the former prosecutor. He also knew that she would trust his judgment of the man. He nodded his head once. "OK. Walter, tell Kallenbrunner he's to stay here and protect my son." Her eyes told him what would happen to the man if anything were to happen to the child. She turned to Mulder. "I want everyone armed. You know where my gun is. Go get it. I'll go get the flashlights. We'll head out the back and take the trail up the mountain." Peter Kallenbrunner sat on the floor, looking at the small boy playing with his cars and trucks. The kid wasn't much different from his own son at that age. Mike was 13 now and was into comic books and, heaven forbid, girls. But it was easy to remember the time when he would sit on the floor and play with toy cars for hours. The former prosecutor-turned-agent was so intent on the little boy that the attack was completely unexpected. One minute there was pain, right along the back of his neck where his head met his spine and then nothing, total blackness. William looked up at the sound and his eyes grew wide. He started to scramble backward, looking for anyone to run to. But a big hand reached down and latched onto his arm in a firm but not painful grip. "Come with me," said the voice that William would never forget. Hale Household 12:35 pm "I want my mommy!" William cried as the large man picked him up and cradled him in his arms. "I'm taking you to her," came the deep voiced reply. "Why did you hurt Mr. Peter?" William asked, sniffing loudly and twisting to see over the man's shoulder. Kallenbrunner hadn't moved since he'd been hit. William knew his mom could make the man better, but his mom wasn't there. "He would have been hurt. He's safer here." William turned back around and looked up at the man holding him. "Who are you?" he asked, wiping his nose with his tee shirt since he knew his mom wasn't around to holler at him. "I'm a friend." William searched the man's eyes and recognized something there. The little boy smiled. On the Trail up the Mountain They hadn't spoken since they'd left the landscaped area of the backyard. Mulder was in the lead, Scully right behind him, Skinner bringing up the rear. Scully was searching the right of the trail, Mulder the left. Scully stopped and pointed to something about ten yards off the path. A rusted pick up with the construction company's name on the side was sitting empty. They circled the vehicle and Mulder wordlessly pointed to a flat tire on the driver's side rear wheel. "So he's on foot," Skinner said with relief. "The mountain is riddled with old mine shafts and caves," Mulder said, his voice tense. "It's going to be hard to find him. "So let's get going," Scully impatiently hissed. Skinner looked over at her and gave her a grim smile. She'd fooled him the day before, looking so much like any young mother. He'd forgotten that she was as battle-tested as her partner -- as Skinner himself, for that matter. Mulder was already a few yards up the path. Hale Household The man let William down on the ground and was holding his hand gently. "We have to hurry. If you get tired, I'll carry you," he told the boy. "Did you take my baby sisters?" William asked. It was a long way up to see the man's face and the small boy's neck was beginning to hurt for the trying. "No. Someone very bad took them. He thinks you and your sisters can hurt him." William looked up again, amazed. "They're just babies. They can't hurt you. 'Less they grab your hair. That hurts my mom," he said confidently. "Sometimes, when Meggie forgets to cut their nails, they can scratch," he added, showing a healing scratch only an inch long on his arm. "They can hurt him, they can kill him and his kind. As can you," the man said in the same expressionless voice he'd been using since he'd first spoken to the child. "Me?" William asked, incredulous. "My mom would get real mad at me. She doesn't like my dad to even talk about hunting squirrels!" "You are special, William. You and your sisters. You are the hope of your world." William just looked at the man, not sure what he was talking about. "Are we gonna find my mom?" "Soon, William. Very soon." The mountainside The three stopped at a point where the trail branched off. Mulder glanced over at Scully and saw the determined look on her face. How was she managing to continue, he wondered. All he wanted to do was curl into a ball and hope the end would come soon. He'd lost their daughters! He never should have left them, never should have gone to the airport. He should have been there. A million thoughts were careening through his mind. Then, he felt it. A small, warm hand was slipping into his larger one. He looked down and saw her blue eyes giving him a grim smile. "We'll find them, Mulder. We just have to hurry." He wanted to pull her into a hug, kiss her long and hard for understanding, for knowing what he needed, but there wasn't time. "Which way?" Skinner was still there, Mulder had almost forgotten there were three of them on the search. "He's in the caves," Mulder said shakily, nodding to the trail that headed to the left. "He could have gone up," Scully suggested, looking toward the peak of the Old Man. "No, he wants to hide them until dark. Then he'll sneak them out. He may be waiting for others," Mulder reasoned. Scully closed her eyes. "He could call to them, I suppose. I have no idea how they can communicate with one another." "Then we better hurry," Skinner interjected and headed off down the trail to the left. "Mulder, you didn't do this," Scully said, although he no longer needed to hear the words. "I know," he admitted. "We will find them," she said firmly. "I just hope we're not too late," he choked out. She tilted her chin up, squeezed his hand and pulled him along after her. They had to hurry to catch up to Skinner. Several yards behind "Why?" William asked as the two of them hiked steadily up the trail. The bounty hunter looked down at the boy and frowned. "Why did that man take my baby sisters?" William repeated. "He wanted to lure your parents away." At William's confused look, the man realized he was dealing with an immature intelligence. "He wanted to trick them, lead them to where he can try and hurt them." "Like the bad guys in the movies?" "Yes, like bad guys," the hunter concluded. "Without