Halfway There
by Leigh Alexander
leigh_xf@geocities.com

First posted: November 11, 1996

RATING: PG
CATEGORY: SA
SPOILERS: References to the third season eps "The Blessing
Way", "Paper Clip" and "Nisei/731". There are also references
to a number of season one and two events, but these are basic
facts that most readers would know.
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully friendship
SUMMARY: Scully meets a mysterious stranger in a halfway
house who could hold the answers to what she and Mulder have
been seeking for a long time.

DISCLAIMERS:
1) Dana and Fox belong to Chris and Ten Thirteen Productions
and the other Fox. Absolutely *no* copyright infringement is
intended - I'm not doing this for money, I'm doing it for
love. I *love* these characters, I wouldn't want to hurt
them! :)
2) OK to archive, but if it's going anywhere other than
Gossamer, please drop me a line just so I can keep track.
3) Feel free to distribute and discuss this, as long as my
name and addy remain attached.

INTRO:

Well, I can't really say any more without giving away the
plot, but I hope you'll read on to find out why... Just a
small warning - there's no MSR in here. Just UST and good
friendship.

I have to thank Kelsey for the wonderful editing job she's
done, even when RL just seemed to be taking over. :) Also I
want to thank the people on the M&S and XPCL mailing lists
for their feedback, which helped the story a *lot*.

Now, I have to ask for your indulgence on one aspect of this
story. I'm not a scientist, and my knowledge of scientific
and medical matters is *extremely* small. I'd really
appreciate it if you would all be able to believe that DNA
data can be displayed on a graph, similar to what we saw in
"Piper Maru/Apocrypha". It would really help my story if you
could. <g>

-----------------------------------------------------------
Halfway There
-----------------------------------------------------------

Scully sighed as she pulled yet another tray of lasagna out
of the oven. It was her third batch of the evening, and she
was beginning to grow utterly sick of the smell of bechemel
sauce. She placed the tray on the nearby bench, and it was
quickly whisked away by another pair of oven-mitt clad hands.
The woman tossed a brief thank you over her shoulder as she
carried the dish out of the kitchen.

Scully had already forgotten this woman's name, but she
smiled politely anyway and turned back to her work bench to
start making the salad.

A hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder, and she looked
into her mother's smiling eyes.

"How are you going, Dana? Not too much work, I hope?"

"No, no - I'm enjoying it." Margaret's eyebrow lifted in a
characteristic Scully expression, and Dana felt obliged to
stress, "Really, Mom - I am!"

Margaret smiled and gently rubbed her daughter's back, "Well,
we really appreciate you coming to help us on such short
notice. You've been a big help, honey."

Scully looked at her mother warmly and nodded. Earlier that
evening, when she had just arrived home, ready to spend a
rare relaxing night in front of the TV, she had received a
distress call from her mother asking for her help. Margaret
Scully was one of the volunteer staff at a nearby halfway
house and for weeks she and the other volunteers had been
planning a special "mid-year" dinner which they hoped would
lift the morale of the residents and promote a general
feeling of goodwill. Unfortunately one of the other staff
members had been taken down with the flu, and Margaret had
had to put in a mayday call to her daughter.

Scully really didn't mind spending her evening this way.
Sure, the physical aspect of it was starting to get a bit
tiring, but it allowed her to spend some time with her Mom,
who she didn't see often enough. And it felt good to be
putting something back into the community that didn't involve
giant flukemen or liver-eating mutants.

She finished up on the salad, and headed out into the main
dining area, where a buffet table had been set up. A number
of residents were milling around the table, and still more
had moved over to the many chairs and smaller tables that
were scattered around the room.

As she placed the salad bowl on the table, Scully's eye was
caught by a young woman in the corner of the room. She had
moved one of the chairs from the centre of the room,
sequestering herself away from the rest of the group. She
appeared to be concentrating solely on the task of eating and
seemed to be completely oblivious to her surroundings. And
yet, Scully detected a perceptible tension flowing from the
woman, which was at odds not only with her supposed
preoccupation with her food but more importantly, with the
innocuous mood of the evening.

Scully didn't know why the woman had captured her attention.
It was more than just the sense of anxiety and loneliness
that she exuded. Scully couldn't put her finger on it, but
she was overwhelmed with a sudden affinity for the dark-
haired woman.

"That's Sally."

Scully jumped slightly. She had been so absorbed in her
contemplation of the figure in the corner that she hadn't
even noticed her mother's approach.

"How long has she been here?"

Margaret reflected for a few moments and then replied, "About
a year. She lived here for nearly five years until 1994 when
she left quite suddenly. But she just came back to us about
ten or twelve months ago, and has been here ever since."

"Has she always been like that - so withdrawn and scared?"

Margaret shook her head. "No, not really. She always had a
tendency to shut herself off, to go into her own world, but
it wasn't until this time - since her return - that it's been
so noticeable... We've all been quite worried about her,
actually."

Scully's eyes had remained fixed on Sally throughout the
brief interchange. The woman hadn't looked up once, hadn't
signalled a need for a company, and yet Scully felt drawn to
her by an incomprehensible pull. Still without tearing her
eyes from the young woman, Scully asked softly, "Do you think
she'd mind if I tried to talk with her?"

Margaret looked at her daughter in surprise. Dana's face bore
an expression of deep compassion, and Margaret sensed that
the inexplicable intensity of her daughter's feelings for
this stranger was something instinctive. She knew that her
daughter had the capacity to feel things deeply, almost too
deeply, which was why Dana normally closed off those
channels. But something had been triggered within her this
time. Something which she couldn't repress or deny.

Scully didn't even wait for a reply from her mother. She
started to  slowly walk towards Sally, immediately becoming
just as oblivious to the surrounding activity as the young
woman had been the entire evening. Scully was only a foot
away when Sally became aware of her approach. The agent saw
her stiffen, and then her head snapped up, fixing her eyes on
Scully with a powerful intensity. Scully gasped. Those
eyes... She *knew* those eyes.

The defensive glare that had filled the hazel eyes quickly
drained away and was replaced by a look of fear. For a split
second, Scully thought that she had seen a flicker of
recognition pass across Sally's face - but as soon as she
sensed it, it was gone.

Seeing the girl's fright, Scully automatically lifted her
hand and quickly said, "It's OK, Sally. I just want to talk
with you."

Sally's eyes remained tinged with fear, but her body relaxed
slightly in response to Scully's reassuring words.

Scully moved closer, and introduced herself, smiling softly
as she spoke. "I'm Dana - Dana Scully."

"Are you Margaret's daughter?" Sally's voice was delicate and
fragile. There was an underlying anguish in her tone, that
Scully could only recognise because of its familiarity.

She nodded. Sally didn't respond, she just continued eating
her meal with a determined energy. Scully brought a nearby
chair over and sat down next to Sally.  The silence between
the pair remained unbroken for a number of minutes and Scully
was reminded of the comfortable silences into which she and
Mulder often sank. There was no doubt in her mind who this
woman was, but her partner's unexpected intrusion into her
thoughts startled her, nonetheless. She felt compelled to
push the notion aside, and deliberately asked the frightened
girl the most mundane question she could think of.

"So, are you having a good time tonight?"

Sally mumbled, "The food's good."

"Why aren't you with everyone else?"

Sally shrugged and didn't reply. Scully waited, knowing that
often the best way to get people to talk was to remain
silent. Her instincts proved right as Sally eventually
continued speaking.

"They make fun of me."

In any other context, Scully would have smiled at such
childish words emerging from the mouth of a grown woman. But
she knew with certainty that Sally had not said those words
lightly. These were not the shallow jeers and taunts of kids
in the playground that Sally was talking about. They were the
subtle degradations and put-downs that adults were capable of
- the words that could easily push a delicate mind teetering
on the edge between faith and denial into the dark,
comfortless world of self-doubt and fear. Empathy and
understanding surged simultaneously in Scully as she leaned
forward and squeezed Sally's hand in an uncharacteristic
display of warmth.

Sally quickly withdrew her hand from the other woman's grasp,
unused to trespassers within her private space. Then, as if
in apology for the abruptness of her retraction, she
continued speaking, keeping her head bowed and her eyes away
from Scully's sympathetic gaze.

"They think I'm crazy - they don't believe me when I tell
them what happened. No one believes me... no one
understands..." Her voice trailed off.

"What don't they understand, Sally?"

Sally stopped eating and placed her fork on the plate. She
continued to stare fixedly at the remains of her meal, but it
was obvious that food was the last thing on her mind. Finally
she turned to face Scully, and the agent noticed with pain
that her eyes were damp with unshed tears.

"You wouldn't understand."

Sally lowered her plate onto the floor, and started to rise.
Scully placed a hand delicately on Sally's arm and said in a
low, suddenly anguished voice, "Try me."

