Chapter 1: First Date

1.
Pinecrest, Virginia; 31 Bridle Path Way
April 30th, 3:45 P.M.

"Mulder, how's everything going?"

Scully was on the cell phone for the fifth time since she'd left
him with the baby to go shopping. Her first solo journey out of
the house since Kit's birth.

Mulder balanced the receiver between his shoulder and ear. "Fine.
Everything's fine."

He glanced down at his son cradled in his arms. The baby cracked
his eyes open but then let his long, dark lashes drop again. To
Mulder, Kit's eyes seemed huge, a swirl of blue and green and
gray, depending on his mood.

Scully's voice snapped him back to the conversation. "Has he been
hungry?" She wasn't satisfied with his assurances.

"I've given him a bottle, yes."

"All right," she said grudgingly. "I'm going to be at least
another hour. The traffic is horrible! But take another
container of my milk out of the freezer. Just to be sure."

He was losing patience. "There's still some left in the bottle.
It'll be fine. I've gotta go. Diaper change time!"

He cut the connection before she could go over that procedure with
him again.

He swung the drowsing baby up onto his shoulder and began
chatting. "You and me, Captain. We menfolk can take care of
business." Kit's response was to latch onto Mulder's neck like
some toothless vampire, the baby's drool pooling in his
collarbone.

There were more immediate concerns. Recoiling slightly at the
odor rising from his son's diaper, Mulder hurried to the changing
table they'd set up the laundry room off the kitchen.

He was just beginning to unfasten the pins at Kit's hips when the
front door bell rang.

Grumbling, he picked the now squirming baby up and went to answer
it.

His heart plunged when he peered through the peephole.

Opening the door, he said, "Mother."

Teena Mulder stood on the porch. Despite her perfect coif and
smooth Chanel overcoat, her white knuckles clutching her purse
strap betrayed her tension.

"Fox." Her gaze immediately settled on the baby.

Mulder had to move aside to let her in. "Please come in. It's
cold. Kit needs his diaper changed," he called over his shoulder
as he hurried back to changing table. Kit had begun the low pig
squeals that signaled his displeasure.

"Fox..." His mother was wavering in the doorway as he began his
task.

Mulder didn't know what to say. He concentrated on wiping Kit's
small buttocks clean.

She slowly entered the room, watching him. "Why didn't you call
me?"

He tossed away the soiled wipe. "How did you know?"

He turned to be able to look into her eyes. She raised her chin
and met his gaze with her usual cool, bland gaze. "A friend
thought I should know I'm a grandmother."

He turned back to his task, his hands trembling slightly as he
pulled a new diaper off the stack. He had his answer.

She peered over his shoulder to watch. "He's not circumcised?"

"Scully doesn't believe it's medically necessary," he muttered.

Archly, his mother commented, "Oh? And has she had him baptized?"

Gritting his teeth, he replied, "No. We're going to let him
decide those things for himself." As he powdered Kit's bottom, he
reminded her, "You let Dad take Samantha and me to be baptized--"

She tossed her head back, dismissing him. "What was I to do to
stop him?"

He could only shake his head as an answer. It was useless to
challenge her.

She didn't seem to notice. "What's his name?"

"Didn't your 'friend' tell you?" he retorted as he finished
fastening the fresh diaper.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her hand reaching out
to touch his child. He shifted his weight so his body blocked her
move. She stepped back towards the doorway.

He knew what her response would be when he told her the name.
"Isaac Patrick."

Sure enough, she tossed up her hands, and shook her head. "Good
Lord! That old rag seller!"

"Yes, Mother. That old rag seller." He'd swung around to face
her; Kit tucked up under his chin. Ignoring the scene, his son
had fallen back to sleep, curling into his odd turtle-out-of-its-
shell shape. "Was there anything else?"

She seemed stunned. "What?"

"Did you want anything? Because I think you should go."

She hadn't taken her overcoat off or put down her purse. She
played at the buttons of her coat now, and let her eyes roam the
room, lighting everywhere but on him. "I--"

He heard a cold, brutal voice cut her off. "Okay. Then I think
you should go."

Her head dipped in a royal nod of acceptance. "I will."

He didn't show her out. Instead, through the living room window,
he watched her car pull out of the drive and slowly move down the
street. He was surprised that there was no silhouette on the
passenger side.

Kit began to fuss. Mulder rocked him, trying to settle him down.
In the kitchen, he made a disturbing discovery. The milk level in
the bottle was much lower than he thought.

The rest of Scully's milk was frozen solid. "Dammit!" Glancing
down at Kit's perplexed face as the baby sucked the last of the
milk down, he apologized. "Sorry, Captain. Maybe--"

He opened the door of the microwave and then hesitated as he
prepared to shove the container of milk into it. No, that would
kill the good thingies in the milk. Scully's lactation lesson
number 64, now only vaguely remembered.

"Now what?" he said out loud and got only some gasps of
frustration from his warm bundle. He began to pace and then
snatched up the phone. It rang before he could dial Scully.

"Mulder? It's me."

"Scully--"

"I'm still on the freeway! Dammit! I'm stuck behind an
accident!" she sputtered down the line at him.

"Are you all right?" he quickly asked, switching Kit to the arm
furthest away from the receiver so his low cries couldn't be
heard.

No such luck. "What's wrong?"

He put all of his powers of conviction in his voice. "Nothing--"

She growled, "Shit!"

Swaying in place to attempt to rock Kit to sleep, with no results,
he asked, "What now?"

Sputtering, she said, "I had a let-down when I heard Kit cry.
Dammit! Now I have milk all over my sweater."

Mulder met Kit's wet, sad eyes with equal despair. So close and
yet so far!

"Just drive safely. We'll be here when you get home, don't
worry."

Again, he cut her off before she could protest. Kit filled in the
protest, beginning to cry in earnest. Futilely, he patted the
baby's back, trying to soothe him. "You miss your Mommy, huh,
Kit? So do I."

As the minutes ticked by, he walked around and around the kitchen,
staring at the frozen milk in its rubber tub, willing it to melt.
A small puddle developed under the block, but it was freezing
cold.

Kit's cries became steady and strong. Widening his circle to
include the living room, Mulder peered out of the blinds to see if
his neighbors had gathered on his muddy front lawn, brought by the
wails of a tortured child, ready to snatch this neglected baby
from his incompetent father.

Upset, Kit began to spit up what little food he did have in his
stomach. Mulder was nearly sobbing himself.

"Oh, Kit! What'd you do that for?" He lay the wailing baby down
the couch and quickly stripped off his stained sweatshirt. When
he brought Kit back up to his chest, the baby began mouthing at
Mulder's damp pectoral muscle.

At first Mulder was horrified and then a plan formed in his
overwrought mind. Well, not that Kit could get any milk, but
maybe it would calm him to suckle...Mulder tried to adjust Kit to
this unfamiliar position. Scully made it look so easy...

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing?" came from behind him,
startling him to the extent he nearly dropped the baby.

"Scully! Thank god!"

"Yes. I should think so," she fussed.

She had stripped off her coat and was pulling off her milk-stained
sweater as she approached him. "Give him to me."

She settled into the armchair and Kit was immediately silent when
he latched onto her nipple. She was shaking her head and
chuckling. "Mulder! I'm concerned that your harebrained ideas
will spill into parenthood."

He plopped down on the sofa next to his crumpled sweater. "I
forgot--"

Fascinated, he watched as she gently stroked the plump white cheek
of his son. Fine dark hair was finally growing in, creating a
tidy cap on Kit's skull. She wasn't listening.

Her face held the dreamy expression he used to be happy to put
there on a regular basis. She was in that place she went when she
was with their baby. A place he would never be able to go.

He noticed his lips were contracting in unison with Kit's greedy
slurping. Did it taste like normal milk or something more--
better? The way his son acted, you'd think Hollandaise sauce,
rich and almost forbidden in creaminess, was coming out of her
nipples. He remembered the soft texture of her aureole, then the
elastic nub of her nipple. How hard would he have to suck to get
milk?

Leaping up from the couch, snatching up their soiled sweaters, he
hurried from the room, telling her, "I'll soak these sweaters."

Her laggard tone followed him, "All right."

2.
Scully sank deeper into the tub of warm water. This house had
been an extravagance, but she found it hard to feel remorse when
she was in this elevated, deep tub built for two. It had been a
long, cold day trying to find some clothes to fit her new and
fuller figure. Sighing, she lowered herself into the water until
only her head was poking out.

Also, she'd gotten her hair cut, at last, to a short, layered
style. Now it would be a tumble of curls if she didn't straighten
it mercilessly. It didn't matter. She still hadn't decided when
she would go back to work, or in what capacity when she did. For
now, she couldn't seem to summon interest in her career. All of
her priorities had changed.

The reason entered the room, carried by Mulder, and she couldn't
help but raise her arms. "The water's cooled enough. I'll bathe
him."

He shook his head, but smiled. "Let me take his diaper off first.
Enjoying your bath?"

She returned his smile. "Yes."

"I was going to shower." Handing the now naked baby to her, he
asked, "Care to join me?"

"No, I've got my man." She gently lowered her son into the warm
water, dunking him up and down.

Mulder looked disappointed, but said with a grin in his voice, "My
waterbabies."

She had drawn her knees up and propped Kit's head up so he could
see her as she made funny faces at him. "Yep! Wanna go for a
boat ride, Captain?"