your parents, you won't grow up to be who you are supposed to be." "I'm tried," William decided. Tired and a little afraid. But he knew they had to hurry. "I'll carry you," said the hunter. With William in his arms, they made better time. Inside the mountain Skinner was having a hard time keeping up, the ceiling of the cave was too low and both he and Mulder had to bend over. Scully was in the lead and there was no slowing her down. They'd come in this cave by chance. There had been no footprints, but the ground outside was primarily crushed rock and wouldn't have revealed any. Skinner's heart was sinking. He couldn't help thinking that he'd been in the house, he'd been left behind to protect Scully and the children. He'd failed in that charge once before and he was just now beginning to live with the results. He was studying the floor of the cave as they ran when something caught his eye. "Hold up!" he shouted and stooped over to pick up the object that had glowed in the beam of his flashlight. His eyes lit up with he saw what he had. "Scully, look!" He handed the small thing over to her and she gasped and clutched it. "It's from Sammi," she said, turning the tiny white sock over to Mulder. "Meg put Sammi in her pink sundress." Mulder's flashlight glowed on the tiny pink bow that was stitched to the lacy ruffle on the top of the baby's sock. "They came this way," he said confidently. He handed the sock back to Scully, but only have brushing it against his cheek. "We're on the right path." "Do you know this cave?" Skinner asked hopefully. "Some of it. We passed that part a long time ago. Will and I found it hunting mushrooms. But we never went this far," Mulder admitted. "So we don't know what's ahead?" Skinner saw that he'd only voiced what the other two had already realized. "We go as fast as we can, but let me lead," Mulder said evenly. Scully shot him a look, but upon seeing his steady gaze she nodded and moved aside to allow him in front. "Keep checking out the ground, see if we find anything else." "This could be bait," Skinner said. When there was no response, he knew they'd already thought along those lines. "Let's get moving," Mulder said gruffly and headed off again. Further along the cave The twins, for their small age, were amazingly quiet. The thing that had once been a man looked down at them and scowled. Two sets of china blue eyes stared back at him. It almost looked as if they were thinking, planning. He was fearful of them. He wanted to destroy them, but not yet. That would be against orders. He stumbled and almost dropped the twin dressed in pink. The twin dressed in green reached out a chubby hand and grasped her sister's dress. If the thing now known as Chuck let himself believe he could almost say they were communicating, looking out for one another. But in the deep recesses of his new brain, he remembered that babies as young as these weren't capable of higher forms of communication and were completely centered on self -- their own hunger and comfort. Why were they growing so heavy? It was taking more and more of his strength to carry them, but they had been so light when he'd picked them up from their matching cribs. He'd been assured his strength was unending, that it was more than enough to carry out his mission. So why was he stumbling with every other footstep and his arms felt like lead as he held the tiny infants? The babies weren't even squirming, another oddity he would have recalled if he'd been able to focus his attention on the girls and not on his own sapping strength. But he had to keep going. He'd mapped out the location days before even joining the construction crew. Just a few more minutes and they would be in the spot -- the perfect spot for an ambush. At the Hale Household. "Dana, Ellery?" Mary C. stood on the porch looking in the screen door. The house had a few scattered lights on, but otherwise seemed empty. Meg's car, or rather Joe's old beat up Civic they'd given her, was not in the driveway, but the Hales' car was. The workmen were gone, but it was nearing 3:00 and that usually meant the end of the day for most crews starting at 7 am. Still, where could everyone be? "Dana, it's me, MC. I brought the labels for the church picnic. Hey, is anybody home?" Maybe they were all in the back, playing in Ellery's new 'Yankee Stadium-West,' as Joe had dubbed the makeshift diamond. "Are you out back?" she called, starting to step off the porch. Just then, she heard a groan coming from the open living room window. Hurrying to the window, she peered in. A man, from what she could see, was lying on the floor and he groaned again. No one else seemed to be around. "Dana, I'm coming in!" she announced loudly and rattled the door with enough force to jiggle the lock and open it. In a second she was at the man's side. He had a huge lump on the back of his head and small trickle of blood ran down his neck. "Easy, easy does it," she murmured, as she looked him over, trying to see if he had other injuries. He was dressed in a suit and his hair was neatly cut. As he became more and more aware of his surroundings he sat up, startled. "Where's the boy?" he demanded and reached for his gun that was holstered on his belt. Mary C.'s eyes flew wide and she scooted back, holding her hands up in surrender. "What boy? William? I don't know; I'm trying to find Dana and Ellery." Kallenbrunner looked at the woman, who appeared harmless so he lowered his weapon. "They're looking for the girls, a construction worker took them. I was watching William. Someone hit me and took him." "Oh god," Mary C moaned. "We have to call the sheriff." Kallenbrunner rubbed the back of his head and winced when he hit the sore spot. "I think that might be a good idea." At the mouth of the Cave "What's your name?" The question came as a surprise to the large man carrying the little boy, but he reminded himself how exceptional the child was. Still the question itself was not an easy one to answer and not particularly critical to the task he had before him. "Just call me 'Friend'." The boy seemed satisfied with that answer. He'd finally flung his little arms around Friend's neck, making it easier to carry him. But after they'd gone a few yards into the darkened cave, the child stiffened. "What is wrong?" Friend