Sally sat down resignedly and allowed Scully's hand to rest
on her arm, as if suddenly realising that any opposition to
this woman's strength was futile and pointless. Sally turned
her head and looked directly into Scully's piercing blue
eyes, only really seeing them for the first time. The
emotions Sally saw resonating out of them made her gasp
involuntarily, and was the catalyst for the shedding of the
tears which had been hovering on the precipice of her lids.
Sally didn't fully understand what those eyes were telling
her, but the words suddenly flowed out of her in a stream of
repressed memories.

"They... they took me - when I was little. Some men took
me... I don't know where... I have dreams - strange dreams...
I'm being examined. There's always a bright light... it's
blinding... I thought it was over. They brought me back - I
don't know who they are, they're just shadows, they hide from
me - but they took me again. I'd been safe... but they found
me and they took me back to that place... and I heard the
drill, and I was lying on a table, a steel table. They took
me when I was in a park, walking... just on my own,
dreaming... I couldn't do anything, I couldn't stop them...
only this time there were others and -- oh God, I can't
remember..."

The tears tumbled gently down her cheek, almost as if they
knew that the words were expression enough of her pain,
without needing to add their own embodiment of anguish. They
didn't blur her vision, allowing her to see Dana's reaction
in all its painful detail. Sally was waiting for the usual
look of incredulity, of scepticism, of derision to fill those
eyes, but it never came. Instead, they reflected something
completely unexpected and frightening. Recognition and shock.

They stared at each other in complete silence, fear building
within each of them until finally something in Sally's mind
clicked into place and her eyes lit up excitedly. She knew.
She knew what was happening, she knew the reason for her
sense of familiarity with this woman.

Scully felt as though she could see Sally's very thought
processes. A myriad of emotions flickered across the hazel
eyes, whose gaze she could not separate herself from. Scully
knew that she had foolishly allowed her own eyes to impart
far too much knowledge. As Sally's gaze continued to read her
own, she could feel the comprehension being stripped away
from them. She could almost see the words forming in those
familiar hazel eyes - <you know who I am, don't you> - and
she braced herself for the blow. But when it came it was the
last thing she was expecting.

Sally's voice was soft, yet suddenly full of strength. She
asked, almost pleadingly, "It's happened to you too, hasn't
it?"

The words assaulted her physically, and Scully recoiled as if
she'd been hit. Tears sprung to her eyes with alarming speed,
and she pulled her hand sharply away from Sally's arm,
lifting her trembling fingers to rest against her lips.

She shook her head, denying the dark-haired woman's claim,
and was suddenly unable to maintain the hypnotic eye-contact.
Scully felt her throat tighten - it felt as though the air
had been cut off from her. It had been so long since she had
thought about her missing time. She had almost resigned
herself to never finding any answers, and had managed to push
all memories of that time out of her mind, out of her life.
But with that piercing question it had all come rushing back.
The bright light, the steel autopsy tray, the abandoned train
carriage, those women in Allentown... But she didn't want to
think about that, didn't want to deal with that - not here,
not now.

A number of minutes went past before she finally lifted her
head and looked directly into Sally's eyes. She had needed
those precious minutes to regain control over her
overwhelming emotions and it was with an empty expression
that she eventually replied in a tight voice, "I don't know
what you're talking about."

The look of hope that had blossomed in Sally's eyes abruptly
changed to an expression of perplexity, and then frustration
took over.

"Yes you do." Sally's voice took on a desperate pleading tone
as she tried to reconcile Scully's reaction with what she
knew to be true, "I *know* it's happened to you - I can see
it in your eyes, Dana. And... and I recognise you also. You
were there -- we were there together..."

Scully squeezed her eyes shut, willing the words of hope to
stop. It was too much for her; she didn't want to go back to
that time. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, robbing her
of the strength that she had labouriously built up over the
years to protect her from the ravages of fear that would
otherwise assail her constantly. But she couldn't remove the
nagging sound from her head. The anxiously wishful tone that
infused Sally's words gnawed at her and railed at her to
acknowledge the truth.

She opened her eyes, but this time their gaze remained
attached to her clenched hands, lying innocently in her lap.
"I-I don't know... maybe...". Her eyes fluttered upwards and
briefly connected with Sally's, "I just don't want to talk
about it, OK?"

Sally looked at her in incredulity and anger. She felt
something in her snap. "Fine then," she snapped bitterly as
she stood up and walked away. She couldn't explain the sudden
rush of rage that she felt towards the petite redhead - it
was as though they had been best friends for years, and with
those words of denial, Dana had betrayed all the trust they
had in each other. The feeling scared her more than it
perplexed her - she had seen so much that was unexplainable
in her life that there was very little that could shock her
now. But this feeling of dependence and trust and need was
something she'd never experienced before and she was
instantly filled with alarm.

Scully felt panic rise within her as the figure moved away
from her. Without warning, she became aware that the affinity
which now bound them together had deeper foundations than
those she'd at first accepted. She had to draw Sally back,
and her mind decided of its own accord the only way to do
that. Without thinking she called out, "Wait! Samantha, come
back--"

The effect was instantaneous. The woman towards whom the name
had been directed abruptly stopped walking and stood unmoving
for the longest of moments as the words sank in.

Scully's cry had been loud enough for a number of the
residents to hear, and their heads swivelled around to stare
at the pair. But the two women were lost in their own world
and neither of them noticed the attention they had gained.

Sally finally turned around and silently made her way back to
the chair that she had only just vacated. She sat down
wordlessly and folded her hands in her lap, unable to voice
the question that banged painfully in her head. Finally she
asked weakly, "Why did you call me that?"

Scully instantly regretted her actions. She had no way of
knowing for certain if this woman actually was Samantha
Mulder; all she had to go on was a feeling. A strong,
intense, instinctual feeling... that couldn't be verified
without physical proof. What if she was just building up the
hopes and dreams of Sally, only to have them come crashing
down around her? Her tongue darted out and nervously licked
her lips, but before she could reply Sally butted in.

"Do you know who I am? Do you know who my family is?" The
initial surprise that had dampened her reaction had quickly
cleared to allow an unbridled enthusiasm to surface. Her eyes
shone with anticipation, and her voice had started to rise
excitedly.

Oh God. "I don't know, Sally... Maybe..."

Sally grabbed onto the final word and held onto it with a
fierce grasp. <Maybe>. The word echoed in her head, and for
the first time since Dana had joined her, she smiled.

Scully felt the warmth of the smile, and saw the hope that it
contained and she felt a painful yearning to be able to
ensure that she could fulfill the woman's need. She picked up
one of Sally's hands and grasped it between her two hands.

"Sally, look - I'm not sure, OK? It's possible... But I'm
going to need to get a blood sample from you to make sure.
Will you do that?"

Sally nodded, the smile growing larger as Scully quickly
hurried back to her car to get the large first-aid kit that
she always kept there.

When she returned a few minutes later, she noticed that Sally
was no longer alone. As she drew nearer to the corner, she
also observed that the smiling face that she had left had
been replaced by a look of discomfort and fear. There was a
man sitting in the chair that Scully had pulled over, and he
was leaning forward, balancing his forearms on the arms of
Sally's chair. She had retreated as far back in her seat as
was possible without leaving it all together, and Scully
increased her pace, her protective instinct rising within
her. As she approached the pair, fragments of the man's
conversation reached her:

"... look so cute... never seen you smile before... I'd like
to make you smile like that..." He stretched his lips into a
wolf-like grin, and Scully saw that Sally was actually
shaking.

She quickly drew nearer and said, "Excuse me, I think that
you should leave." Her voice spoke with cold authority, and
the man looked up at her with a startled gaze.

He replied with a sneer, "Mind you own business, lady. We're
just talking, aren't we Sally?"

Sally's eyes quickly flickered in Scully's direction and the
agent felt her heart constrict at the terror that they spoke
of.

Her voice somehow became even colder and more firm. "I need
to speak with her alone, and she obviously doesn't want to
have anything to do with you. Would you please leave."

The man finally focussed his attention on her, raking his
eyes up and down her body in an effort to discomfort her and
assert his dominance. She stood there calmly, and her
serenity disarmed him. He stood up, and cast a withering
glare towards them both. As he eventually moved away, Scully
heard him muttering under his breath, "fuckin' lesbos..."

She looked at him with pity and sat down. Sally was still
tightly curled up in the furthest corner of the chair, and
Scully asked softly, "Are you OK?"

Sally slowly lowered her legs to the ground and allowed
herself to relax. She looked at Scully sheepishly and said,
"I'm sorry... I get.. uh, nervous around some people.
Especially men." The last words were so soft Scully could
barely hear them. She nodded her head, and didn't push Sally
for an explanation. Regardless, Sally felt compelled to
explain, "I don't know what it is - I didn't used to be like
that. It's just since this last time... when they - they took
me... Now, whenever I see a man, I get reminded of what they
did to me..."