Kit only gurgled in reply, then screwed up his face in his now
familiar, me-hungry, expression.

Quickly, she brought him to her breast and dribbled water on his
fat belly as he fed. She glanced up at Mulder. Like a large toad
on his stool, he was perched on the toilet; his long legs pulled
up, watching them with a strange look on his face.

"What?" she asked in a low voice, the room suddenly seeming very
warm.

Jumping up from the toilet, he tossed over his shoulder, "I'll
shower downstairs. Don't want to disturb you."

She shot a questioning look down at Kit, who ignored her in his
greed. Reviewing the past few moments, she thought she could
figure out the source of Mulder's discomfort. She was pretty damn
sure she'd seen a huge erection tenting his baggy sweatpants as he
rushed out of the room.

The now familiar lethargy that came with breast-feeding overcame
her and she settled her head back on the edge of the tub. Sex.
What was that? So far, things hadn't been going well at all in
that department.

She'd torn somewhat in the frantic birth and, for once, she'd been
slow to heal. Despite the doctor's okay, their first attempts had
to be aborted. Now she was sure she was physically fine, it was
just a matter of finding time and energy. They'd gotten pretty
far the other night, hands and lips traveling down all the old
roads, before Kit's cry had taken her away. By the time she'd
gotten back, Mulder had been sound asleep.

Hardly flattering, but she didn't blame him. He'd started back to
work, although only on deskwork. Still, he gamely would get up to
retrieve Kit for her every two hours in the night, settling back
to his side of the bed with the baby nestled between them like a
bundling board.

Kit was finished eating. Bringing him up to her shoulder, she
whispered in his ear, "Maybe tonight, Captain. Do I feel lucky?"

By the time she'd dried and powdered him, rocked him to sleep, and
had done her few nighttime rituals, Mulder was in bed with the
light out. Slipping under the covers, she wiggled up behind him,
letting her hand creep over his hip, under his pajama waistband,
along his groin to encounter...a flaccid penis.

"Where'd my friend go?" she asked, slightly taken aback.

Half asleep, Mulder mumbled, "Oh. Uh...I took care of that myself.
I didn't--"

Fury and frustration on three hours of sleep brought quick tears
to her eyes. "Fine." She flipped over faster than a McDonald's
hamburger, and pulled the coverlet up tight under her chin.

His remorseful tone followed her. "Scully? I could...what do you
want?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Go to sleep."

Now that she was royally pissed off at him, Mulder figured he
might as well tell her what had happened. "My mother came by
today."

"What!?" She flipped back over and her could see the whites of
her eyes gleaming bright panic in the dark room.

"Yes. I think that old smoking bastard told her about Kit," he
said.

"You hadn't called her?" Scully was stroking his arm now, her
anger apparently forgotten.

"No. I couldn't think of what to say," he muttered.

Her voice was low and strained. "Do you think we should be
worried?"

"I'm assuming he's just mind-fucking with us. He can't let go of
his 'family'. I'm sure that's all." He hoped he sounded
confident.

She pulled his arms around her and burrowed her head under his
chin. "Okay. I hope so."

Her body felt strong and lithe under his touch, the slight tension
still in her muscles. He squeezed the long muscles running down
her stiff back. "I know so."

3.
FBI Building
May 4th, 5:05 P.M.

Mulder checked his calendar again for the twentieth time that
afternoon. Yep, he didn't have it wrong, 7:30 PM, tonight.

Scully had dropped by the office with a bawling Kit after a
doctor's appointment.

Tiff had seemed to pretend not to notice and then had to stifle a
chuckle when Scully had passed off the squirming, whining baby to
him, with, "Take him. He's cranky and so am I."

Scully herself had written the numbers in red as she leaned across
his desk, her torso pressing his stilled hands down on his
paperwork. It had been just before she'd left, after Kit had spit
up on his tie, after she had breast-feed the baby in front of a
horrified Skinner and a continually bemused Tiff and after she had
thrown a stinky diaper in his waste basket. As she'd written the
time, she'd whispered in his ear, "Our first date."

He knew what she meant. It was time to resume marital relations.
Or to put it more concisely, to start marital relations properly,
with Scully's belly flat and firm again.

No more of this 'fooling around' they'd been doing; the term he
and the other boys used in high school when they didn't want to
admit they weren't actually having sex with their girlfriends,
only petting.

He laughed suddenly and Tiff shot him a worried look. Scully and
he were finally going to have sex. How long had it been? He
broke out in a sweat. Should he stop and get some wine? He should
have sent flowers. He dialed the florist frantically. Too late.
He would have to pick up a dozen roses on the way home from work.
It was their first date after all.

He could see Tiff watching him out of the corner of his eye. She
just kept shaking her head. Fuck her. He was a man with a few
things on his mind.

4.
He was at his own front door with his arms loaded down with
champagne bottles and flowers and had to stop himself from ringing
the bell. He wasn't arriving for a real date, for Christ's sake!

He was greeted by Kit's siren-like wail as he entered the foyer.
Scully was walking the baby around the living room, trying to calm
him.

Mulder stopped in the entryway and watched her. Well, she had
been beautifully coordinated at some point this evening, he was
sure. She was wearing a long, tight velvet dress, a dark deep
red, the color of desire. It was cut low in the back to show off
her gorgeous string of pearls spine. He couldn't see the bodice,
she had a squirming red-faced baby pressed to it right now, but he
was sure it was cut low too. She was barefoot, but he saw the
high Fuck-Me shoes tossed aside.

Scully suddenly realized Mulder was watching her and she jumped
with a start. Having a baby had dulled her instincts and she
didn't like that. She couldn't stop her voice from being snippy.
"You're finally home."

He looked stunned and then said, "Yeah, I'm sorry--" He glanced
down at his offerings.

She just couldn't stop herself. "I already have wine and
flowers."

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he tossed his things onto the console
table and came into the room.

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry too. Could you take him for
just one minute so I can check on the dinner?"

"I'd be happy to take him," Mulder said stiffly.

She bit back a bitter comment about the diaper-changing scoreboard
of late and handed him Kit before fleeing to the kitchen and the
smell of burning lasagna.

As she threw the casserole dish up on the counter, she noticed Kit
had spit up on her dress. That was pretty. It wouldn't come out
of velvet; that was for sure. She wiped off as much as she could
and sighed. This wasn't going the way she planned at all.

Mulder joined her in the kitchen. "We could order take-out," he
suggested.

She was still in the snippy mood. "I guess. Where's Kit?"

"I put him down." Mulder reached for her like a hungry baby
himself.

"He'll be crying again in a second, I tell you," she warned as she
moved away. She saw the hurt expression in his eyes.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to try to get in the
mood. "Why don't you order some food? I'll go check on him."

Mulder called after her as she hurried from the room, "I told you.
He's fine. You're just going to get him stirred up."

He didn't understand. She had heard other women say that about
their husbands but she'd thought a man as sensitive as Mulder...

He didn't understand that she knew if her child needed her. He
would never have this connection.

Kit was lying in his crib, gulping back quiet sobs. She quickly
picked him up and moved to her rocking chair. They rocked for a
few minutes and she started feeding him. Before he could finish
eating, he finally went to sleep. With a slight, pained grimace,
she rearranged her breasts in the bodice of her dress.

She found Mulder in the living room, with the TV on, flipping
through the channels. Great. Now she had to seduce him out of a
pout. She came up behind him and ran her fingers through his
hair, massaging his scalp, and he purred like a jaguar. Well,
that was easy.

"Where did I leave those shoes?" she said, putting some sexiness
in her tone.

He chuckled. "Oh, yes. Please."

She wedged her feet into the shoes with pain. They fit a year
ago. She had to admit it was no longer swelling and realize her
feet were now larger. She almost sobbed out loud at the idea she
was going to have to replace all of her beloved shoes.

She must put on a brave face for Mulder. She pivoted and
sauntered towards him. He seemed to appreciate the show. He
reached up and drew her down onto the couch. Immediately, his
tongue went into her mouth and his long fingers slipped down the
cleavage of her dress. Finesse appeared to be gone, replaced by
over-due need.

She gave out a gasp of pain as he gripped her breast. They were
still too sensitive. She reached up and tugged at his wrist.

He looked at her with drugged eyes and then saw what was wrong.
"Sorry," he mumbled as he pushed the strap of her dress down to
reveal the offended breast, the blue veins pulsing under the white
tissue. He dipped his head to gently lick away the soreness.

That was better. She moaned in encouragement and let her eyes
drift shut, cradling his head as he began to suckle. He gave out
a 'glug' and pulled away in surprise.

"What?" she asked.

He looked embarrassed and his lips were pursed as though he needed
to spit but didn't know where.

"What's wrong?" she asked again, and then realized what had
happened.

She started to laugh, but he said, "Uh, nothing," as he quickly
gulped down the mouthful of her milk.

If he wasn't going to keep his sense of humor, this wasn't going
to work, she thought with fury. Wait until he found a few other
surprises she had hidden under these clothes, including scar
tissue and stretch marks.

Just then, the doorbell rang with the food delivery and Kit
resumed wailing. They both jumped up from the couch to go to their
duties.

The three of them sat around the table, the adults disgruntled.
Scully hadn't bothered to light the candles. They shoveled their
dinners into their mouths as Kit fussed and whined in her ear,
draped over her shoulder.