asked. "It's dark," William replied, as if that was all the explanation needed. Friend shifted the child and searched through a pocket of his jacket, coming up with a long thin flashlight. He flicked it on one handed and William smiled in its beam. "Better?" The boy nodded enthusiastically. After a few more yards, though, he started to squirm in Friend's arms. "William, not now." "Put me down. Please." The last word was added almost as an afterthought, a remembrance of a not too distant reprimand. "We have to hurry," Friend answered impatiently. "Please. I can run," William promised. With a worried expression, the big man placed the child on the floor. Immediately, William started picking up small rocks near the walls of the caves. "William, we have to hurry," Friend reminded him. "Jus' a minute," the child retorted and grabbed another handful of pebbles before grabbing Friend's large hand. "OK, c'mon!" the child demanded, as if Friend were the one causing the hold up. In the cave The passageway opened up to a cavern about the size of a living room. There were boulders and stalagmites scattered about, perfect for hiding behind. The entity that had been Chuck stumbled and dropped behind one of the boulders, almost losing the twin in green to the floor. He shifted and leaned against the cold stone, panting for breath. What was wrong with him? The babies looked at him, almost as if they were studying him. Neither of the twins had made a sound all the time they'd been on the run. Now, they looked at him owlishly, blinking in tandem. He glanced down at them impatiently. He wanted to be done with this. He should just crush them as he waited for the others. But that was against his programming. They were to be studied, like the other boy. Only after anyone who might come after them had been killed. Along the passageway Mulder came to a fork in the passage and stopped. He turned immediately to Scully. "Left," she said confidently. "I think right," Mulder said, pulling on his bottom lip. "No time to think. You two go left, I'll go right," Skinner said, pulling out his flashlight and calmly pushing past the two parents to the passage on the right. "Once an AD . . .," Mulder muttered and Scully gave him a ghost of a smile. She grabbed his hand for a quick squeeze before they start off down the passageway again. They didn't hear the footsteps behind them as William and his new Friend come to the same fork. Without a thought, William pulled Friend into the passageway on the right. Skinner hadn't gone far when the passageway opened up. He flashed the light around the large cavern. The boulders seemed to dance in the path of his beam. He wiped sweat off his forehead, even though the cave was a cool 62 degrees, all the running and fear for the babies had left him sweating. He heard a sound, off in the cavern. One of the infants started to whimper and was followed immediately by the other one. Skinner bit his lip, traded the flashlight for his service weapon, holding the flashlight just above the gun so that he was sweeping his target area with the beam. The sound of the babies' cries was unnerving and worse yet the curved walls of the cavern caused an unnatural echo. He wasn't sure from where the sound was coming. Slowly, deliberating every footstep, he approached the center of the cavern. From his left, there was movement, sudden, menacing. He spun and brought up his weapon, only to have it and his flashlight knocked from his hands. There were hands on his neck and he could no longer breathe, his windpipe was being crushed . . . In an instant, the crushing stopped and Skinner felt himself lifted off his feet and tossed across the room like a rag doll. As he blinked several times, slowly erasing the black spots before his eyes, he could see that his flashlight had landed upright against one of the boulders. The beam shot straight up and illuminated the whole room. Just to his right now, two men were locked in a struggle. Much to his surprise, a small hand was helping him sit up. It was William. After assuring that Skinner was all right, William scurried away, behind another boulder. Skinner looked frantically for his weapon, finally spying it on the ground just a few feet from where the two were still locked in a deadly battle. Hands were at throats, eyes were bulging on both men. The flashlight wasn't powerful, it cast large shadows and the room was more gloom than light so the battle took on a surreal look, as if in an old black and white movie. The babies were crying and Skinner rolled to his knees, trying to home in on their voices. He could hear bones cracking loudly and it appeared one of the combatants had the upper hand and would soon be victorious. He wasn't sure he was happy with that possible outcome. Out from the shadows, William darted once again, one hand stuffed in his pockets. Skinner grabbed for the boy, but William danced around him gracefully, running right up to the two warriors. Skinner called out to him, but the boy ignored him. William pulled out a handful of pebbles, throwing them at the man who appeared to be winning. That was all it took to turn the battle. As the one fighter scrubbed at his face, writhing in pain, the other brought his locked fists up and landed a shuddering blow to the head. The first combatant's head snapped back and he fell to his knees. A second blow brought him to the floor where he fell into a fit before disintegrating into steel gray dust. Skinner swallowed, rubbing his throat. The victor turned to the small boy and smiled. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly to the boy. "You're welcome," William said politely. "William?" Skinner asked, trying to get to his feet. The victor of the battle towered over him, and Skinner looked up with apprehension. "It's OK Uncle Walter. This is Friend," William said casually, helping Skinner get to his feet. "Thank you," Skinner said with a curt nod. "Here you are!" William cried as he looked behind another boulder. Skinner and Friend walked around the pile of dust that had been the supersoldier to see where William where had found the babies. Friend picked up each child in one hand and Skinner held his breath. Then Friend carefully handed both twins to Skinner. "They look unharmed." The babies stopped crying instantly and looked up at Skinner. "They're fine," William replied, stroking Sammi's bare foot. "Sammi lost a sock. Mom's gonna be mad!" the little boy warned, shaking his head in dismay. After all the tension of the last few weeks, it was more than Skinner could bear. What started out as a chuckle turned almost instantly into a knee weakening, full body guffaw. He almost dropped one of the twins, but Friend snatched the baby just in time. That was enough to bring Skinner slowly back to his senses. He leaned against a rock, cradling the infants. Before he had a chance to speak, Mulder was at the arch to the passageway, gun drawn on Friend. "Step away from my children," Mulder growled, releasing the safety with one flip of his finger. William threw himself in front of Friend. "No, Daddy! Don't hurt him!" "William, come to Mommy!" Scully ordered when she took his place beside Mulder. "Please, sweetie, come to Mommy," she pleaded. "No! Daddy can't hurt my Friend!" William insisted. "He's not your friend, Will," Mulder ground out, never taking his eyes off his prey. "Now go to your mother." William looked at his parents and then up at Friend. He turned back to his father. "No." Skinner juggled each baby to a more secure position, wondering how Scully and Mulder had made it look so easy the night before. He walked slowly over and handed the girls back to their mother. Then he reached up and put his hand on Mulder's outstretched arm, lowering the gun. "Will's right, Mulder. He saved me. He saved all of us." "The bad man wanted to take us. Just like my dream, Daddy," William explained. Now that his father was no long threatening his friend, William rushed forward and threw his arms around Mulder's legs tightly. "Friend helped me. He didn't hurt us. 'Cept, Peter." "Kallenbrunner?" Skinner spun and shot a menacing look at Friend. "I temporarily disabled him," Friend replied coolly. "He hit him on the head. Mommy, you have to go fix him. I'll get the band-aids!" William cried and started out of the cavern into the passageway. Mulder reached out and grabbed the boy by the shirttail, stopping his progress. "We'll all go together," Mulder intoned. Will looked contrite and nodded, taking his father's outstretched hand. When they came out into the fresh air, the sun was setting, throwing the surrounding woods into deep shadows. Mulder had Missy in one arm, his other arm around Scully who was cradling Sammi. William was holding tight to Skinner's hand, but occasionally would reach over and take the hand of his new friend. Friend stopped and William pulled on Skinner's hand to alert him. "It's time for me to leave you," Friend said as he bent low to speak directly to William. "Are you gonna come back?" Will asked. For the first time since he'd arrived, Friend smiled faintly. "If you need me, I will be there." Scully stepped over to the man, put a free hand on his arm. "Who are you? Why did you help us?" "I was sent to help you. There are others like me. We will always be watching." He reached toward her and gently pulled at the cross hanging from her neck. His smile returned for a moment as he looked into her eyes. He then reached under his collar and pulled out a tiny silver colored chain. On the end was a charm of several multicolored loops, interlocked. "We also believe," he said. "The colonization. It's set for eight years. Will it happen?" Mulder asked. Friend looked him in the eye. "Not if we can help it." "What can we do, how can we prevent it?" Skinner asked. "That is not your concern. Trust me when I tell you that we will not allow it to happen." "So what are we supposed to do now?" Mulder asked. "Love each other," Friend said quietly. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, right before their eyes. No one moved for several minutes. Skinner was beginning to wonder if the others were even breathing. Suddenly, one of the twins let out a high-pitched squeal, followed immediately by the other. Scully looked over at her partner. "They're starving. Let's get home." Mulder nodded. Skinner automatically picked up William and the three adults carried the three children back to the house. As they approached the structure, Scully stopped short. The house was in an uproar. Several sheriffs' deputies were searching the backyard and two approached them, hands on holstered weapons. "Identify yourselves, please," one of the deputies asked with barely veiled intent to fire laced through his calm demeanor. "I'm Ellery Hale, this is my wife Dana and our children. This is Special Agent Walter Skinner with the FBI," Mulder said calmly, his movements slow and measured to show no sign of threat. "It's all right, Deputy! Those are the victims," called out Peter Kallenbrunner, coming down the steps of the back porch. He reached the group and vigorously shook Skinner's hand. "I was certain we'd find you dead," he said, then dropped his gaze in contrition when he realized he'd spoken the words in front of William. "My friend killed the bad guy!" William announced proudly. Glances were exchanged between Mulder, Scully and Skinner and Scully spoke up. "William, you've had a big day -- " She was interrupted by a squeal from the back porch. "Oh my god, you're safe! Oh, thank God, thank God!" Mary C. came rushing down the steps and swept William in her arms, kissing his head, before turning to kiss both the babies. "Oh, I was so worried! I got here and Agent Coleman was on the floor -- " "_Kallenbrunner_" Peter corrected with a slight roll of his eyes. " -- and we called the sheriff. They searched the house, we couldn't find anything. The agent said one of the construction workers took the babies and someone took William and I was terrified -- " "MC, we're fine," Scully assured their friend. "Would you mind taking Will up to the bathroom and give him a quick bath. He's filthy from running through the caves. I need to feed the girls someplace quiet. Ellery, Walter, I'll let you handle the nice deputies." Scully and Mary C. beat a fast exit into the house. "Should we be taking the kids to the hospital to have them checked out?" one of the deputies asked. "No," Kallenbrunner said, shaking his head. "They appear fine and they're in good hands now. Let's take this inside so these gentlemen can make a statement. But