Scully nodded and her voice was sympathetic when she replied,
"I'm sure that will pass, Sally." Not knowing what else she
could say to alleviate Sally's anxiety, Scully quickly busied
herself pulling equipment out from her bag.

Ten minutes later the two women were walking towards the door
that led to the street. Scully gripped her medical bag
tightly; a vial of Sally's blood was safely stored inside it
and she didn't dare loosen her grip for fear of destroying
what could very well prove to be the attainment of her
partner's life-long quest. She couldn't tell if Sally was as
aware of the possibilities as she was - there was no ignoring
the hope in her eyes, or the faith in her voice when she
spoke - but Scully was unsure if the other woman had fully
grasped all the potentialities.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling her name.
She turned around and saw her mother approaching, wiping her
hands on a dishcloth as she drew nearer.

"You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye I hope,
Dana?"

Scully smiled gently and shook her head. Her expression
quickly changed to consternation as she realised that she had
spent almost the entire evening talking to Sally, rather than
helping out in the kitchen as she had intended to. "Mom, I'm
so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you with all the work. Can I
stay and help you clear up?"

Margaret Scully's eyes smiled knowingly as she looked from
her daughter to Sally. She had known from that first moment
when Dana had seen Sally across the room that something
important was happening - something that was much more
important than tidying tables and washing dishes. She reached
out and gently stroked Dana's upper arm, reassuring her with
a quick squeeze and a look of complete understanding. She
still had questions, of course... but right now wasn't the
time for them. She said simply, "You'll call?"

Scully nodded, grateful for her mother's intuition, which had
always known when to draw near and when to step back. "Thanks
Mom." She whispered, knowing that the full significance of
her words wouldn't go past her mother.

Margaret nodded, and dropped her hand from Dana's arm, moving
away from the pair without another word. Scully's eyes
remained fixed on her mother's receding back and she stayed
temporarily lost in thought until a movement at her side drew
her attention back to Sally. She quickly remembered the
situation at hand, and gave Sally a reassuring smile. Sally's
lips trembled slightly as they curved upwards in a tentative
reply. Her face was still flushed with excitement and
confusion, and Scully couldn't stop a fleeting doubt from
entering her brain. What if this wasn't her? What if it was
just a coincidence? After all, there must be millions of
people all across America who believed they'd been "taken" by
some being, human or otherwise. And how many of those people
would have dark hair and hazel eyes? It wasn't all that
improbable, was it? But then she felt the intensity of the
woman's gaze, and remembered the uncontrollable urge she'd
felt to talk to this woman when she'd first seen her, and she
knew she was right. It *was* Samantha - it had to be her. The
only other time that Scully had felt such an intense pull
towards another human being was when she first met Mulder...
For once, she was going to listen to her instincts first, and
then get the solid evidence to prove it.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her card. "Here's
my card. It's got my cell phone number on it, and--" Scully
quickly ferreted around for a pen, then scrawled another
number on the back of the card, "- that's my home phone
number, OK? You just call me if you need to. Anytime, Sally -
day or night."

Sally nodded and looked closely at the two numbers before
placing the card carefully in her pocket. Her voice was
fearful as she asked quietly, "So, when will you be able to
tell me what you find out?"

Scully swallowed before replying - God, she hoped she was
doing the right thing - "Tomorrow. I'll be back tomorrow
morning with the results - you'll be here?"

Sally nodded wordlessly, her eyes widening as the realisation
hit her that this woman really did hold all the answers in
her hand. Tomorrow... tomorrow... tomorrow she was going to
find out who she was, who her family was, where she belonged.
Tears sprung to her eyes and she whispered a soft "thank you"
before turning away and hurriedly returning to her room.

Scully was out the door with equal speed.

As she drove home, she deliberated on her choices. It was
past midnight, there was no way there'd be anyone in the labs
at this hour to do an analysis of the blood. She'd have to
wait until the morning. There was sure to be some eager
techie who'd be there on a Saturday morning, although knowing
her luck it would probably be Agent Pendrell, whose obvious
crush on her was starting to become embarassing. And if the
lab was empty, then she could always go to the office of the
Lone Gunmen - she was sure they'd have some rudimentary
equipment to give her the most basic of analyses. Hell, if
worse came to worse, she could probably even pull out some of
her own equipment that she hadn't used since her student days
and come up with something herself.

But it would definitely have to wait until morning. For a
moment she contemplated going to Mulder's apartment now and
telling him what she'd found - what she *thought* she may
have found, she quickly corrected herself - she was sure he'd
still be awake. But she quickly dismissed that idea, deciding
that he'd already waited twenty-two years to find his sister,
and one more night wouldn't kill him. She couldn't risk
building his hopes up only to shatter them just as quickly if
she was wrong.

It was one a.m. by the time Scully got home, and before
falling into bed, she remembered just in time to set her
alarm for six o'clock. It was going to be a long day
tomorrow, and the sooner it began, the better.

                    ********************

The alarm went off and Scully was instantly awake. The events
of the previous evening were still fresh in her mind, despite
the interval of sleep. She allowed her body a few more
moments to luxuriate in the warmth and comfort of her bed, as
her mind quickly sorted through what she would be doing that
morning. She ran through the catalogue of thoughts
methodically, deliberately putting her emotions aside as she
decided on the best course of action.

Half an hour later she was standing in her room, freshly
showered, deciding what to wear. Her hand had automatically
reached for the row of suits hanging in her closet that she
reserved for work, and then she hesitated. It was a Saturday,
she wasn't going to work - well, she was going to the labs,
but she wasn't *really* going to work - so why was she ready
to don one of those no-nonsense, practical suits? Her hand
continued to hover uncertainly in front of her closet as she
tried to decide whether what she was going to be doing today
would count as being work-related or not.

And as she stood there, trying to answer the question as
though her life depended on it, she slowly realised the
absurdity of the situation. Mulder wouldn't care what she was
wearing. And the guys down in the lab probably wouldn't even
notice if she walked in wearing nothing more than a hessian
sack. Her mouth tweaked into a grin at the thought. Then her
expression became serious as she realised what she was doing.
She was trying to put it off. For some reason, the thought
that maybe, just maybe she may have found Fox Mulder's sister
suddenly scared the hell out of her.

She didn't know if her apprehension was solely related to her
fear of *not* having found Samantha, or if it was something
more. She couldn't help wondering how Mulder would react to
the news, what it would mean to his life, his mother's life,
his job... the X-files... and her. Scully felt a sudden stab
of... something - fear? pain? regret? - as this last thought
finally sank in. What would this mean for her?

The question was shoved aside as quickly as it had arisen.
She busied herself getting dressed - settling on a pair of
jeans and a plain white shirt - not wanting to contemplate
the nagging query in all its selfishness.

Twenty minutes later she was out the door, having shoved down
a piece of toast and some coffee before gathering her things
and practically running out the house. Whatever the future
held, she wanted it to start right now.

                    ********************

Agent Bill Reynolds loved the lab at this hour. It was
deathly silent; the only sound his ears could detect - and
sometimes he wondered if it was just a hallucination - was
the tight humming noise made by so much stainless steel in
the one room. Everywhere he looked it glinted slyly at him,
as if teasing him to come nearer and test its fallibility.
Which he wouldn't, of course. He trusted the accuracy of his
machines more than he trusted his own wife. It was humans who
had invented  the concepts of weakness, of flaws, of frailty
- not machines. Of course, they were only as invincible as
the humans who operated them, but that thought didn't worry
him. He was a good technician - one of the best - and he knew
exactly how his babies needed to be treated. He knew they
needed to be spoken to with a soft, gentle voice, caressed
like a lover, cherished like a child, and worshipped like a
god--

His ruminations were interrupted by a sharp tapping on the
plexiglass square that nestled in the heavy steel door. He
looked up, angry at having his early morning communion
interupted. From where he was sitting, he couldn't see who it
was that had dared to trespass on his moment of peace, but he
suspected it was going to be that new agent who had just been
assigned as his assistant... that, uh.. whatsisname kid. His
face was creased into a scowl as he pulled the door open,
only  to be met by the fair young face of Dana Scully.
Instantly his expression softened, and he stepped back and
motioned for her to come in, in an attempt at chivalry.
Ahhh... Dana Scully, now *there* was someone worth getting to
know at seven a.m. on a Saturday morning. He chuckled to
himself, wondering how much Pendrell and some of the other
techies would have paid to be in his position right now.

Scully spoke, a hint of a smile gracing her features. "I
wasn't sure anyone would be here at this hour." She appeared
slightly out-of-breath, as though she had just walked a short
distance in a very rapid time.