Mulder kept shooting her looks as though he wanted to say
something. She dared him, she just dared him. The tension became
thicker than the congealed, fatty sauce on her pasta.

He waited until she had a stomach full of food to clench down on.
"You know, I think you're clinging to him too much."

Taking a deep breath, she shot back, "Is that your opinion as a
psychologist?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, obviously at war with his
better judgement. It failed, as usual. "No, my opinion as a
psychologist is that you're trying to compensate for your
perceived ambivalent feelings during pregnancy and your fear of
losing him now--" he stopped himself.

She dared him out loud. "And?"

He looked her right in the eye. "And I think you use him as a
buffer against intimacy because you're still not comfortable with
the fact that you somehow ended up married to me without all your
usual careful planning."

Chapter 2: Heaven and Hell

1.
Pinecrest, Virginia; 31 Bridle Path Way
May 4th, 11:25 P.M.

Mulder felt lucky to just be in the den. Scully's expression as
he'd delivered his opinion as a psychologist had suggested she had
the hole in the backyard halfway dug and his fresh carcass lying
in a wheelbarrow beside her as she worked. A retreat had seemed
like the best tactical move at that moment.

A retreat. With a laugh, that's what Scully had christened the
den as the movers arranged his old dark couch, fish tank and desk.
It was a retreat all right, right back to Before.

After he'd skulked to their bedroom for a tee shirt and sweats,
there were muffled sounds from the other rooms. He'd refused to
try to identify them. It had been silent for a while, which would
suggest Kit had finally gone down for the night but he certainly
wasn't going to leave this room to find out.

A ringing interrupted Mulder's dwellings on self-pity. He picked
up the phone but heard only a dial tone. The ringing continued.
He realized it was coming from his trench coat, hanging on the
coat tree in the corner. His cell-phone.

His brow creased in curiosity, he pulled the phone out of the deep
pocket and pushed the talk button. "Mulder."

There was a moment of silence. Then a low voice came to his ear.
"Mulder, it's me."

He was hit with a punch. "Uggh?" was all that came out of his
mouth.

The low voice continued, "Mulder, can I come over? I have
something to show you."

His eyebrows raised and he stared at the closed door of the den.
"Uh...what about the baby?" He hated himself for shattering the
fantasy so soon, but he didn't want to be disappointed again.

"Tiff has taken him until tomorrow. Can I come over? It's
important." Her voice pulsed with a rhythm that was beginning to
vibrate throughout his body.

He jumped up from the sofa like he was being called to order and
barked into the phone in a ridiculously high voice. "Of course!
Come as soon as possible!" He dropped back on the sofa, covering
his eyes. Idiot.

The voice held back a laugh. "Oh, I will."

He better do all he could to make sure this went well. Quickly,
he threw in, "I'm sorry about my remarks," before hitting the
'end' button and throwing the phone in the general direction of
the desk. He pulled his legs together to try to hold his already
throbbing dick down. Mustn't look too eager.

Minutes were ticking by. He strained his ears. What was she
doing? He heard nothing. He glanced at the clock. Fifteen
minutes! Then he chuckled. On a good day, it would take her
forty-five minutes to get to his apartment.

He was chewing on a lint-covered breath mint he'd found in his
coat pocket as he impatiently flipped through a magazine when he
finally heard a knock on the door. He forced his voice low, in
what he hoped was a sexy tone. "Come in."

Tossing the magazine aside as the door swung open, he had to grip
his knees tightly to stop his legs from jumping up and down.
Scully stood in the doorway in her long black trench coat, holding
her briefcase. She had smoothed her hair back down into its
helmet of gold and red. Her make-up was professional.

"Thanks for letting me come over. It's really important," she
said as she strode into the room. He shrugged in what he hoped
was a nonchalant manner.

She began slowly unbuttoning her coat. He leaned forward,
expectant. She would be naked underneath. He just knew it. The
black coat swirled away from her figure to reveal...she wasn't
naked. She wore one of her suits. The periwinkle blue one that
made her eyes almost plastic in the intensity of their color.
Sensible length skirt. Two-inch heels on her black pumps. The
peek of a blouse under the blazer. Wasn't naked under there.
Cross nestled on the collarbone. Nothing in the least bit
provocative. Then why was he so turned on?

She settled in a chair across from him and put her briefcase up on
the coffee table between them. She leaned over to snap it open
and his eyes went right to the slightest bit of cleavage revealed.
She caught him and raised an eyebrow. Bad boy. Oh. It was a
game.

A slow grin crossed his face. She pursed her lips in disapproval
and his cock twitched. "I brought the latest reports from the
blah, blah..." He'd lost his focus already.

He blinked, forcing himself to concentrate. God, what if she was
serious? No sex tonight, Mulder, so I thought we would do some
paperwork. He nodded to her and tried to look like he was
listening. How many times had he done that in the past when in
reality he was listening to the hiss of her hosiery-encased thighs
rubbing together when she crossed them? Like he was right now.

She switched from her right leg over her left to the left over the
right and the skirt edged up just a bit. He leaned his head over
slightly, trying to look up the skirt. Panties?

"Mulder?" She interrupted his inspection.

"Huh?" She had a small smile on her coral lips. Caught. All those
years she must have believed he was thinking such deep thoughts
and sometimes the thoughts weren't any deeper than her core. Her
tight, wet...he crossed his own legs, quickly.

"What do you think?" She was laughing at him inside, he could
tell.

He summoned all of his powers of concentration and started in. He
could play too. She had been going over all the information from
their X-file and about Kit. "I think this was a very good idea,
Scully. A full review of the material is in order. We need to look
at everything, assess the current threat to our child."

She looked slightly perturbed.

"It could take all night." He tried for that sexy voice again and
from the way her plump lips rubbed together, he thought he'd hit
it.

"Yes, that's right. I like your enthusiasm," she purred.

He grinned foolishly again and thought, now what?

What would he have done if he had ever been able to summon up the
courage to make a serious move on her? He really had to thank the
Smoking Man for this. He sure hadn't had the guts to go that one
step over the line. He barked out a laugh.

"What?" Scully asked in her low voice.

One step over the line..."Why don't you come over here and sit
next to me? That way we can look at the reports together." He
tried to keep his voice bland. Must keep the game up for as long
as possible.

She paused for a minute and gnawed on her lower lip until it
swelled out of her small teeth. He had to look away or he knew
he'd burst. He didn't want the game to end too soon.

The hissing of her thighs drew closer and he was enveloped by her
scent as she settled next to him on the sofa.

He had summoned the courage to get her there beside him on the
couch--now what? He reached out with a fumbling hand and she
sucked in a breath. He chickened out at the last moment and
snatched up the bowl of sunflower seeds from the coffee table.
Please god! Let her think he was being coy!

What the hell was wrong with him? This woman was his wife. He
had a child with her. There was no baby between them now,
literally or figuratively. With a start, he realized he was
intimidated because that meant she was Scully again.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and she was rolling
her tongue in her cheek with exasperation. She looked back at him
out of the corner of her eye.

He quickly snatched a seed out of the bowl and lifted towards his
lips. Before he could get the seed to his mouth, her head dipped
in and the tip of her tongue reached out to lift it from his
fingertips, her hair brushing his frozen hand as she moved back.

"I always wanted to try one of these--secretly," she murmured.
She worked the seed to grip it in her jaw and he heard the faint
*crack* of the shell. After working the meat free, she balanced
the empty husk on the end of her tongue and spit it out, managing
to hit the other bowl on the table he kept for this purpose.

He knew his mouth was still hanging open and probably his tongue
was flapping too. If she had ever done anything like that before
he would have had the courage to make a move. He wasn't good at
the move. All the other women he had been with before had made
the first move. Although he would hardly put this up there with
Phoebe sticking her hand down his pants two minutes after they
met, it was enough to encourage him.

Her gaze traveled lazily around the room, caressing the worn
leather of the couch and the varnished surface of his old desk.
He noticed her pale skin and eyes were reflecting the green light
from the fish tank, and he was back in the spaceship holding her
limp form. Her skin had been green then too; her eyes glassy and
her lips parted, gasping for breath. He remembered being
immensely turned on by her at that moment and then horrified with
shame. He welcomed the desire now; it would give him courage.

She broke into his thoughts, somehow reading them. "There're a
lot of secret desires from our past I have stored up," she
whispered, almost too low for him to hear.

He tentatively put a hand on her thigh. She shot him a very
Scully look, freezing and heat-filled at the same moment. He
wasn't discouraged, though. He had the confidence gained by
knowing they shared a crushing mortgage and retirement fund. He
let his hand slip up her thigh and under the thick fabric of her
skirt.

He liked this a lot. He was glad she had started this. This was
a good place to make a new beginning. They were Scully and Mulder
finishing something they should have cleared up a long time ago.

Where next? What had he wanted to do next, say two years ago?
She sat back in the couch, her eyes inviting him to go on.

He pulled his hand off her thigh and she gave the slightest moan
of dismay. He quickly reached for her blazer. He opened the
buttons with an audible popping sound. This thing was tight. She
had to wiggle her shoulders to get out of the blazer. He stared
at the black bra she was wearing under the sheer white blouse.
She followed his gaze down.

"Sorry, it's the only one I have that still fits and isn't a
maternity bra," she said.

"That's okay," he stammered.