remember what I told the sheriff, this family is in the Witness Protection Program and there will be some questions they aren't at liberty to answer." Mulder shot Kallenbrunner a grateful look. Skinner gave him a nod in appreciation for his quick thinking. Later that night, after the children were tucked in, as well as the two houseguests, Mulder lay on their bed on his back, hands locked behind his head, deep in thought. "I'm exhausted," Scully said tiredly as she crawled into bed next to her partner. "Hey, plan on getting under the covers?" He looked over at her with a befuddled expression and only acknowledged her question when she pulled on the blankets under his back. "Oh, yeah," he said, rolling over to allow her to pull the bedding down and then helping tug it in place. Almost instantly, his hands were again behind his head and he was back to staring at the ceiling. Scully turned off the bed table lamp and plunged the room into darkness. It had taken Scully some time to get used to the pitch-blackness that was night in the mountains. Having spent the better part of her life in medium to large cities, the absence of light pollution was a difficult adjustment. Mulder once told her he only got used to it when he was living with Gibson Praise in a trailer in the middle of the New Mexico desert. Finally, after two years, the darkness had become comforting to Scully. When there was a full moon, the light was almost too bright. She remembered how the twins were most likely conceived on a night with a full moon. She lay there in the darkness, studying her partner in his contemplative state. She knew what he was thinking about. It had been in the back of her mind all evening. Through the commotion, the police statements, she'd thought of little else. Even while the deputies were traipsing over her flower and vegetable gardens looking for possible footprints to a man that had been rendered a pile of carbonized shavings in a cavern in the mountain, she'd asked herself the question a thousand times. Now she wanted his thoughts on the matter. "Mulder, do you think it's over?" He lay there a moment and just when she was ready to ask the question a second time, he rolled on his hip and drew her toward him. "I have no reason and very little evidence to believe it's over, Scully." She tensed at his words and her heart fell. "But I do." She looked at him, just making out his eyes in the gloom. "I do believe it's over," he repeated, speaking distinctly. "You believe Friend was sent to help us?" she asked. "I believe that there is something going on out there that we have very little knowledge of. I don't know if we're even ready to look beyond the veil, as it were. But I also think there are forces at work that we do understand, in a rudimentary way and those forces are working on our behalf." She smiled at him. "Is that an agnostic's explanation of God?" she teased. He smiled back at her. "I haven't been an agnostic for quite some time, I'll have you know. I've seen too many miracles to doubt the existence of a higher power. I don't know if the only way to find it is weekly attendance at Mass or life as a hermit. I just know that you've given me what faith I have and it's in that light that I can believe we are finally safe." "I believe it, too," she said. She laid her hand on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his leg. Their foreheads touching, they fell into a deep and restful sleep. The Hale Household the next morning It seemed a little odd, sitting around the table eating pancakes, but Walter Skinner welcomed the feeling of normalcy it gave. Kallenbrunner chatted with William about his lego dinosaurs, Mulder dabbed maple syrup on Missy's lips when Scully wasn't watching and Walter sat happily cradling Samantha in his arms. It was all so peaceful and quiet. "Walter, I think your cell phone is ringing," Scully said, breaking the spell. Skinner looked up, confused. "Remember, you were almost out of battery. You put it on my charger in the living room." He nodded and got up, placing Sammi in her mother's arms. As he made his way into the living room, Skinner almost resented the intrusion of the phone. He wasn't ready to leave this place and go back to the way things were. "Skinner," he said gruffly. "Walter? Walter, this is Kim. How are you? I was beginning to get worried again." He relaxed at the sound of her voice. "Kim, I'm sorry, I've been so busy. I'm fine. I have a lot to tell you. How are things going out there?" "That's what I'm calling about. Walter, the Director has been looking for you all yesterday. Seems there's been some sort of hearing on your demotion. He needs to talk to you immediately." This was it, he thought. He was being fired. Over the phone, no less. "Kim, can you put me into his office?" "Sure, hang on." Back in the kitchen "So there's no mention of the trial anywhere?" Scully asked again as she placed Sammi in her infant seat near Mulder. "Nothing. No mention of the trial, the conviction or the sentencing," Kallenbrunner assured her. "And I checked the military databases as much as I could. I have some friends in the JAG office at Miramar. They came up with nothing, too." "So if the trial never happened -- " Mulder started. " -- you were never found guilty," Scully finished. She chewed on her lip for a minute as she flipped pancakes on the griddle. "I'm a free man," Mulder said in a whisper. "You were never anything but a free man. I'm not even sure if the trial was other than a hoax, and excuse to -- " Kallenbrunner stopped when he glanced over at William, who was listening intently to the adults' conversation. " -- eliminate certain problems," he said cryptically. Mulder snorted at being labeled a 'problem', but understood the tact Kallenbrunner was using to spare his son. "Then we could go back home," he said quietly. "Well, there is the matter of being dead. At least that's how your disappearance was handled. When you didn't surface with Agents Doggett and Reyes and they both testified that they last saw you with helicopters firing on your vehicle . . . All of that could be overturned, of course, with proper documentation." Walter Skinner reappeared in the doorway, looking shaken, but extremely happy. "I've been reinstated," he said simply. Scully was the first