Agent Reynolds bestowed his most welcoming smile on her,
"Yes, well... you know we tech-heads; always here, doing our
job until its finished."

Scully smiled in a slightly impatient way. "Yes.  I'm sure.
Look--" her eyes flickered to his name badge, silently
thankful that those things were compulsory, "--Agent
Reynolds, I was wondering if you'd have time to run a quick
blood sample for me? I just wanted a breakdown DNA analysis,
if possible. Do you have a moment?"

She reached into her bag, and pulled out the precious vial of
blood, proferring it forward with an subtly pleading look.

Reynolds thought about the analyses that Agent Colton had
instructed him to have completed by the end of the day. That
would take him a full twelve hours to finish. He looked at
the clock on the wall. Seven-thirty... And a blood analysis
of that sort would probably take at least an hour. No one
else would be coming into the lab today. He started to
regretfully apologise, and then he saw the look of chagrin
that passed across her face. It was quickly replaced by a
stoic look of understanding, but it had been enough to reach
him. Without another word, he took the vial from her, and
said bluntly, "It'll be ready in an hour."

Scully nodded and said, "I'll be in Agent Mulder's office -
you'll call me?"

Reynolds nodded and quickly moved back to his seat, grasping
the vial tightly. He didn't look at her again, and Scully
hurriedly retreated from the room.

                    ********************

The pages of the file were starting to yellow with age.
Scully absent-mindedly fingered the edge of the sheet she was
reading, unintentionally tearing the worn paper. After
leaving the lab, she had come downstairs to Mulder's office,
and gone directly to the filing cabinet. For a brief second,
fear had leapt into her throat as she looked through the
distinctive files with their unmistakable red borders, as the
one she was looking for proved elusive. But then she had
slowed down, returned to the beginning and flicked her way
through the files one at a time. Finally she had found
Samantha's file, and she discovered why she hadn't had any
luck the first time. Normally, the x-files were ordered
alphabetically - either by the victim's surname, or in groups
of phenomenon. Naturally she had assumed that Samantha's file
would be under "M" for Mulder. But instead, it had been
nestled under "S" - next to her own file.

Scully told herself that she didn't have time to ponder the
significance of the file's placement. Mulder had probably
just placed it there without thinking... although it was
precisely this notion that upset her. How could he ever have
confused her with his sister? Did he think that their
experiences were related, or was it something far more
serious, and yet far more comprehensible. Did he think that
she had replaced Samantha? Had his quest to find Samantha
come to embody a search for the explanation behind her own
disappearance? Questions flew painfully in her mind. She
still hadn't found the answers herself... Would finding
Samantha also solve her own abduction experience?

In what was becoming a painfully common habit, Scully pushed
the questions aside, telling herself that she was no doubt
reading too much into it. Mulder had probably just placed the
file under "S" for Samantha. Anyway, what was the use in
thinking about those things if she had no way of knowing the
answer? She felt her eyes burning, and forced herself to
focus once more on Samantha's file. As she turned the page,
she found what she had been looking for: Samantha Mulder's
blood type and DNA data. Years ago, when DNA testing had
started to become prevalent, Mulder had arranged for the
small sample of his sister's blood that he had tracked down
through her school records to be analysed. She picked up the
x-ray-like film with one hand, closing the file and placing
it back on the desk with the other. She lifted it up, so that
the light shone brightly behind it.

It was with a sense of irony she realised that the heavy
translucent sheet she was holding was the only question that
mattered. And any minute - she checked her watch, and noticed
that almost fifty minutes had gone by - she would have the
answer.

And still her mind would not cease. It had become so
accustomed to questioning things, demanding answers,
clarifying wild tales, that she could no longer shut it down.
She couldn't help returning to the thought that had plagued
her earlier that morning - if Sally was indeed Samantha
Mulder, what did that mean for Mulder... and what did that
mean for her?

This time her thoughts were interupted by a knock at the
door. She was about to call out to Reynolds that the door was
open, when she realised that it wasn't. Mulder's paranoia had
invaded her to the point where she was now no longer aware of
her automatic actions, such as locking the door an hour ago
when she had come into the office. She quickly pushed away
from the desk and stood up, covering the distance to the door
rapidly. As she turned the lock she discovered to her
astonishment that her hands were shaking.

She opened the door a crack, and saw Reynolds standing
outside with a sheet similar to the one she had been holding
only a few moments earlier. Her normally polite manner
completely deserted her as she wordlessly reached out her
hand for the analysis. Her eyes never wavered from the
object, and Reynolds lips were pressed together in a sharp
line of offence. After everything he'd put aside for her, she
wasn't even going to thank him...

As her fingers came into contact with the cold plastic,
Scully's face finally lifted in the direction of the
scientist. With a shock he realised that her eyes were wide
and slighty damp with unshed tears. When she thanked him, her
voice didn't rise above a whisper. He nodded once and then
looked in puzzlement at the door as it closed quickly in his
face. That woman was *strange*. He sighed and slowly made his
way back to the lab.

Scully returned to her seat. The sheet was quivering in her
hand, her trembling having increased exponentially as soon as
the DNA data was in her grip. She closed her eyes, and placed
the sheet flat on the desk in front of her, next to the
original from Samantha's file. This was it; the moment of
truth...

She drew in a deep breath, opened her eyes, and picked one
sheet up in each hand. With infinitesimal slowness, she
raised them up towards the light, and then - with a final
prayer - slid one behind the other.

Her eyes stared blankly at the result...

                    ********************

The union was perfect. The symmetrical alignment of the peaks
and troughs provided a clear-cut answer to the question that
had plagued her for what felt like all eternity.

Scully was no longer aware of outside phenomenon. She didn't
notice as the two sheets tumbled from her now quaking hands
onto the floor, sliding along the surface with a "swish" that
only just registered in her subconscious. Her glazed eyes
were fixed on the door as slowly, almost imperceptibly, the
significance of what she had just seen started to sink in.

Sally's and Samantha's DNA were identical. Sally was
Samantha.

Samantha.

With a brutality that brought her snapping back to life,
Scully gasped. She remembered the fear she had held at the
halfway house,  wondering if Sally had fully comprehended all
the possible outcomes of the situation. Only now she realised
that it was she who hadn't grasped the implications... The
truth hit Scully with agonising clarity: she hadn't believed
it was possible. She had started to perceive Mulder's quest
as an impossible dream. It was too sought after. He needed it
too much. It was incomprehensible, out of his reach...
Unattainable.

Until today.

With a start Scully brought herself out of her state of
reverie. What was the point in pondering what was now in the
past? What she should be doing was driving to Mulder's place,
showing him the evidence, and watching the smile crack onto
his face.

She hurriedly pushed away from the desk, stuffed Samantha's
file back in the drawer, picked up the two analyses from
where they lay at her feet, plucked her bag from the chair
and headed towards the door.

                    ********************

The drive passed in a fog of disbelief. Luckily the roads
were still deserted at this hour, as the state she was in
wasn't the most conducive to good driving.

<Samantha>

The name echoed ceaselessly in her head. Selfishly, it pushed
aside all other thoughts, burning itself into every shadowy
corner of her mind. Strangely enough, the now hollow-sounding
word was accompanied with the image of the eight year-old
Samantha that she had always associated with her partner. The
woman with the dark hair and scared, hazel eyes had almost
disappeared from her memory. The concreteness of her presence
proving too much of a reality for Scully's brain to properly
process.

She pulled up outside Mulder's apartment block. Turning the
ignition off with a slow gesture, Scully slumped into her
seat slightly. She lifted her eyes in the direction of
Mulder's window... and felt tears pricking against the back
of her eyes. She quelled the emotion almost as quickly as it
had arisen, feeling foolish for allowing the brief wave of
sentimentality to flow through her.

Scully turned her attention quickly back to the task at hand,
gathering her bag and the analyses with one hand, while
opening the car door briskly with the other. She stepped onto
the pavement, shut and locked the car door, and set off
towards the building.

Five minutes later she was standing in front of Mulder's
door. She hesitated a split second before knocking, fear
suddenly coursing through her. As she waited for Mulder to
answer the door she had time to wonder about this fear. The
worries that had plagued her when she had first considered
the possibility that the tiny, frightened woman was Samantha
Mulder quickly resurfaced. Despite her best efforts she could
not completely ignore the feeling of anxiety that assailed
her... What would this mean for the future?

Before she had time to delve further, the door swung open and
Mulder stood in front of her. He was wearing a pair of blue
track pants, and a scruffy white t-shirt. From his slightly
dazed appearance Scully assumed that she'd woken him.

"Scully?" He appeared slightly confused as he stood aside to
let her in, closing the door gently behind her. "What's up?"

Her mouth was inexplicably dry. She didn't greet his eyes as
she said in a low voice, "Mulder, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
wake you."