His fumbling fingers frantically worked the small buttons loose on
her blouse. "You want me to do that?" she asked.

"God, no," he said feverishly.

He slipped the blouse down, using it to caress her silky skin.

He stared again. Her creamy white breasts were pouring out over
the top of the black lace bra. She shrugged and he thought they
were going to topple out.

"I think it's a good look," he offered and she shot him a quelling
look.

She put her arms around her back to unfasten the bra and he
quickly stopped her. "No. Please, I want to see the whole
picture."

She raised her brows but got up, a bit unsteadily on her heels,
and reached behind to unfasten her skirt instead. He helped her,
gently easing the zipper down over her round, firm bottom.

He slipped the skirt down her thighs, reveling in the hum of the
fabric against her hose. She stood before him in the black lace
underwear, blue hose and black pumps. He flopped back in the
couch and examined her with what he hoped was proper reverence.

The slow smile that formed on her lips told him he had made the
right tribute. It was a humble offering, his silly grin, glazed
eyes and large lump in his sweatpants, but she looked like she
would take it.

She sat on the edge of the coffee table and he heard that
seductive whisper again as she crossed her legs, propped her head
up on her palms with her elbows on her knee. She gave him one of
her straightforward looks.

He tried not to stare into the deep shadow between her breasts.
Instead he let his gaze slip over the curves of her thighs where
they intertwined. He wanted to become a small furry mouse and
slip into those shadows. Make that a large furry mouse, he
thought with a groan as she sucked her plump lower lip into her
mouth.

"Mulder?" she broke into his thoughts.

"Huh?" He wondered if he sounded as stunned as he felt.

"Do you have any ideas?" she asked.

"Ideas?" he moaned as his headed rolled to the side.

"Yeah, ideas. About what to do next." She looked worried.

"I could take my clothes off," he suggested.

She out and out grinned. "Can I do it instead?" she asked.

"Of course!" he gushed. That high voice was back.

She reached down, giving him that view into the valley of desire
between her breasts and grabbed his foot. She tugged first one
sock off and then the next, gathering his feet in her lap. He
dared to wiggle his toes, feeling slippery fabric and the damp
heat of her body under them. She shook her head slightly as she
grasped his narrow long feet tightly. Was he being too forward?

She got a good grip on the cuffs of his sweatpants and arched an
eyebrow at him. He got the idea and lifted his hips as she
yanked. He felt a little ridiculous sprawled on the couch in
nothing but a tee shirt and a bobbing half-mast erection. She
returned to her pose of the thinking woman and he had to glance
away in embarrassment.

He could hear her breathing. He swore he could hear her heart
beating. He had to look back. Her gaze was intense and was
examining his body.

"What cha doin'?" he asked, even more embarrassed.

Glancing up, she pinned him with a gaze that suggested he was a
fool. "I'm looking."

"I know that," he said, exasperated.

"I like to look," she said and her voice was slightly drunk.

"Don't we have this the wrong way around? I didn't think women
were visual, sexually." Damn, he was talking too much!

"Visual was all I had. I'm just...allowing myself to finish
something," she said calmly.

"You've seen me naked before." There was something melancholy
about her manner right now that disturbed him.

"True. But not as Scully." She looked at him for understanding.

He was going to argue the nudity point and then he realized what
she meant.

He wanted to return to the game. "I guess we should wrap things
up," he said in his most professional tone.

She gave his a quick grin and rose from the table. "Yes, I think
so."

This time when she reached behind her to unfasten her bra, he
didn't stop her. Her heavy breasts fell free and swung for a
moment and he had to let out a ragged, deep sigh of contentment.

She balanced on first one leg, than the other, like some sexy
little bird, to remove her shoes and then shimmied out of her
hose. He liked the way her hair dipped and slid around her head,
a curtain of flame, when she bent over. She slid the panties
slowly down off of her hips and he let the sighs turn into groans.

She quirked a brow at him as she stood in front of him nude, her
hands balanced on her hips.

"Huh?" he realized he hadn't been keeping up. He quickly shed the
tee shirt and reached roughly for her. She wouldn't break; he
didn't have to worry about squeezing too hard, pushing too deep.
His breathing quickened...

She fell across his lap and started clutching at his hard body
with as much enthusiasm. She was probably just as happy to be
back in fighting form, so to speak.

She wiggled to straddle his hips and his penis was trapped under
her, tight up the crack of her ass. She bounced lightly on him
like a seesaw and he whimpered in her mouth as their tongues
wrestled.

She laughed out loud and reached down to adjust things. He
stopped her, "God, no. It's a good hurt."

She burnt him with her blue flame. "A good hurt? I gotta try
that--"

"Where?" he gurgled as his big hands couldn't stop squeezing her
waist.

She reached down and lifted one of her heavy breasts up to him.
"I pumped myself out to send milk with Tiff. Just don't suck very
hard."

He couldn't believe he found the courage to suggest, "What if I
want to try it again..."

She looked surprised and then her eyes warmed. "Sure," she
murmured.

He didn't have to hear that twice and lifted her up until he could
slip her large nipple into his waiting, wet mouth. She braced
herself on the wall behind the couch, rising up on her knees to
support herself.

At first, he suckled tentatively until he finally tasted her milk.
Rich and sweet. How perfectly Scully. He hadn't allowed himself
to truly taste it earlier but now he savored it, absorbing the
flavor, like letting the center of a creamy white truffle melt in
his mouth.

She must have been enjoying this as well. Her low peals, gasping
sounds from deep within her, drifted around his head like rose
petals. He had to share. Pulling her face down to his mouth, he
passed the taste to her and she moaned with greed. They giggled
around their tongues as her milk continued to pump out, sticking
their skin together.

The smell of her desire was rising like smoke and drugging him
further. As he released her mouth to begin to lick her chest
clean, he let his hand wander down between her legs. Two fingers
slipped easily into her warmth and he made slow, lazy grinding
motions on her clit with his palm as his fingers stroked the
swollen walls of her vagina.

He glanced up at her face and reveled in the beauty of it. She
was chewing on that bottom lip of hers so hard he was afraid it
would burst like a ripe berry. Her nostrils were flared from
trying to suck in enough air to live. Her sooty eyelashes
fluttered on her red cheeks like trapped sparrows. Her eyes
slowly opened, she must have been aware of his gaze. She returned
the intense inspection and then sank down.

He pulled his fingers out as she descended and used them to hold
her folds open as he aligned his eager, hard cock with his other
hand. They came together in a perfectly synchronized movement.

She settled there in his lap and gave him a soft little smile.
Okay. It was going to be like that. Loving. Slow...

She suddenly gripped his shoulders so hard he thought the bones
would break and began to buck on him like a wild pony. Okay,
maybe not.

He planted his feet to get leverage and met her frenzy, thrust to
thrust. Their gasps sounded as though they both were going to die
in the next few minutes. She ground down onto his pelvis with
moans of exquisite pain. He didn't know if he could give her
everything she needed, but he would try. He pushed and pushed,
deeper and deeper. Her moans turned to groans of approval and he
flushed deeper red, pleased with himself.

"Yeah, Mulder, oh yeah, right there..." she growled into his ear
before she bit down hard on the lobe. He was urged on further.
He grabbed her slippery ass and pulled her down even tighter and
ground harder and harder into her softness.

She arched her back and gripped his shoulders again to give him a
different angle and he gasped out. He couldn't get a breath in at
all anymore and he was afraid he was losing consciousness. He had
to stay with her. He pounded on, crying now from the fury of the
storm.

As suddenly as she began, she finished in a rush of tears and
moans, her head a whirling vortex of pink skin and red curls. He
could only watch her through his own tears, unable to give her
anything more as his thrusting hips raged on to completion and he
gushed like a burst pipe.

Scully thought she might have been clunked on the head with one of
Mulder's big flashlights. She had to decide if she'd been
unconscious or not. She managed to focus her eyes on the flat
male nipple under her eyeball. Feeling like she had a hangover,
she wanted to ask him to stop breathing. The movement was giving
her motion sickness. Instead she began to groom him like a cat,
her tongue licking the sweat from his body with business-like
efficiency.

"What cha doin'?" The chest rose with the rumbling speech.

"Go to sleep," she admonished him as she continued. She had to
wiggle off of his flaccid penis to reach his stomach and giggled
at the odd sucking noise that went with that action.

"Don't wanna--" he grumbled.

"What cha wanna do?" They sounded like a couple of stoned teen-
agers.

"Wanna stay here forever. Just like this," he said.

She didn't know how to answer that.

In a moment he said, "What time is Tiff bringing Kit back?"

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, but his eyes
were still closed. "She said take all the time we need. We can
pick him up anytime we want."

He opened his eyes and looked down at her with a little smile.
"How early do you think she gets up?"

She blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes. She kept
her words simple and to the point. "I love you, Mulder."

He let his lids close again and pulled her so close she couldn't
continue her grooming. "Good thing. Otherwise I have no idea how
you would put up with me."

2.
May 5th, 7:25 A.M.

Scully and Mulder shared one last, deep kiss before getting out of
the car in front of Tiff's condominium complex. She teased,
"That'll have to hold you a while. I don't know how many times we
can impose on Tiff."

He grinned. "Yeah. Skinner's still my boss. Don't want to get
on his bad side by putting a crimp in his sex life."

She shuddered. There were a couple of places she never wanted to
go and giving Skinner's sex life deep thought was one of them.