to give him a congratulatory hug. "That's great news, Walter. Back to being an AD, it must feel wonderful. But what happened?" He shook his head as he sat down and Scully dropped a plate of pancakes in front of him. "The Director didn't give me any details. Just said that OPR had reviewed my demotion and found some of the testimony and evidence collected at the time was invalid. Then he asked me if I wanted my old title back. Of course, I said yes." "I guess that means the FBI is finally rid of those who were fighting against us," Mulder said thoughtfully. "Our friend was very busy," Kallenbrunner said softly. "Mulder, I hope you don't mind," Skinner interrupted everyone's silence. "I spoke briefly on your behalf." Mulder's eyes narrowed but before he could speak, Skinner jumped in. "I simply said that there might be some evidence that you were not killed in the desert. I didn't give him any details. Basically, I was paving the way. If you want to come back to your old lives, you should have that option. It's the least I could do." He looked over at the two young people. Mulder was avoiding everyone's looks, even Scully's. "Look, if what Will's Friend said was correct, there is not longer a threat. But there are still things that go unexplained, still cases that need your expertise. All I'm saying is that if you want to come back, I'll do everything in my power to make that possible. You can come back to DC; Maggie can see the kids whenever she wants. It will be as if the last three years never happened." Mulder looked down at his sleeping daughters and back up at his former boss. "I need to put the girls down," he said abruptly. Picking up both infant seats, he hurried up the stairs. "Dana, I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn," Skinner apologized sadly. "No, Walter, what you did was very thoughtful. We just have a lot to think about right now." She heard his footsteps on the stairs, but didn't follow him out the front door. She chatted with Skinner and Kallenbrunner and decided to give Mulder some time. But she vowed to herself that if he didn't reappear in an hour, she would look for him. Mulder hadn't intended to go running, but found his feet in a steady rhythm on his old path. It helped a little. The sun was out, the day was warm, but this path ran near and through the trees, so the shade helped cool him, along with the soft summer breeze. He was trying hard not to think, not to let himself imagine all the doors that were suddenly popping open after being closed to them for so long. He ran right past them the first time, but when they appeared again, he had to slow down and stop. "Hey, guys," he said, as if it were perfectly natural to see three friends who had been dead for two years lounging beside the side of a dirt running path. "Mulder, you're lookin' good," Langly said with a smug smile. "You took our advice," Byers said with a slight tilt of his head. "'Bout damn time you came to your senses," Frohike added. "Oh, by the way, the girls are the spitting image of Scully. God does answer prayers," he said with a wink. Mulder bowed his head to accept the good-natured abuse but raised his eyes to his soulful companions. "We have the opportunity to go back," he said quietly. "Mulder, look at all you have right now. You have a family, a woman who adores you, three kids who need you," Byers said, ticking the points off on the ends of his fingers. "Do you really want to screw with that?" "Scully wants to see her mom," Mulder interjected, toeing at the dirt. "I don't see where seeing Mrs. Scully and you guys finally having a normal life are mutually exclusive," Frohike intoned. "This isn't really us. We aren't the Hales. My name isn't Ellery," Mulder pointed out. "Yes it is. As much as it was ever Fox Mulder," Frohike retorted. "Mulder, you gave up everything in that old life. You deserve this life. You deserve to be happy. Take what you deserve. Grab hold of it and don't let go." "They have a point." Mulder startled when he heard Scully's voice so close behind him. He spun and she was standing there, smiling. "Good to see you guys again," she said to the apparitions. "Dana, you look truly lovely," Frohike said with a sigh. "What he said," Langly added. "It's good to see you again, Dana. And the kids are beautiful, but then how could they be otherwise?" "Thank you, John. We're pretty proud of them." "Mulder, all we're saying is that you have a good thing now. Don't blow it. The threat is over, the aliens have other things to worry about -- each other -- and you can have this life," Frohike said emphatically. "But what about the Truth?" Mulder asked. "We've seen The Truth, Mulder. We know exactly where it is. The Truth . . . is in here, my friend." Frohike stepped forward, lightly touching Mulder's chest. "And here," he said, pointing to Scully. "That's all the truth you need to know." "If we don't go back, how will we see your mom?" Mulder asked, his eyes glistening with tears. Scully put her hand on her partner's arm. "Maybe there's another way." When they made it back to the house, Mary C. was sitting in the kitchen, eyeing the two men across from her. From the look in her eye, Scully figured they were both toast if either of them moved an inch. Mary C. was tapping her finger on the wooden tabletop and giving them her best 'I'm the mother of five boys, don't mess with me' look. Skinner and Kallenbrunner appeared suitable nervous. "MC, we just went out for a walk," Scully said, noting that MC had a cup of coffee in front of her already. "I brought by the envelopes for the labels I left yesterday," Mary C. said evenly. "Oh, yeah. In all the commotion, I almost forgot about the church picnic." Mary C. flashed her a look that said she had to be out of her mind to forget such an important event, but she said nothing. "Walter, Peter, did you get a chance to meet Mary C. Hawthorne?" Kallenbrunner nodded meekly, Skinner just shook his head. "MC, this is our old boss, Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Special Agent Peter Kallenbrunner was . . ." Scully stopped, hesitant to get into how they had crossed path with the former prosecutor. "We worked closely on a trial once," Kallenbrunner supplied. Mary C. frowned. "So you really were FBI agents," she said slowly. "What