Mulder looked at his partner. Her face was averted slightly
and her words sounded stiff and wooden. He knew immediately
that something was wrong. He waited, knowing that his silence
would be enough to provoke her into speech.

Scully felt his stare, heavy with questions. She tried to
open her mouth to tell him, but the words refused to leave
the sanctuary of her mind.

<Mulder, I have to tell you something.>

<How would you feel if you knew Samantha was alive?>

<Just how important is it that you find Samantha?>

<Mulder... Samantha's alive.>

<What would you do if I told you I'd found Samantha?>

<Samantha...>

<I've found her... I've found her... I've found-- >

"Mulder, I've found her." The words blurted out.

Her eyes were trained on his face, and she saw him frown in
puzzlement. He echoed her words meaninglessly, "You've found
her? What do you mean, Scully? I don't under--"

And then he did. He understood. He looked into her eyes and
saw the fear, hope, trepidation and joy and he understood.
The realisation hit him, burning through his flesh, sinking
into his pores, filling his head with thoughts too numerous
to decipher.

This time when he repeated the words, his voice was layered
with meaning. It was a desperate question, underpinned by
hope and a tightly restrained ecstasy.

"You've found her?"

Scully nodded wordlessly, her eyes wide as she felt Mulder's
emotions washing over her.

Mulder closed his eyes, his face blank as he asked softly,
"Is she alive?"

Scully nodded then realised that Mulder had no way of seeing
the movement and replied just as softly, "Yes. Alive and
well."

His eyes flew open and their gazes met. In perfect symmetry,
both sets of mouths widened into a smile.

This time when he spoke the words it was with an excitement
that was only just held in check: "You've found her?"

Scully's smile broadened into a grin and she replied with a
hint of surprise in her voice, as though she too had only
just realised what she was saying, "Yes. I've found her."

Pure joy swept through Mulder leaving an unquenchable warmth
in its wake. His face broke into a grin, mimicking Scully's
own expression. He started to laugh. The joy he felt was
indescribable. It was an almost primal feeling of pure,
unadulterated elation. Adrenalin surged through his veins...

Hearing the sound she echoed him. Her laughter escaped from
the tight confines which had housed it for the last few
years. It rumbled through her centre, reverberating gleefully
inside of her.

... he leaned forward and grabbed her around the waist. Their
laughter filled the room as he lifted her into a tight bear-
hug, spinning her around the room once before replanting her
feet firmly on the ground. Where they belonged.

Mulder asked excitedly, "Where is she? Can we go and see
her?"

Scully nodded without a sound. Her face literally glowed with
delight. Mulder looked at her and felt a tingling sensation
stream through him. His happiness was mirrored in her face;
her empathy made the discovery all the more profound. She
knew how important this was to him and the appropriateness of
it being her who found his sister was not lost on him.

She placed her hand on his arm and said warmly, "Go on -
you'd better get cleaned up before we leave, Mulder."

He couldn't wipe the grin from his face and he simply nodded
in agreement before heading towards his bathroom. Just before
he moved out of sight he turned back towards her, his face
suddenly serious. His voice was laden with meaning when he
spoke, the significance of his words being so much more than
what was voiced aloud. "Thank you, Scully." And then he
turned back and moved into the bathroom.

"You're welcome." She whispered to the closed door.

                    ********************

As they drove across town, Scully filled Mulder in on what
had happened the previous night. When he had come out of the
bathroom, she had started to show him the proof but he had
merely waved it aside. He knew that she never would have told
him if it wasn't the truth. He trusted her, and he didn't
need to waste his time staring at graphs.

Mulder questioned his partner persistently. What was she
like? Did she remember anything? Did she know who she was?
What had she been doing? Scully answered the questions
patiently, even though she had already told Mulder everything
she knew. The only thing she hadn't mentioned was Sally's -
Samantha's - supposed recognition of her. She decided that he
didn't need to know that. Not just yet.

When they were only about ten minutes away from their
destination, Mulder fell silent. The questions that continued
to pound his head were slowly being drowned out by the fears.
He had been chasing after his sister for so long now that he
had never taken the time to contemplate what would happen if
he found her - if he *really* found her.

He remembered the last time with painful clarity. Looking
back on it now, he quickly realised that even in the midst of
it all - when he had desperately hoped that Samantha's still
warm body was going to be pulled out of that icy river -
there had been a small niggle of doubt inside of him. He had
never completely committed himself to believing that it was
her - there had been something missing, something not quite
right... But this time he knew without question that it was
his sister they were on their way to see. Not just because of
the undeniable evidence that Scully had been waving under his
nose, but because it felt right. It was her.

Despite the finality of this knowledge, his anxiety would not
be relieved. There were so many possible paths the next half-
an-hour could hold he couldn't even formulate a definite
fear. Instead he was just aware of a constant, all-round
doubt that gnawed away at him. However, his ruminations were
cut short as they turned into the street of the halfway
house.

He hadn't even seen the lights before he knew that something
was wrong.

                    ********************

Within the fraction of a second, the pulsing blue and red
luminescence of the police vehicle lights came into view and
he heard Scully gasp. His heart turned to ice and his eyes
closed of their own accord. A chant started to circle
rhythmically in his head, "no, no, no, no, no..." It wasn't
until he felt Scully's grip on his arm, and heard her anxious
voice reassuring him that he realised he'd spoken the chant
aloud.

The car sped up and pulled up in front of the house with a
squeal of tyres. Seatbelts were wrenched off, car doors flung
open and then slammed shut in synchrony. They hit the bottom
step together and raced up them two at a time. Mulder reached
the door just ahead of Scully but in the time it took him to
figure out whether to pull or push she had caught up. They
entered the house simultaneously.

Scully recognised the face of one of the women that she'd
been helping in the kitchen the night before.

"Jenny - what's going on?"

Jenny looked at the agent with a startled expression. "Oh,
Dana - are you here to see Margaret? She's around here
somewhere--"

Scully shook her head impatiently, "No - I'm looking for
Sally."

Jenny's face blanched visibly and her eyes shifted nervously
as she echoed, "You're looking for Sally?"

Scully nodded sharply and Mulder stepped closer to his
partner, staring at Jenny with an intense gaze. Jenny
swallowed and said softly, "Sally seems to have, uh...
disappeared. We don't--"

"Goddammit!" Mulder's expletive cut the woman off abruptly.
The force of his anger literally pushed him away from the two
women, as he swivelled around and kicked his foot into the
wall.

Scully winced visibly and turned in Mulder's direction. She
could feel the emotions pouring off him in thick waves. The
anger was overwhelming, but it couldn't completely disguise
the intensity of his pain which was written across his face
with an indelible mark.

As she had seen him do so many times before, Scully watched
helplessly as Mulder strode back to her side and started to
vent his wrath on the hapless woman. He leaned down so that
he was almost at eye level with Jenny, and his arms
gesticulated wildly as the words flew out of his mouth in an
angry stream.

"What do you mean - she's disappeared?!! How the hell can
that happen?! Don't you pay attention to what's going on -
don't you look after people here? Protect them? What sort of
place is this?!" His voice escalated with each demand, his
rage proving a welcome, yet temporary balm to the pain of
loss.

Scully knew exactly what was going on in Mulder's mind and
while her heart bled painfully for him, she knew his abuse
was unfair. She moved slightly so that she was standing in
front of him, and placed her hand firmly on one of his arms.
His eyes pulsed angrily as his gaze met hers and she suddenly
feared that she was going to become the next target of his
venomous words. But he remained silent, allowing her calmness
to douse the flame that burned within him. She spoke
deliberately, subtly moving him away from the woman as she
did so.

"Mulder, I'll handle this. Just let me find out what's going
on, OK?"

His eyes flared briefly in rebellion. He couldn't just sit by
passively, waiting for Scully to find out what had happened -
he needed to do something... However, her determination won
out and without even being aware of it, he found himself
being gently pushed into a nearby chair. Her face was a
fleeting portrait of reassurance as she looked at him one
more time before returning to speak with the other woman.

Mulder watched for a few minutes, but eventually the
frustration of not knowing what was happening became too
much. He lowered his head into his hands and tried to stifle
the memory of the elation he had been feeling not so long
ago. And yet it refused to be repressed. It had been a
powerful new drug in his system, and he slowly realised that
the echo of its high would be torturing him for a long time
to come.

Sometime later he felt a presence by his side, and a hand
came to rest delicately on his shoulder. He didn't move
immediately, fearful of what he was going to hear when he re-
emerged into the world of brutal reality. The unknown
suddenly became a warm and welcoming place. Ignorance was a
temporary blessing, and he clung to it with the desperation
of a dying man.

"Fox?"