They rode up in the elevator holding hands. At Tiff's door, he
gave her one last peck before knocking.

There was no answer.

"Are you sure she's up this early?" she asked.

He knocked again.

Scully could feel a tickle of fear begin to creep up her spine.
She reached out to try the knob. It turned easily in her hand.

She and Mulder pulled their guns out as she pushed the door to
swing open. She could hear a pounding in her ears, like a
distant, approaching storm.

There were signs of a struggle in the front room but they moved
quickly through the dim apartment to check all the rooms. She
opened every door, even looking in the space that held the water
heater.

They met up in the living room. Mulder stood by the couch, his
gun loose at the end of his limp arm as his head swiveled to take
in the scene. An overturned lamp. Tiff's purse left on the
table. Kit's diaper bag was gone but his portable crib was still
set up by the couch.

Scully said the words. "Our baby is gone."

He said nothing.

Running to the door, she flung it open and hurried first one
direction, then another in the hall. Nothing but blank, beige
walls stared back at her. She ducked back into the apartment. He
was coming out the kitchen, seeming to drift like a cloud.

To catch his attention, she raised her voice even more. "Someone
took our baby!"

He began to shake his head as though he could make it all go away.
She was screaming now, her hand slamming against the wall for
emphasis. "Our baby is gone!"

Mulder still hadn't looked at her but he pulled his cell phone
from his pocket. He punched a rapid dial button. "AD Skinner.
It's important."

The room was silent as they waited, all but her rasping breaths,
the breathing of a runner struggling towards the finish line.

"Sir? It's Mulder." His voice began to fail him. "He's gone.
They're gone." He gulped a ragged breath and tried again. "We're
at Tiff's. She and Kit are missing. There're signs of a
struggle. Yes, Sir. We'll be here."

She didn't wait for him to speak to her. "Can we trust him? Can
we!?"

He shrugged half-heartedly as he pocketed his phone.

She had to move. She couldn't stand still in these small, dark
rooms. As she paced, she rapidly asked, "Can we trust Tiff? What
do we know about her?"

He finally looked at her with bleak eyes. "I don't know."

"Your mother! Do you think your mother had anything to do with
this?" She fired at him.

"I don't know," he whispered.

She slammed the wall again until she could hear the bones in her
hand groan but she felt no pain. "We can't trust anyone! Not
now. It's too important to fuck around! We have to do this
alone."

He nodded obediently. "Yes." His gaze pleaded with her. "We can
trust the Gunmen."

"All right. No one else. Not Skinner. Not now." She was pacing
again.

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. His
glazed eyes, limp body, hunched shoulders. She rushed to him and
grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare do this now, Mulder! You can't
shut down! We need to find our baby!"

He seemed to force himself to meet her gaze. He parroted, "Yes.
We have to find Kit."

In horrific frustration she raised her hand to slap him, when
Skinner burst through the door.

"What's going on?" he bellowed.

Scully advanced on him. "Our baby's gone. Kit's gone."

Skinner nodded quickly. "And Tiff?"

Mulder came up behind them as officers began to fill the room.
"She's gone too. Do you know anything, Sir?"

Skinner shook his head. "I came by last night. She had Kit." He
shifted his eyes between them and said with embarrassment, "She
told me to go home. Said she had her hands full."

She ignored his discomfort. "Did she seem uneasy? How fast did
she try to get rid of you?"

He paused before answering, seeming to be thinking over his
response. Finally he said, "She was as she always is. Rude.
Curt. Nothing out of the ordinary." Sharply he asked, "What are
you suggesting?"

Coldly, she replied, "Nothing. Sir. Mulder, we have to go." She
grabbed his arm. "Please contact us if you find any evidence in
here."

As they entered the elevator, Mulder asked, "Shouldn't we have
waited to see if they found anything?"

She punched the ground level button. "They haven't left any
signs. As usual. No, we have to come at this from another
direction."

His brow creased as though he had to concentrate to think. "The
Gunmen?"

"That smoking bastard made Kit for some purpose. He wanted him
and he took him. I don't even want to guess what he'll do with
him next. But we have to go about it the old fashioned way." The
elevator doors open and Scully hurried towards their car. "Have
the guys set up searches for all babies turned in to social
services, hospitals, abandoned behind supermarkets. Maybe we'll
get lucky. I think we can reasonably trust the police APBs but I
don't want any finds routed through the Bureau. I want to hear
about it from the Gunmen."

Mulder's voice started sounding strong as he answered, "Yes. That
sounds good."

Chapter 3: Waiting

1.
The Factory
May 5th, 7:45 P.M.

Tiff woke suddenly, violently. Her head rang, and bile rose in
her throat. She forced it back down and glanced around her
surroundings. A cell. A bed bolted to the floor. A single door;
smooth and steel, no handle. No window.

No sounds other than the low purr of an air-conditioning unit.
The temperature was cool but not uncomfortable.

She forced herself upright on the bed. Something told her she had
to be ready.

Within five minutes, the door swung open and her muscles tensed in
anticipation. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see the
clone, Kenneth.

He came bearing food on a tray. "How do you feel?" he asked as he
placed the tray on her bed. She stared out the open doorway,
weighing her chances.

"No, Agent Davis. You'll be shot before you reach the end of the
hallway."

She shrugged. "I'm sure." Her stomach twisted as she looked at
the food.

He seemed to note her expression. "Are you certain you feel fine?
I believe they had to restrain you forcibly."

"Damn right! What have you fuckers done with Kit?" she spit at
him.

As always, there was no reaction to her outburst.

"Kit is well." For the first time, she felt as though she sensed
an emotion from the clone. It was concern.

Frustration overwhelmed her. She was certain the room was bugged.

Slowly she said, "Good. And he'll stay that way?"

"Of course." Kenneth was smooth again.

She had to trust him. He'd helped her twice before and she had to
believe he would do it again. And she wanted to know what was in
store for her.

"Kenneth, what are they going to do with me?"

He looked at her, uncomprehending.

She grasped his cool arm. "I know what they did to Scully. Are
they going to do that to me?"

He shook his head. "They only use Aryans."

She felt a snake of fear uncoil in her stomach. "I kind of
figured that. So why am I still alive?"

He met her eyes and the concern was there again. "They can always
use material." He rose quickly from the bed. "I must go. Ring
the bell if you feel unwell." He motioned to a button on the
wall.

"Thank you, Kenneth. For everything," she called after his
retreating back. Her only answer was the click of the closing
door.

2.
Krycek pushed himself back from the table, turning down the volume
on the listening device. He waited for the old man to speak.

As always, the man lit a cigarette before he began.

As he expelled the first lungful of smoke, he said, "We can't
afford any more errors at this time. Do you understand me?"

"Not entirely, sir," Krycek replied.

All he got in return was a narrowing of sharp eyes.

He continued. "I know I'm committed to acquiring the desired
genetic material. All along, that's been my goal. Yet we seemed
to be foiled time and time again--until now." He made sure he had
the old man's attention and said, "We've got the merchandise. We
can't fuck up now."

The smoothness of the old man's tone chilled him. "Of course not.
But we must realize that not everyone among us shares our
commitment. Diligence will be required. We're close. Very
close." He rose from the table and leaned towards Krycek. "Be
sure nothing happens. Be very sure."

Deep in thought, Krycek hardly noticed him leave the room. The
old bastard had it right. Not everyone was committed as he was.
And his list of untrustworthy persons started at that fool. He
had regretted joining this quest more than once, but now that he
was close to seeing some money on this job, nothing would stop
him. Not even the old man himself.

3.
Greenwich, Connecticut
May 11th, 11:20 A.M.

Mulder waited for his mother to bring in the tea. He was used to
her diversionary tactics. He was patient. He automatically rose
from his chair when she returned, tea set carefully balanced in
her hands.

"Let me take that," he offered.

She gave him a small, tight smile as he took the tray and placed
it on the coffee table.

"Thank you, Fox." She drifted to her favorite chair, positioned
by the window so he couldn't make out her features as the sunlight
streamed through in the late afternoon. "I'm very glad you came
here today."

He came to stand beside her and looked down to her face. "Perhaps
you won't be when I've finished what I've come to say."

Her shoulders instantly tensed and her hands grasped together but
she didn't speak.

He forged on. "Our son has been taken, Mother."

Her eyes immediately shot up to meet his. "Fox!"

He took a deep breath and continued. "Do you know anything,
Mother?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you heard from your friend?" Her eyes dropped again and he
resisted an urge to grab her face and force her to look at him.
"Did he say anything when he told you about Kit?"

She shook her head. "Kit?"

Her diversions were no longer allowed. "That's what we call him.
He's been forcibly taken, Mother. A FBI agent is gone too. This
isn't a time to play stupid."

Her gaze was as flat as the surface of a frozen lake. "I'm not
stupid."

"Oh, no, Mother. I was mistaken." He was furious. "You've never
been stupid. You've always known exactly how to take care of
yourself. It's the rest of us who were stupid enough to wonder
what was going on."

"So what's going on?" She was on one of her rare offensives.

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me."

She said nothing.

Desperate, weak, he sank down beside her, letting his head fall to
rest on her knee. "My wife. . .my Scully. She needs her baby
back. You have to know how that feels. Anything, Mom. Anything
at all. A name. A phone number. An address."