we told you when Ellery was in the hospital is absolutely the truth, MC," Scully said, sitting down next to her friend. "All of it." "Joe just figured you were telling us that because you were in the Witness Protection Program, that Ellery was an accountant for the Sopranos or something," MC said with a shake of her head. "So if these two have shown up on your doorstep, what does that mean?" Scully looked over at Skinner for a moment. "It means we have options we didn't have before. I'm not sure what it means yet. I know we've got some decisions to make." "Let us know if you need help moving," MC said in a choked voice and stood up quickly, leaving the room on almost a dead run. Scully caught her by the door. "MC, wait, please," Scully called out. "Please, wait." She stopped with her hand on the screen door and turned to her friend. "Dana, I don't mean to rain on your parade, really. It's just, well, we're gonna miss you so much," MC said, tears streaking her cheeks. Scully sniffed back tears of her own, but stepped forward, taking MC into a hug. "Who says we're going anywhere?" "But your old life, you can have it back now. I don't know much about it, but it meant something to you. And your families, they're all back east somewhere. You'll want to be closer to them, especially with Will and the girls." Scully pushed back so she could look her friend in the eye. "My brother lives, or at least he was living, in San Diego. My other brother lives in whatever port he's assigned. My mom is used to traveling to see her grandkids. As for Ellery, we're all the family he has." "You mean Mulder," MC said as she wiped at her cheeks. "You called him Ellery." Scully chuckled. "I think, given a chance, he'd prefer to be called Ellery. He never really liked his name." That night, after dinner, Mulder watched as Scully dialed a number on the phone. Skinner was playing with Will in the living room, Kallenbrunner was on a flight back to LA. It was just the two of them in the kitchen. He knew the minute the other end of the line picked up. "Hello, Mom?" Epilogue Helena Airport July 3, 2004 11 am William was climbing the metal rail that cordoned off the ticket counters. Mulder was chewing absently on a few stray sunflower seeds he brought in from the car. Scully was pushing the twins in their stroller, back and forth, back and forth. With the exception of the children, the two adults looked more like they were waiting for their turn at the dentist than greeting a beloved family member. Maggie Scully had been overjoyed to hear from her daughter. She was even more pleased to hear that her dream was accurate, and that William was back with his parents along with two baby sisters. There was little to cloud the overwhelming bliss or so it seemed until Maggie asked when they were coming home. Hence the apprehension of the two partners. After some thought and discussion, both Mulder and Scully decided to decline Skinner's offer to help them return to their old life. Instead, they asked his assistance in making their new identities permanent. He had agreed and had been keeping them apprised of his progress. By the end of the summer, Mulder would legally be G. Ellery Hale. All that remained, he joked uneasily, was to make Scully legal. And that was another topic of dissent. Scully argued that what they had was enough. Mulder fought that if they were truly getting out of the car, they needed to make it legal and permanent. All this was debated while feeding and caring for three children under the age of 4. They'd been going back and forth on the subject for almost two weeks and it was starting to wear on both of them. As they were lost in thought, the first passengers started trickling into the main concourse. Will climbed to the top rail of the banister, anxiously searching each face as it appeared. He'd been studying the one photograph Scully still had of her mother, a snapshot taken at Will's baby shower and cut down to fit inside her wallet. Suddenly, the boy let out a war whoop. "It's Gran'ma! I see her, it's my Gran'ma!!" he yelled, leaping off the railing and dodging between adults and pull behind luggage. Mulder had to duck to keep an eye on the child, but after a moment, the small boy had reached his destination. When Maggie finally appeared, she was carrying Will in her arms, showering him with kisses. "Oh, sweet William, Grandma has missed you so much! Look at how big you are. But you know what, I recognized you the minute I saw you coming toward me. You look just like your Mommy at your age. And I think I see a fair amount of your Daddy in that face, too," Maggie cooed happily. She looked over and saw her daughter for the first time in over two years. "Oh, Dana," she said with a gasp. "I promised myself I wasn't going to cry!" she added, but the tears were making a liar of her. "Mom," Scully sobbed and threw her arms around her mother and son. "Oh, I've missed you so much. There have been so many times I just wanted to call you and hear your voice," she choked out through her tears. Maggie looked up and saw Mulder gazing at the reunion with a shy, hesitant smile. "C'mere, Fox! Don't think you're getting out of this!" she chided and reached out her arms to gather him in. Mulder came readily. After a minute, Maggie pulled back. "And who do we have here?" she asked, crouching down to peer into the double stroller. "That's Missy and that's Sammi," William explained as he pointed to each sister in turn. "Missy's the quiet one. Sammi likes to eat," he confided. "So did your Mommy," Maggie told him in a stage whisper that caused the boy to grin up at his mother. "Thanks, Mom," Scully said dryly. "They're beautiful," Maggie said, wiping away a few stray tears. She caressed the cheek of each sleeping baby and then stood up to gaze at her daughter. "I was beginning to think I'd never see you again," she said through fresh tears. "Oh, Mom," Scully said, crying anew and wrapping her mother in her arms once more. "Daddy, why is everybody crying?" William asked, wide eyed and concerned. Mulder was having a bit of difficulty speaking, and had to clear his throat before addressing his son. "We're all just really happy, buddy. It's been a long time since your Mommy and Grandma saw each other and we're just glad we're all