The word gently eased itself into his mind. It wasn't the
voice he'd been expecting, and yet it was the most welcome
voice of all. He slowly ran his hands over his face in an
attempt to erase the lines of sorrow that had been etched
into his skin in the last few minutes. He brought his palms
together in front of his face, thumbs resting against his
chin as he slowly turned to face the person seated beside
him.

"Mrs. Scully... "

Her smile was weak, and she squeezed his shoulder in reply.
He didn't attempt to ask her if she knew what had happened,
and she didn't try and tell him. Margaret Scully was the type
of woman from whom you sought comfort, not answers. Instead
they sat in understanding silence.

Scully was now talking with one of the police officers in the
hallway. She turned back to check on Mulder and seeing her
mother there beside him, allowed the tension to lessen
marginally from her shoulders. The words of the officer
washed over her. Some part of her brain was absorbing the
details, but most of her thoughts remained firmly attached to
Mulder.

She become suddenly aware of the silent gaze of the man
standing opposite her. She quickly refocussed her attention
on his face, smiling tersely at him before turning sharply on
her heel and returning to where Mulder was seated. At her
approach, he lifted his head and looked at her dolefully. His
eyes were dead and empty of hope. Pessimism had suddenly
taken hold of him. It was as though his twenty-two year
search for Samantha had exhausted all the optimism he had
held inside of him. Now there was nothing left but a cold,
clinging fear.

Scully breathed in sharply and her eyes flickered across his
face nervously as she relayed the information she had
uncovered. She was deliberately blunt, knowing that Mulder
would be more appreciative of the truth rather than any
attempt on her part to soften the blow.

"Sally was seen going to her room last night, not long after
I left here. This morning her door was open, and there was
some blood on her pillow. It appears that a struggle took
place... The only clue they have is that another resident,
Stuart Colvey, was seen knocking on her door at about
midnight last night. He's also missing..."

Mulder's head bobbed slowly with each new fact as he
processed the details in his mind. Hope glimmered briefly as
he asked, "There was a struggle?"

Scully nodded, frowning slightly at his tone of voice.

Mulder answered her before she even had time to formulate a
question. "Abductees never leave any sign of a struggle."

Scully felt a familiar feeling of impatience rise within her
but it was a mere echo of its former self. His theories on
alien abductions were still unproven, and yet she could no
longer contest them with the same vehemence. Things had
become too complicated. And at the moment, the last thing she
wanted to do was fight with Mulder.

"She wasn't abducted."

Both Scully and Mulder turned to look at the woman seated at
Mulder's side in surprise. Margaret's voice was soft, and yet
it was imbued not only with strength but with an undeniable
knowledge.

"Mom? What are you talking about?"

Margaret's gaze was clear as she looked at her daughter,
replying calmly, "Not by aliens, I mean."

Mulder's eyes widened in shock and he stared at Mrs. Scully
intently. It didn't surprise him that Scully had evidently
spoken to her mother about his theories - his amazement came
from her obvious acception of these ideas. She had spoken the
words so matter-of-factly, completely without the derision
that he was used to, and he was utterly taken-aback by it. He
quickly glanced at his partner and saw that she was just as
surprised as he. Her face was a portrait of pure amazement.
His gaze reverted back to Mrs. Scully and he asked her
softly, "How do you know?"

Margaret met his eyes, her softly lined face bestowing a
gentle warmth on him. "She probably got scared by Stuart. I
don't think he would have hurt her intentionally, but maybe
she hurt herself trying to escape. She would have run away...
she's frightened. But she hasn't disappeared - you'll find
her Fox, I promise."

Mulder was speechless. Conflicting emotions raged within him,
and he didn't know which one to tackle first. Curiosity at Mrs.
Scully's certainty, worry about what had happened to Samantha,
fear for her safety, relief that it wasn't another abduction...
All he could do was stare at Mrs. Scully and allow her to read,
with the consummate ease that was obviously a Scully trait, the
emotions that played across his face.

Scully watched the interchange silently. Her knowledge of
them both was so intimate that she could almost hear the
silent conversation that was being carried out between them.
She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the
intrusive ring of her cell phone. She felt two pairs of eyes
following her hands as she pulled the phone out from her coat
pocket. She answered abruptly, annoyed at the disruption.

"Scully."

Mulder's eyes were trained on her so he was able to witness
the brief flash of surprise that washed across her face
before she lifted her gaze to his and stared at him open-
mouthed. He immediately leaned forward and strained to hear
the other side of the conversation but to no avail. However,
it became immediately obvious who she was speaking to.

"No.. no, that's OK... Of course you can ring me - that's why
I gave you my number..."

All Mulder could hear was the fuzzy sound of sobbing mixed
with indistinguishable words.

"Sally, calm down.... It's OK..."

Blue eyes were locked with hazel as the conversation
continued.

"Where are you? I'll come and get you... Just tell me where
you are, Sally..."

Scully gestured frantically for something to write on, and
Mulder wrenched his notepad and pen out of his pocket. She
crouched down, grabbing the pen as he held the pad open on
his knee. She scrawled an address down furiously and then
spoke once more into the phone. "Sally, just stay there -
we'll come and get you right away. Don't move, OK?"

As soon as she had turned off the phone, Mulder was on his
feet. Scully looked at her mother and asked swiftly, "How do
we get to Anderson Park - on Ridge Oak Court?"

Margaret gave them directions as the three of them strode
rapidly towards the door. Mulder placed his hand on the glass
barrier and started to push it open. He stopped midway and
turned back towards Mrs. Scully, who had remained a few feet
back.

"Thank you." He said softly.

She smiled enigmatically in reply. He quickly pushed the door
open following Scully outside and towards the car.

                    ********************

The park wasn't that far away from the halfway house, but to
Mulder it felt like a hundred miles. Scully was driving and
he knew without bothering to check the speedometer that she
was well and truly above the limit. Watching the blur of
scenery outside the car only added to the disjointedness of
his thoughts as he tried to ignore the wave of fear that
threatened to engulf him. The last time they had been in this
car together, his body had been pulsing with elation and
anticipation, and yet this time he refused to allow his hopes
to be raised. The pain from his most recent disappointment
still burned within him with an ache that he felt he would
never rid himself of. And so he watched the passing scenery -
willing his thoughts to concentrate on the blue of the sky
and the green of the grass...

It was Scully who pulled him back to reality. She assumed
that he was silently stewing over Samantha, and she felt
compelled to warn him: "Mulder... be gentle with her, OK?"

He heard the voice at his side, but the words didn't pierce
into his fugue state. He nodded mutely, knowing that it was
an effective means of silencing her. And as his gaze
continued to focus on the passing surroundings, he found
himself starting to remember his childhood... Before Sam had
been taken. Brief images fluttered through his mind, bringing
a wistful smile to his lips. He travelled through time,
feeling anew the dull ache of loss as it tormented him once
more...

The car drew to a stop. Mulder felt disoriented and confused.
He looked at Scully and seeing her undo her seatbelt, did the
same. She stepped out of the car and he followed her
movements and as she started scanning the park, his eyes
followed in her wake.

When he finally saw the figure everything snapped back into
place. She was some distance away and hadn't heard the car's
approach. She was huddled on one of the benches that were
scattered around the grassy park. Despite the distance, he
could clearly make out the small frame, the dark hair, and
the immediately familiar body language.

He'd found his sister.

The realisation rooted him to the spot. He was unable to
move, unable to even think. All he could do was whisper her
name under his breath.

For a long moment he continued to stare at her, his body
resting immobile. When he finally started to move it was at a
hesitant pace. He felt a tight grip on his arm and heard his
name being spoken. Scully briefly interupted his movement and
he looked down at her in surprise - he had forgotten she was
there.

Her voice was softly sympathetic. "She may not know who you
are, Mulder."

His response was silence. It wasn't that he didn't hear the
words, or didn't realise their significance, rather that he
couldn't fully comprehend their meaning - not now. Right now
he only had one thing on his mind. He had to speak to
Samantha.

Mulder pulled his arm out of Scully's grasp with a jerk. Her
hand dropped to her side and she watched with fearful eyes as
he continued to walk towards his sister. He moved slowly, his
ponderous step an indication of his inability to fully grasp
what was happening. He couldn't believe that it was really
her...

By the time he was halfway across the park the adrenelin had
started to race through his blood. The closer he got to her,
the more convinced he became that it was her. His fear gave
way to eagerness, and he found himself walking faster towards
her. He broke into a jog which soon turned into a run as he
drew nearer to her. It was at that point that she looked up.

Sally's face froze in terror and she leapt to her feet at the
sight of a six-foot stranger running towards her. The relaxed
state that she had allowed herself to sink into since
arriving at the park deserted her in an instant. Once again,
her world suddenly became fraught with danger. Her heart
pounded painfully inside her chest and she felt herself being
consumed by an overwhelming fear as the man drew nearer.

Then she saw her.