Her cool hand stroked his head as though she was soothing a pet.
"I'm sorry, Fox."

He stared at the ceramic figurine frozen in her dance across on
the mantel. He'd seen the Baroque figure all his life, but until
this moment, he hadn't noticed the mocking smirk on her face as
she glanced back at her partner. "I know you are, Mother. But
this time, it's not enough."

He hauled himself to his feet and walked out of the room without a
backward glance. She didn't call after him.

4.
Pinecrest, Virginia; 31 Bridle Path Way
May 11th, 5:48 P.M.

Scully slowly unbuttoned her blouse. The pain had become
unbearable and she'd begun to leak milk from her nipples. But she
hated to do this. Hated the way it made her feel. Hated how she
cried every time.

She fit the pump to her aching breast. The pressure lessened, but
the real pain began, washing over her in waves. The cold,
unforgiving surface against her cracked and chapped aureole. His
tiny mouth--gone. The warmth of his body, nestled close--gone.
His low sighs and gurgles--like his father, he wasn't a quiet
eater--gone.

Her sobs were low, but ragged, tearing at the already tender
tissue in her throat. Their bedroom was dim. Another day had
passed with Kit gone.

"Scully?" Mulder had entered the room.

Her voice was tired. "What?"

He said nothing, just sank into the chair.

Her tone was sharper. "What?"

"Uh. . ."

She knew he was going to say something that would make her angry.

"What?" The word dripped from her mouth like a drop of blood.

"Scully. . .maybe you shouldn't do that," he mumbled. Rushing on
as she went to protest, he added, "If it upsets you so much. I
mean, I'm sure Kit will be on the bottle when we get him back, so-
-"

"So what!?" she hissed. "I don't care if it *upsets* me!" Her
voice rose and he buried his gaze in his lap with his twisting
hands. "I should be upset! I'm fucking overwhelmed! My baby is
gone!!"

He shook his head, mute.

She heard herself screaming, but the voice was distant to her
ringing ears, like listening to her former neighbors down the hall
squabbling. "Gone!! And I'm not going to be like your parents.
I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen and just wander off
through my life in a haze!" He seemed unmoved under her assault.
She told him, "This isn't Samantha. I'm going to get my child
back."

He whispered so low she could barely hear him, "But are you going
to blame me too?"

"What?" she asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"If I hadn't wanted. . .to be alone with you. If you hadn't had
to take him to Tiff's--" he said.

"Jesus! Mulder!" She towered over his slumped figure and pelted
him like a wild storm with her words. "This isn't about you! I
get so sick of your self-absorption sometimes! Our baby has been
taken! That's what's important. Not you!"

"Scully--" He was reaching out for her and the last thing she
wanted was his damp, cold touch right now.

"I'm going to actually do something." She quickly buttoned her
blouse. "I'm not going to spend another minute, crying, sitting
in these dark rooms."

She rushed from the room before he could say another word.

4.
Lone Gunman's Residence

Scully brushed past Frohike and entered the warm, stuffy space
crammed with machinery. Byers and Anita were cuddling on the
couch and she had a sudden hatred of people close enough to the
ones they loved to touch them.

Anita asked, "Are you all right, Dana?" and then immediately
looked ashamed.

Byers stroked her friend's arm understandingly and Scully wanted
to scream as Anita rushed on to clarify her words. "Of course
not. That was a stupid question. What can we help you with?"

Scully shook off the comfort in her friend's words. "I want to
work. What are you working on?"

Langly popped up from under a table, brushing dust from his hands.
"Boring stuff mostly--"

"Boring is fine," Scully said curtly, moving to join him at the
bank of computer terminals.

He nodded and held out a chair for her. As she settled in,
Frohike joined them. He said, "We've been double-checking all
current records of any activity with babies. Social services--
police station reports."

Shaking his head, he continued, "Not much to be found. We've got
some of our guys out covering the baby supply stores. Seeing if
any men in black have been making large purchases."

Scully's lips twisted at the bizarre mental image. He was saying,
"But it's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

With her strongest voice, she said, "Then I'm the perfect person
to help. I know that needle. I'll know him when I see him."

She could tell Langly and Frohike were exchanging worried glances
over her head, but she ignored them and logged onto hospital
records.

Langly said, "We've already checked those over."

"All right. But I want to check them again," she said with
determination.

Now the men exchanged shrugs but left her to work.

As the hours passed, Byers snoozed on the couch, Anita was called
away for a birth, and the other two men busied themselves cooking
a late supper.

Scully's eyes ached. Too many salty tears had burned her pupils
and she was exhausted. The screen danced and wavered before her.

A name formed. Isaac. "Look!" she called out.

The cooks came running from the kitchen and Byers struggled out of
the couch, hobbling to her side.

Langly reached her first and helped her bring up the entire
record. Gently he said, "No, Scully. The baby is the wrong age.
He's seven months, not three."

She quickly scanned the material. "But look at his weight.
Eighteen pounds. Only a pound heavier than Kit. The hair and
eyes are right. Blood type too."

Frohike read aloud, "Jared Isaac Leonard." His gloved hand
settled heavily on her shoulder. "Scully. Honey. It's just a
coincidence. This child has a heart defect. He really is sick.
He's in for a transplant."

She shook his hand off and rose quickly from her chair. "I'm
going to go check it out. To be sure."

Byers sputtered, "We'll call Mulder."

She was at the door already. "Don't bother. I'm sure you're
right, Frohike, and it's nothing." As she slipped into her coat,
she repeated, "I just want to be sure."

5.
Children's National Medical Center; Pediatric ICU
8:50 P.M.

Scully forced herself to slowly approach the nurses' station with
the amble of an investigating officer.

Wearily, she dug her badge from the bottom of her trench coat and
showed it to the shift manager.

"Special Agent Dana Scully. I'm looking into a missing child
case."

The nurse immediately went on alert. "Yes?"

"Yes. I'm interested in seeing Jared Isaac Leonard."

The nurse's heavy brow furrowed. "See him?"

"Yes, ma'am." Scully swallowed her impatience. "Now." She
checked the woman's name badge. "Ms. Wiggins."

The nurse blinked and began to come out from behind the desk.
"But I don't understand," she said as she headed down the hall.
"Jerry is a very sick child. I've seen his parents every day.
There's no way he could have been abducted."

"I understand." Scully forced herself to keep her manner
nonchalant. "But we must follow up every lead."

Flipping aside the curtain in the room, Scully moved quickly to
the edge of the crib and stared at the baby through the thick
plastic. The baby lay under an oxygen tent, his breathing labored
between blue lips.

It wasn't Kit.

"Well?" Nurse Wiggins was at her elbow, insistent.

"His chart, please," Scully asked, reaching out blindly, still
staring down at the baby. Dark hair, beginning to curl around his
pale ears. Huge eyes, shifting between gray, blue, and green.

"I'm not sure--" The nurse began.

Scully turned quickly and bore down on her with her gaze. "I'm a
doctor. The chart. Please."

As the woman moved to pull the chart from the tray outside the
door, Scully lifted the plastic drape. Her fingers touched the
wide, full mouth under the cannula inserted in the baby's
nostrils.

"I still don't understand." The nurse was back. Scully ignored
her as she flipped back the cover to read the information.

Concern raised during a twenty-week sonogram. Fetal
echocardiography revealed Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome.
Frantically, Scully added the numbers up. Isaac's sonogram was on
May 25th. She and Mulder were kidnapped and drugged within a
week.

Blood began to pound in her ears, like thundering waves against
the hull of a ship.

"I'm Jared Leonard's doctor." Scully had to turn to acknowledge a
man hurrying through the door. The nurse must have contacted him
as she fetched the chart.

She forced her bland, professional expression back on her face.
"Special Agent Scully. FBI."

He shook her hand. "Dr. Collins. What's this about?"

She moved ahead swiftly. "This child. Has he been in your care
his entire life?"

The doctor looked surprised, then said, "I was brought in after
Mrs. Leonard's initial sonogram and the fetus' diagnosis."

She pushed him. "What's his prognosis?"

Doctor Collins pursed his thin lips, seeming to be holding back.

She pushed harder. "Doctor Collins--"

"Poor. Extremely poor. He's currently on a list for a
transplant."

Carefully Scully lay the chart on a nearby table. A baby's heart.
She'd held them in her hands before. As light and small as a
chicken's liver. Flashing memory: cutting open a deformed baby's
chest to see the malformed, withered organ. For this child, for
his family, a healthy heart was worth its weight in gold. Her
child's body was a piece of trash to be thrown away after it was
mined.

She managed to form the words. "Is Jared the Leonards' only
child?"

The doctor looked confused, then shrugged. "They have three
daughters." He gave a small, pained smile to Scully. "Mr.
Leonard wants his son to live. Understandably."

She dipped her head to encourage him. "But you've received a
call. A heart is available. A match."

The doctor's pale, bushy brows shot upward. "How--" He nodded
slowly and she saw the familiar crafty expression of a
collaborator slide across his face.

Deliberately, she pulled open her coat, propping her hand on her
hip so her weapon was revealed.

He gulped and continued. "We've just been contacted. A heart is
expected to become available very soon. A brain-injured child is
about to be taken off life support. We're to be preparing Jerry
for surgery."

Her body began to feel weightless. She felt as though she was
floating above the room.

The doctor's attention was diverted. "Mrs. Leonard." He began to
babble. "Thank goodness! You're here! We need to clear
something up."