together." "That is absolutely right," Maggie agreed emphatically, ruffling the small boy's hair. "Now, let's stop all this blubbering and show me around. I don't think I've ever been to Montana." Maggie and William talked almost all the way back to the house, only occasionally letting the other adults in the conversation. Will told his grandmother about his friend and his Uncle Walter and their other friend Agent Peter. Maggie frowned at some of the boy's recollections, especially the part where they were hunting in the caves for the twins. Scully bit her lip and kept silent, Mulder tried unsuccessfully to change the subject. Finally, he just assured Maggie that the matter was resolved and everyone was back safe and sound. As they pulled up the drive Scully first frowned slightly and then broke into a big smile. Across the porch was a hand made sign proclaiming 'Welcome Grandma Maggie' with tiny hand and footprints in different colors decorating the surface. "Meggie helped us make that, Gran'ma. The footprints are from the babies 'coz they like to put their hands in their mouths," he explained seriously. Maggie held back a chuckle and nodded at him. "Babies will do that, yes," she said. As Mulder put the car in park and killed the engine, Maggie looked in wonder at the house. Construction was still proceeding, despite a few days delay and the new addition was finally taking shape. As they got out of the car, a couple and several red headed children all came out of the house and rushed toward the car. "Mom said we have to carry the luggage, Mr. Hale," one boy explained with a slight frown. "Thanks, Jimbo. It's in the trunk here." "Mom, I want you to meet the Hawthornes. This is Mary C. and her husband Joe. The tall boy is their son Josh, then Jimmy, Sean and the little guy is Stephen and this beautiful young lady is our mother's helper, Megan," Scully told her mother with a bright smile. "Everyone, this is my mother, Margaret Scully." Mary C. stepped forward. "It's really a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Scully." "Oh please, call me Maggie. You have such beautiful children! And so many!" "Well, I hear you raised four with a husband at sea," MC said with a grin. "But then, sometimes I think Joe's been at sea for years," she teased. "Hale, I'm getting grief from the woman again," Joe said with a fake pout and sigh. "MC, stop giving Joe grief," Mulder recited, obviously the expected result to Joe's plea. Mary C. laughed, as did Scully and Maggie. "Oh, c'mon. Dana, we brought fried chicken and potato salad. Oh, and Meg made up some PBJs for Will. There's iced tea and lemonade in the fridge. Call us if you need anything, OK?" "Aren't you guys staying for lunch?" Mulder asked as they all headed for the Hawthornes' Town and Country. "Hell, no! We didn't bring _that_ much food!" Joe exclaimed. "Besides, you guys are coming over for a cookout tomorrow night. We'll visit then." He stepped over to lean in close to Mulder. "As mothers-in-law go, she seems like an OK lady," he said in a whisper. Mulder smiled. "She's a keeper, Joe," he replied. Jimmy had set the luggage up in William's room, which would be the guest room during Maggie's visit. Maggie wandered through the downstairs with Scully, her daughter pointing out various items of interest with the enthusiasm of a real estate saleswoman. When they'd finished the tour upstairs in the babies' nursery, Maggie turned and looked at her daughter. "This is your home," she said evenly. Scully bit her lip, slightly flustered at her mother's tone. "Yes, Mom. This is our home. And when it's finished, it's even going to be better. Mulder will have an office, the kids will have their own rooms -- " "What I mean is, this is your _home_, Dana," Maggie repeated. "When I came out here, I was intent on convincing you all to move back to DC, maybe even Baltimore if I could manage it. I wanted you to be close to me." Tears started to fill her eyes and her voice strained as she continued. "But I see that you have a home here. You have friends who love you and help you, and a lovely house that looks so right for you. I can't ask you to leave this," she said, finally letting the tears streak down her cheeks. "Oh, Mom," Dana said, taking her mother in her arms. "We'll visit, I promise. Mulder promises, too. Christmas, Easter, summer vacations when school is out, we'll come out east. And you are always welcome here! Now you have the ocean and the mountains as vacation spots." Maggie smiled through her tears. "Well, I always wanted a little retreat in the mountains." "I hear sniffling in here. Look, I'll allow it today, but tomorrow, no more crying," Mulder said with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He was carrying both twins and Will was hanging on his leg. "You are absolutely right, Fox, no more crying!" Maggie said, taking one of the babies in her arms. "Ellery, Mom. His name is Ellery now," Dana said softly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I keep forgetting. You mean you'll let people call you Ellery when Fox upset you so?" Maggie asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief also. "It's not a small, furry, woodland creature. I can live with Ellery. Even if I would have been roughed up on the playground just as much growing up. But since I didn't go through that, I'm fine with it." "I still get to call him Mulder," Dana confided only to her mother. "MC makes wonderful fried chicken and I'm sure there's enough to feed an army, so let's go down to the kitchen and eat." Will tugged on his father's leg as the others started down the stairs. "Can we take Gran'am and show her the old man?" "After lunch, buddy," Mulder advised. "We'll show her everything!" "Except the bad guy in the cave," Will nodded. "You're right, buddy. We'll definitely skip the bad guy in the cave. Remember, we don't talk about that around your grandma." "She'd get scared?" "Pretty much, yeah," Mulder allowed. "OK, Dad. It'll be our secret! I hope Meggie made my sam'wich. I don' like fry chicken." Mulder sighed. What else could he expect from their son? The whole incident seemed to have run off the little boy like water on a duck's back. He just wondered if Skinner could arrange to keep the X Files on hold until Will was out of college. the end