Running just behind the object of her terror was a familiar
figure. The woman who had the answers to her future. The
woman who had comforted her and given her hope. The woman who
could protect her... Sally turned and ran behind the bench,
thus moving slightly out of the man's path. She couldn't stop
the panicked scream which cut through the still morning air
as she rounded the seat and hurtled towards Dana.

Scully had watched the scene unfolding before her eyes in
horror. When Mulder had pulled away from her she had remained
where she was, watching his actions with an increasing
apprehension. It hadn't been long before she had set off at a
brisk pace after him, fearful for Sally's sake of his
overwhelming desire to find his sister. As soon as Sally had
looked up and caught sight of Mulder, Scully had realised
what was going to happen. She had started racing towards
Mulder, but he was travelling too fast for her to catch up to
him. Sally's terror was immediately apparent to Scully and
she felt a wave of sympathy rise within her as the young
woman scampered around the chair and came sprinting towards
her.

Mulder pulled to an abrupt stop as soon as Samantha screamed.
He watched helplessly as she ran away from him - and straight
into Scully's arms.

Scully braced herself for the impact. Sally threw herself
into Dana's embrace and started sobbing hysterically. Scully
tightened her grasp around the young woman, and rubbed her
back soothingly, "Shhh... shhh... it's all right, Sally.
Everything's going to be OK... Shh..."

Scully felt Mulder's presence in front of her and slowly she
lifted her head to look at him. She felt tears immediately
spring to her eyes at the sight of the heart-breaking agony
that was displayed with a raw intensity across his face. He
lifted his hand almost unconsciously in the direction of
Sally's shoulder, and then let it drop without ceremony to
his side. His eyes slowly raised until they were fixed on
hers. He didn't need to speak to tell her how he felt and the
tears fell unashamedly down her cheeks as his eyes told her
of his pain.

Then he turned and walked slowly back to the car.

                    ********************

The icy wind bit into him with as much fervour as the all-
encompassing pain that he could no longer ignore. The literal
distance between himself and the two women was not replicated
internally - his eyes gazed at the pair longingly, completely
devoid of any objectivity that he should have tried to
maintain. Their two forms had melded into a complete whole.
Samantha's hands clutched Scully's back desperately - he
could no longer gauge if the whiteness of her knuckles was
actually visible to him, or if it was purely the work of his
active imagination. The soothing noises emerging from
Scully's mouth travelled across the distance separating them,
but the sounds were moulded by the wind and by the time the
croons reached his ears they had become harsh and jangled.
They hissed at him tauntingly, reminded him once more of his
inability to grasp his dream. He bunched his hands into fists
and then unfurled them with just as much speed. His strength
was futile. Samantha didn't need him. Samantha didn't want
him.

Despite the increasing cold he stayed where he was, resting
slackly against the car, staring with fixed concentration at
the tableau before him. The two women remained motionless for
a long time. The only movement was the slight shudder that
ran down Samantha's back, followed smoothly by Scully's pale
hand. Eventually they pulled apart and Mulder noticed for the
first time that Samantha's forehead was stained red with a
large gash. She leaned on Scully for support as they slowly
made their way to the car.

Scully scrupulously avoided making eye contact with him as
she drew nearer. Instead she focussed her gaze on the car
door - studying the handle with intense concentration as she
led Sally towards the vehicle. Her hand grasped the cool
metal quickly and tugged it upwards, opening the door hastily
and gently easing Sally inside. It wasn't until she'd firmly
closed the door - locking Sally away - that she finally met
Mulder's eyes.

There was a long silence between them. Their feelings were
evident - even if they didn't know each other as well as they
did, their respective expressions of agony and sorrow would
have been transparently obvious.

Scully felt compelled to speak, "She's in shock."

Mulder nodded mutely. The words did nothing to reassure him.
In his visions of this reunion he had always been convinced
that Samantha would instinctively know who he was despite
whatever trauma she'd been through. The reality sliced
cruelly through the lofty dreams he had held and the fear
with which she had greeted him would stay with him for as
long as he would remember. Nothing Scully could say could
cure that pain.

He felt the fleeting embrace of her fingers as they clasped
his own. Their eyes connected briefly and he nodded his head
in acknowledgment of the gesture.

Scully frowned slightly, realising the futility of her
comfort. Mulder needed so much more than she could give him
right now. Her fingers slipped out of his grasp and she moved
around to the driver's side of the car.

As she slid into her seat Scully turned and looked at the
figure sitting behind her. Sally was scrunched up as tightly
as possible against the door while her eyes stared blindly
out the window. Sally didn't move an inch when the other door
opened and Mulder joined them in the car. Scully couldn't
tell if she was even aware of her surroundings or if she was
just ignoring their presence. Whichever was the case, the
effect was the same. As Scully turned her face towards the
front windshield Mulder's blank expression swam before her
eyes. Looking at him closely - as he stared almost
obsessively at his sister - she quickly understood that his
inner turmoil had moved beyond pain. He was now buried in the
sorrow of resignation and defeat. The dullness of his stare
was only one signal among many. Scully sighed. She knew that
it was out of her hands; Mulder's reconciliation with his
sister was just as elusive now as it had ever been.

                    ********************

"Mulder?"

Scully's voice shattered the silence which enveloped the
trio. Mulder slowly pulled his gaze away from his sister's
huddled form and turned in his partner's direction. His mouth
was too dry and closed up to speak so he merely looked at her
questioningly.

"We need to ring the halfway house - speak to Mom... tell her
what's happening."

Mulder nodded. There was a long pause until it dawned on
Mulder that by "we", Scully had meant him. He reluctantly
pulled his phone out of his pocket; talking to Mrs. Scully
meant making concrete statements, it meant describing what
had happened... it meant reliving the nightmare that he had
just experienced. But he knew that Scully was right, and with
no more vacillation, he dialled the number that Scully
dictated to him.

As he was on the verge of pressing the "send" button, Scully
quickly added, "Tell Mom that I'm taking her back to my
place."

Mulder lifted his eyes in surprise. She appeared to be
concentrating on the road ahead, but Mulder could tell she
was awaiting his reaction. Before he had time to ask her any
questions she replied in a detached voice, "She'll feel
safer, more comfortable, there. Plus I'll be able to keep an
eye on her - I think she needs that right now."

Scully kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, but her thoughts
were far from the road. In her mind she answered the question
that she knew Mulder wanted to ask her: "Why you, Scully? Why
should you be taking on the responsibility for my sister?"
How could she tell him about the deep affinity she felt for a
woman she'd met less than twenty-four hours ago? How could
she tell him about what Sally had said - the shadowy figures,
the bright light, her recognition of Scully... She knew what
conclusions Mulder would draw, but she knew just as surely
that they weren't the same as the ones *she* wanted to reach.
She needed time with Sally... Time to delve into whatever
knowledge the young woman had. If Mulder was aware of any of
that, he would only smother them both with his need to know
the truth.

Mulder spoke quickly to Mrs. Scully over the phone, revealing
as little as possible about what had happened. He terminated
the conversation just as they pulled up in front of Scully's
apartment building. As the three figures left the car, two of
them instantly gravitated towards each other. Mulder watched
with sad eyes as his sister attached herself to Scully's side
while his partner's arm slid comfortingly around Samantha's
shoulders. They were just a few feet ahead of him, and yet
the distance felt insurmountable. He was the proverbial third
wheel in this trio and the cruel irony of the situation
didn't escape him.

As they approached Scully's apartment door, Mulder pulled his
keys out of his pocket. Although she hadn't spoken, Scully's
need for his help was evident. She couldn't reach her own
keys because of the scared woman stuck like velcro against
her side so he quickly stepped in to help. As he slid past
the two women he was immediately aware of Samantha's
reaction. Her body stiffened and cringed even further against
Scully. This was accompanied by a small gasp of anxiety that
left Mulder cold. With difficulty he managed to turn the key
and open the door. He pressed himself hard against the wall
as they moved past him, fearful of drawing yet another cry of
fear. However, Scully and Samantha entered the apartment with
the same intense silence that had enshrouded them for the
last ten minutes.

Mulder came in and shut the door behind him. The others moved
over to Scully's couch but his own legs refused to take
another step. A feeling of acute lethargy descended on him
and he felt completely sapped of energy. The effort of
holding back the anger, the hurt, and the agony had become
too much for him. But rather than exploding into a flame of
rage his body had chosen the other path: passivity. For the
first time in his life he was overwhelmed with exhaustion.
The chase had gone on too long, had claimed too many
victims... all the passion he had spent over the past twenty-
two years was simply draining away, leaving only an empty
shell.