Scully whirled and her gaze settled on the familiar-faced woman
hovering in the doorway. Her weak voice drifted across the room
to them. "What's going on? Has something happened to Isaac?"

She didn't know how she got across the room. Scully only knew she
was standing in front of the woman, watching fear fill her eyes.

She couldn't feel the woman's neck under her hand as she forced
her body to the wall. Each breath came out as a hiss. "Where's
my baby!?"

The woman's large green eyes blinked, once. She could only gurgle
under Scully's grip.

The doctor and nurse were rushing towards her. Scully whipped out
her pistol to hold them off. "Get back."

She returned her attention to the shuddering woman. Again.
"Where the fuck is my baby?!"

She realized the woman couldn't answer. Her grip was too tight.
She let up the pressure very slightly. And again. She moved her
face in so close her spit dotted the woman's face. "WHERE-IS-MY-
BABY?"

She whispered hoarsely, "Who are you?"

Scully could manage a dry chuckle. "Who am I?" She turned the
gun to the woman's head and watched her body tremble harder. "I'm
your fucking sister-in-law, Samantha. Now--where's your father
hiding my baby?"

6.
Washington DC Police Station
May 12th, 12:15 A.M.

Scully concentrated, tracing a deep crack in the wooden table with
her fingernail. The police officer sitting in the corner of the
interrogation room seemed fascinated by her task, his watery blue
eyes following the track of her finger as she dragged it back and
forth through the groove.

Her head snapped up. Mulder was there. His face was framed in
the small window of the door. His eyes, dark and blank, stared at
her. She dropped her gaze first, returning to her finger's
journey, her view blinded by gathering tears. That was that.

No one would talk to him. Mulder had been shunted from officer to
officer, up and down the food chain of command. He concentrated
very hard on breathing slowly and deeply. Now was not the time to
go apeshit. Something was horribly wrong. He'd known that from
the moment the Gunmen had called, telling him Scully had rushed
off to Children's Hospital. Arriving there, he could only hurry
off to follow the patrol car carrying her to the station.

His sharp gaze picked out the badge of the hospital security
guard, huddled on a bench, waiting to give his statement. The
young, overweight man had large sweat stains growing from his
armpits, and had yanked his tie loose to reveal a fleshy, white,
damp neck. He sipped nervously on a soda as his pig-small eyes
darted around the room.

Mulder made eye contact and gave him a tentative smile. It was
weakly returned. Mulder slid down onto the bench beside him.

"What happened?"

The security officer seemed relieved that someone was finally
talking to him, but was still cautious. "Who're you?"

Mulder quickly flashed his badge. "FBI. What happened?"

"This woman came in and went crazy!" the man burst out.

Mulder lay a calming hand on his arm. "What's your name?"

"Joe."

"Joe, what happened?"

Joe took another sip of soda and continued, quietly. "I get this
call. A woman's up in Ped ICU, with a gun. I go up. Sure
nuff--"

"Dana Scully? The red-haired woman?" Mulder asked, his burgeoning
fears finding soil to grow in.

Joe nodded rapidly. "Yep. That's what her ID said. She just
kept asking this curly-haired chick, 'Where's my baby? Where's my
baby?' But the chick wouldn't say nothing."

"Is that woman here? The woman she was holding the gun on?"
Mulder continued to probe.

Joe jerked his head towards the far corner. "Yep."

When Mulder scanned the room, he discovered a woman he hadn't
noticed previously. Samantha. Of course. After all these years
of false trails, he wasn't even surprised.

She was watching him and he wondered if she had been doing that
the whole time. A tall, lean blonde man sat beside her, her hand
firmly grasped between his hands. His eyes were on Mulder too, a
cold, pale stare of a wolf.

Mulder forced his attention back to Joe. "What did that woman
say?"

"Nothing. She wouldn't say nothing!" his voice was rising again.
"Just stared at her like she had no sense. I mean, that woman had
a gun on her. She shoulda said something!"

Mulder agreed. "Yes. Then what happened?"

"It's like the red-haired woman just gave up. She put down her
gun and said, 'Call Mulder.'" Joe looked helplessly around the
room. "But I don't think nobody's called this Mulder person and
now we've all been dragged down here."

Mulder soothed him. "I'm sure it'll all be straightened out soon.
Thank you," he said as he rose from the hard bench.

Samantha kept her gaze level as he approached her, but the man
with her got up from his chair to block Mulder's view. "Can I
help you with something?" he asked aggressively.

Mulder tried to read this man, but his face was empty as a blank
sheet of paper. He resisted the urge to hit that face hard enough
to crumple it. Scully was expecting him to get answers. He had
to try.

"I guess I should introduce myself. Or would you like to do the
honors, Samantha?" he addressed the small form behind the body in
front of him.

He glanced down at the gold band on the man's finger when he got
no response. "I'm Fox Mulder. I believe I'm your brother-in-
law."

This seemed to satisfy the man. "Ah! That explains a thing or
two! You're married to that nut!?"

Mulder lowered his voice to the hiss of a cracking iceberg.
"Excuse me?"

That got Samantha off her damned chair. "Fox--"

"Yes, Samantha?" Mulder controlled his aggression as best he
could. He had sworn he would avoid hearing his first name spoken
until she was back, but now her weak intonation mocked his dream.
"At the hospital, they told me my wife assaulted the mother of a
baby. That she had been looking for a baby. That your baby needs
a heart transplant. I'll put that together with the fact that our
baby is missing--and Samantha?" He stared into the reflection of
his own eyes. "I don't like what that adds up to."

The man pushed his way in between them. "I don't know what
fucking delusions you have--"

"What's your name?"

Blinking, the man responded, "Jeffrey Leonard."

Mulder found himself becoming calmer as this person became more
agitated. "What do you do, Jeffrey?"

Leonard's brow furrowed in confusion, but he answered never the
less. "I'm a biotech engineer."

"For?"

"Herbst Cooperation." Too bad Leonard blinked, or Mulder might
have let him off.

He took one of his wild stabs. "Which is a subsidiary of Roush
Technologies?"

Leonard blinked more rapidly. Mulder was reminded of trying to
communicate with a speech-impaired person. He went back to
questioning his sister.

"Did your *father* tell you he would help you find a heart for
your son?"

She tilted her fine chin up and looked him in the eye. "No."

That's what broke his heart. He had to back up and lean against a
desk. Her face had the exact expression she'd always had as a
girl, when she'd lie to him easily and with no conscience,
comfortable in the assurance that she deserved the biggest piece
of cake, the last Pixie Stix, the front seat beside Mom on a car
ride.

Leonard was speaking to him, suddenly smooth and professional.
"What support do you have for the wild idea that your son was
taken to give our son a heart? How would we even know if he was a
match?"

This was something to concentrate on while he collected his
thoughts. Mulder said, "My wife was infertile. A year ago, we
were abducted and unconscious for a period of time. She was
pregnant within the month. We subsequently discovered her
reproductive function seems to have been *cured.*" He addressed
Leonard. "Any ideas on that one?"

Huffing, the man replied, "I can tell you that, depending on your
wife's infertility, it's nearly impossible. You're as crazy as
your wife." He crossed his arms with his last statement, as
though that settled everything.

Mulder kept speaking to his sister. "Samantha, did your father
tell you he could get you a heart?"

She hedged. "That wouldn't mean it was from your son. Like Jeff
said, how could we even know it was a match?"

Mulder thought for a moment, rolling around the events of the past
year. "A genetic test was done. We were concerned about
possible...defects after his unusual conception. The same forces
who were responsible had access to those tests." He glanced back
and forth between the couple. "My wife wouldn't just attack
someone. She has to have seen something in your son's records
that makes her believe this is true."

Leonard's thin lips twitched, then a wide, false smile opened on
his face. "Listen. Fox. I'm sure your wife is distraught." He
nodded at Samantha. "I've seen how all of this has hurt Sam so I
have some idea of her torment." Mulder had to grip the underside
of the desk to keep from rapping his hands around this Neo-Nazi's
neck. "We're family. We can settle this all right now, have a
chat with the arresting officer. You can take the little lady
home and I'm sure the police will find your kid."

Mulder felt a horrifying, irrational cackle rising from his
diaphragm. He could see it now, as he was tossed in the cell
beside Scully, for exactly the same crime. He wanted desperately
to give this man a necklace of bruises to match the purple stains
he'd just noticed on Samantha's neck.

He was saved by the approach of a burly, short detective.
Motioning to Mulder, he asked, "This your lawyer?"

Smoothly, Leonard interjected, "No. This is Dana Scully's
husband."

Mulder was still watching Samantha's face. This is when she would
play the drama queen, roll her eyes and say, 'Okay, Fox. You can
have your way, this one time.'

Maybe it was the child's face on a woman's body that made him
believe she was going to do it. But her eyes were shallow and
weak. With a start, he realized his sister was really dead. This
body stood in front of him, but the vital, strong-willed, brave
little girl must have died a long time ago.

"Sir?" The cop had been talking to him.

"Huh?" The lethargy of the past five days descended on him again,
making him sink down onto the desk for support.

"Your wife is going to be taken to court to be arraigned. Do you
have an attorney?"

Mulder should his head. "I need to call one. She didn't ask for
one?"

Wryly, the policeman replied, "No. But she didn't need one. She
hasn't said a damn thing."

Probably expecting her husband to ride in on his white horse and
rescue her. Well, it hadn't happened.

Chapter 4: Family Ties

1.

Tiff woke suddenly, blinking to see in the low light. She
whispered, "Who's there?"

The answer was a cool hand on her forearm. She understood.
Swinging her feet onto the floor, she groped for her shoes. It
was time to go.

Kenneth led her into the dim hallway and she could feel her heart
begin to beat faster despite her silent admonishments to it to
slow down. She needed to be calm and ready. She sensed she would
only have this one chance for freedom.

The clone slipped around behind her, and she could tell he looked
behind them often. He only spoke once, directing her to turn.
"Here."

At a secured door, she waited as he punched in a code to the wall
pad. She kept her back to the wall as she strained her ears and
eyes for any activity. He held the door open when the lock was
released, but didn't join her as she slipped through the opening.

"Kenneth?"

His face was still as ever. "I need to get Kit."

She was torn. "Should I wait?"

"No. In case I fail, someone has to go for help." For the first
time, he smiled at her and she marveled at his perfect, white
teeth. "Divide and conquer."

Nodding, she said, "Yes. Which way?"

He pointed to a gate in the chain link fence. "Through there,
right and up the road, Highway 32. About a mile and a half,
there's a pay phone. I couldn't use the phones here--"

Briskly, she responded, "I understand." She still found herself
lingering. "Good luck, Kenneth. And thank you."

He tipped his head in acknowledgment like a valet, and pulled the
door shut.

The moon was high, white and three quarters full, lighting her
way, and the crisp air spurred on her reluctant, sluggish muscles.
She had to get to the phone.

2.
"Ma'am?"

Scully lifted her head from the table and forced herself to focus
on the older uniformed officer. Apologetically, he held out a set
of handcuffs. Nodding, she rose from the chair.

He led her from the interrogation room, holding the door for her
like the courteous gentleman she was sure he was. Quickly, she
looked up and down the narrow hall. A small group clustered at
one end. Samantha and a tall man Scully immediately distrusted.
By their side in the tight space--Mulder. His eyes shifted away
when she tried to read them and then he turned his back as he
fumbled for his cell phone in his pocket.

She stumbled and the beefy hand of the policeman was right there
to steady her. Her trust had never been handed out easily and
now, it shattered and she felt as though her spine had been cut,
dropping her like a shot.

In a trance, she allowed herself to be escorted down the narrow
passage and into an elevator. The cop decided to make
conversation. "We're rushing you through processing to
arraignment at night court." He gave her a small smile. "You
being on the job and all."

Her manners were good too. "Thank you." He nodded.

When the doors opened, they were in the basement. Pleased, she
discovered she could still raise an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "That damn press."

"Oh." The single word could barely croak out of her throat.

As he hustled her towards a dark doorway, she realized she should
be afraid. She clung to that much awareness. She just couldn't
summon much interest in survival.

A single unmarked cop car sat in the alley, the engine idling.
The skin on her neck prickled as she peered into the dark
interior.

"Ted?" Her escort called to the still figure behind the wheel.

"Yep," came out of the shadows.

"Okay. Well, good luck, Ma'am." He even tipped his cap and she
had no recourse but to stick out her hands for an awkward
handshake.

Ted had come around and opened the door for her. After she
settled in, he reached across her chest to fasten the seatbelt.
He didn't make eye contact. Apparently he didn't share his
comrade's loyalty to a fellow law enforcement officer.

As the car slowly pulled out of the alley and past the crowds of
reporters, she was grateful for the smoked glass of the windows.

The early morning streets were nearly bare of cars but Scully
stared out the squad car's window nonetheless. Each turn of the
vehicle's wheels took her further from Kit. If he was still
alive. A mother would know if her child had died, wouldn't she?
If he were here, Mulder would be able to pull out a number of
cases of mothers sensing their child's death. She decided not to
think about him and went back to counting the number of turns of
the tires.

She had worked herself into a trance and didn't really notice the
large, shiny black van beside the car until it began to push them
out of their lane. Ted sped up, but the van matched their speed.

Scully stared at the black smoked glass windows in the van, and
felt a surge of hope. These people had Kit. If they took her,
they would take her to her baby.

The van bumped them hard. Ted swore as he corrected the steering
and sped up again. Scully gripped the armrest. Hope--she could
smell her baby's clean skin, feel his light tracing touch as he
grasped at her teasing lips when she kissed him--she felt the now
familiar let-down of milk wet her blouse.

The van matched Ted's increase and bumped them again, forcing him
to turn down an alley. It raced after them, blocking their
escape.

As Ted slammed on the brakes, wrestled free from his seatbelt and
groped for his gun, he yelled at her, "Stay put!"

Ignoring him, Scully was already working her seat buckle loose.

A voice called out in the dark alley. "Drop the gun, Officer."

Ted hesitated. The voice told him calmly, "Do you want to live?"

"Frohike?" she whispered, disbelieving.

She pressed herself between the brick wall and the car side to
come around the back.

Langly squeaked at her ear, "Are you all right? Fro--he wanted to
drive."

"I'm fine, thank you," she said automatically as she hurried
towards the van.

Ted called after her, "Ma'am?"

"Thank you, Ted." She suddenly felt oddly giddy and frivolous.
"It's been real."

The side door slid open on the van and hands reached out of the
inky depths to pull her in.

Mulder smelled like he needed a shower and his breath was sour in
her ear, but she didn't really mind. She doubted she was a
contestant for a beauty contest right now.

The van began to roar back down the alley and they rolled around
the open area of the back, wrapped in each other's arms.

He laughed first. She couldn't stop herself from joining him.

She stopped suddenly and asked, "Where are we going?"

Mulder laughed harder. "I dunno. Where are we going, Frohike?"

"Don't worry," wafted back from the glowing cab.

She could feel his shoulders raise to shrug. Just then, his cell
phone rang in his coat pocket. His eyes glistened like a cat's,
the look of a curious hunter. He fumbled, then found the phone.

"Mulder." She leaned close so she could hear and he tipped the
phone for her head to fit in.

They both reacted to the tired voice on the other end. "Tiff!"

"Yeah, it's me." She cut to the important part. "I don't have
Kit."

"Where is he?" They were still in chorus.

"I'm out on Highway 32, in an industrial area, I think close to
Annapolis, the area code on this phone is 443."

"Have you seen him?" Scully asked.

"Kenneth said he was still alive. I have to believe him," was the
response. They could hear the stress in her voice.

"What are we looking for?" Mulder had rerouted Frohike's course
and the van was increasing in speed as it roared up a freeway on-
ramp.

"A large, gray factory-warehouse type of building. It has
Breckenridge Chemicals on the side. I'm at a pay phone at a
closed Shell gas station about two miles north of it."

"Guarded?" Scully could feel Mulder grope for his gun at his
waist.

"I didn't get a sense of a lot of men, but I was kept in a cell.
It had the feeling of some sort of research facility. But I have
to assume there are standard security measures."

Mulder was brisk and smooth. "All right, we're on the way there.
You stay put."

Tiff asked, "Should I call the police?"

"No, we'll take care of everything and come to pick you up later."
Scully let Mulder do the lying.

As soon as he disconnected the call, she queried, "Is it a trap?
Can we trust her?"

Mulder shook his head in frustration as his hands, fumbling, found
a pair of wire snips in a toolbox. "I don't know."

Holding out her shackled hands for him, she completed his thought.
"But we have to chance it."

3.
The Factory

Krycek found Kenneth carefully searching the cell that had held
Tiffany Davis.

His sharp eyes flicked around the room. "So she escaped, eh?"

The young man straightened from peeking under the bed. "Yes,
sir."

Krycek could feel fury start to boil through his body, pounding
his blood to all extremities. "What did the old man say?"

"We are to abandon the Factory, sir."

"He had no ideas how she did it?" he asked with little interest.

"Not that he shared with me." The clone was standing with his
hands clasped lightly in front of him like a schoolboy waiting to
receive his punishment. Only a shine in his pale eyes suggested
he might be sensing danger.

Krycek let his gaze roam the room again. "There's plenty of guys
to clear the place out. We've got some time." He forced a casual
air to his tone.

"Sir?"

The clone was focusing on a spot to the side of his ear and hot
blood flooded his groin, filling his cock like a kinked fire hose.

"Get over here and down on your knees." He was amazed that he
continued to sound unaffected.

Of course the creature obeyed. But he didn't move after assuming
his requested position, simply kept his gaze on the ground.

Krycek fumbled for his fly with his one hand, all the while
seething down at the still, blonde head.

He pulled his already half-erect cock out of his boxers and up
against his trembling abdomen. "Go on!" he ordered.

Obediently, Kenneth gently eased Krycek's scrotum from its dark
cave in his leather pants and shoved-down boxers.

Gentle. Krycek hated gentle. He began to stroke his livid cock
roughly, pressing it against his belly and rubbing it against his
body hair.

"Do it!" he hissed.

Kenneth leaned down, craning his neck to take his left ball in his
mouth, and Krycek let himself rest back against the wall, his
furious breath coming in hard, sharp pants.

He began to work the head of his penis, rubbing the foreskin
against the swollen bulb until his vision swam.

"More!"

Kenneth widened his mouth and fit both balls in, increasing his
suction, the back of his mouth humming automatically on the crepey
skin.