                    ********************

Scully's main concern had been for Sally. The young woman's
clinginess was worrying her medical instincts and
consequently she hadn't been paying much attention to her
partner's movements. As she gently lowered Sally onto the
couch, and started to do a fleeting physical she was vaguely
conscious of Mulder's inactivity. Out of the corner of her
eye, she could see that he remained by the door and didn't
move for a good five or ten minutes. But it wasn't until she
started to get up from the couch with the intention of
getting her first aid kit, that she finally looked at him.
She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight. His face was
completely drained of colour and his eyes were those of a
blind man. They were fixed on Sally, and yet they saw
nothing. They were cold and dead and Scully felt a longing
that was stronger than anything she'd ever known that
Samantha would look up and recognise her brother and thus end
this nightmare.

But even as the wish formulated in her mind, she knew that it
was a futile hope. She pursed her lips together, angry at her
own foolishness, and continued towards the bathroom. Before
she had left the room she became aware that Mulder had
started moving. She turned and watched from the shadows as he
slowly ambled towards a chair, sinking into it heavily and
fixing his gaze almost religiously on Sally's tense form.
Scully swiftly left the room.

Samantha refused to look at him. He could feel the energy she
was using in directing her eyes elsewhere and the knowledge
only pained him more. How could she not know who he was? How
could she feel such fear towards him? The questions plagued
him painfully. He longed to reach out and embrace her -
cherish her solid feel and marvel at her presence but all he
could do was stare at her blankly. Somewhere deep inside of
him, he knew that his intense stare was probably upsetting
her. Her discomfort at his presence had been glaringly
obvious from the start, and being the object of such a
persistant gaze was no doubt just as unsettling for her. But
despite his comprehension of this fact, he couldn't tear his
eyes from her. It had been twenty-two years since he'd last
seen her, for God's sake... He simply couldn't ignore her
presence now - no matter how much it pained her. And so he
continued to stare at her. His eyes raked up and down her
body, committing the view to memory. If she never wanted to
have anything to do with him, at least he could treasure this
image for the rest of his life...

Scully returned from the bathroom, but did not re-enter the
room immediately. She hovered at the edge for a few seconds,
hoping to see some movement on Sally's part. But the woman
remained rigidly tense. She was pressed as far against the
couch arm as possible and even from where she was standing
Scully could hear Sally's rapid breathing. Scully moved
quickly to Sally's side, disguising her worries with a veil
of efficiency. As she prepared to clean Sally's wound she
asked in a soft voice, "What happened last night Sally?"

The sting of the antiseptic was not the only reason for Sally
flinching. The memory of what had happened the previous night
was still fresh in her mind, along with the pain.

"It was Stuart. He came into my room... He wanted to talk, he
said. But then... he didn't. He... he tried to... to touch
me. So I kicked him... and then he hit me--"

"Did he hurt you?" Mulder's voice was panic-stricken, yet it
did little to reassure Sally, who merely shied even further
away from him.

She kept her eyes trained on Scully's as she replied, "No...
I got away..."

Scully nodded reassuringly as she continued to dab at Sally's
head wound.

It took a few more moments for the wound to be properly
treated and when it was, Scully slowly packed up the
equipment. She could feel two sets of eyes boring steadily
into her and she forced herself to concentrate on the task at
hand. She knew that as soon as she looked up and greeted the
eyes which sought hers so desperately it would be time to
reveal the truth.

Eventually she couldn't stall any longer. She raised her head
and looked first at Mulder and then at his sister.

"Sally, there's something I have to tell you." Scully
observed Sally closely as she spoke. She detected a slight
increase of tension in the other woman's already rigid
posture but pushed on regardless. "After I left you
yesterday, I had your blood analysed." Sally nodded calmly,
focussing only on the sound of the words rather than their
meaning. She didn't dare think about where this was
leading... any assumptions would only lead to the customary
disappointment with which she had become so familiar.

Before continuing, Scully turned to look at her partner. He
was seated on the extreme edge of the chair, leaning forward
at a precarious angle almost as if his proximity would help
Scully continue - would make Sally understand who he was.
Scully was momentarily tempted to reach out and clasp
Mulder's hand, pulling him towards her and joining the
siblings in some way. She almost laughed at herself at the
thought. Her natural reticence when it came to displays of
emotion seemed to have completely vanished. But she didn't
reach out. She merely swivelled back in Sally's direction,
turning her back on her partner as she spoke the words that
he had been waiting to hear almost all his life.

"Your real name is Samantha Ann Mulder." She allowed a beat
to pass before continuing. "And this is your brother, Fox."

Sally felt their stares, even though her own eyes were
intently fixed on her lap. She had clearly heard what Dana
had said, and yet she hadn't absorbed a word. The
significance had skated precariously across her consciousness
before dissipating like fog.

Samantha's face remained blank. Scully was keenly aware of
the lack of recognition or joy in the woman's face. The
memory of Mulder's reaction to the news was still fresh in
her mind, and Samantha's dull stare was a painfully empty
accompaniment to Mulder's earlier delight.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Samantha?" Scully used
the name deliberately, hoping to provoke some sort of
reaction. The face opposite her was devoid of expression. She
pushed on. "Your name is Samantha. You have a brother named
Fox, who's four years older than you. You were born on
January 22nd in 1964. You lived in Chilmark--"

"I don't have a brother." Samantha's voice sliced through
Scully's increasingly desperate recitation of facts. The
abrupt cessation of noise was tempered only by Mulder's sharp
intake of breath.

The words had escaped without warning from her mouth. What
Dana had been saying had finally become clear to her and her
denial of the fact was almost instinctive. Memories of
childhood had long been absent from her life but she had
always clung tightly to the possibility of the existence of
her own childhood, and her memories of that childhood. And
she had always been convinced that those memories would come
to her in a flood of images the moment she met the family who
she had been taken away from. That hope had remained a
constant in her life - it had become her religion, the source
of her faith.

It was never supposed to be like this. She had never imagined
being introduced to her supposed family by a stranger who had
reached out to her with such selfless need. She was supposed
to know in the very instant that she laid eyes on the person
that they were part of her long sought-after family... not be
told by a woman who had experienced the same things she had.
No, she didn't have a brother. For if she did, she would know
it.

Mulder remained silent as Scully continued to speak,
suggesting to Samantha that her memories were buried deep in
her subconscious and reminding her of all the evidence that
proved she was Samantha Mulder. Ironically, he found himself
admiring the tough stance his sister was taking in refusing
to believe Scully's story. The fiery strength of character
that had just begun to blossom at age eight had taken firm
root in her now and he was almost glad to see that she
refused to be compromised by Scully's eloquent words. As much
as it pained him, he could see that she wouldn't accept him
as her brother until she felt it to be the truth, and the
only way that was going to happen was with time.

He stretched out his arm, and placed his hand gently on
Scully's shoulder. When she turned to face him, her face was
creased with pain. His own face had relaxed into a smile; it
was as if she had symbolically pulled his hurt out of him and
taken it on herself. He spoke softly to her. "It's OK,
Scully."

She regarded him quizzically but asked him nothing.

Mulder nodded his head in Samantha's direction as he
continued, "I think she just needs some rest. She looks
tired."

Scully looked at Samantha and for the first time became aware
of her drooping eyes and unfocussed gaze. She touched
Samantha on the knee and led her from the couch to the spare
room.

Mulder leaned back into the seat, allowing the soft cushions
to envelop and caress him. His eyes closed of their own
accord and Samantha's voice filled his head with an equally
persuasive force. <I don't have a brother>. The terse
certainty of her tone would have convinced anyone of the
truth of the statement. Except him. But the knowledge of its
falseness did nothing to ease his pain. He felt the hot tears
pushing their way through and tumbling down his cheek. He
dropped his face into his hands and desperately tried to
regain his composure before Scully returned.

It was a good ten minutes before Scully came back from the
spare room. She had tried once again to speak to Samantha
about her past, but the woman had remained steadfast in her
refusal to believe that it was the truth. Eventually Scully
had given up and left the room. When she came back into the
sitting area, Mulder was nowhere to be seen. She looked
around in confusion, glancing quickly at the front door
wondering whether he had left. A noise from the kitchen
reassured her and she swiftly headed in that direction.

Mulder's back was turned to her when she came in and he was
staring intently at the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

"You know what they say about a watched pot, Mulder." He
jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, whose breezy tone
belied the sombre reality that they were now dealing with.

He cracked a small smile and pulled another cup out of the
cupboard. She moved to his side and fixed her own eyes on the
kettle as if the insignificant object could provide some
answer to a question that neither of them had yet asked. As
if it had heard their silent pleas, the kettle chose that
moment to begin its escalating shrill whistle. The noise was
quickly cut off as Mulder turned the gas off. Their moment of
silent contemplation was over and they both suddenly came to
life, as they created two cups of coffee.

It wasn't until they had returned to the living room and
settled onto the couch that Mulder started to speak. Scully
had been all too aware of the gamut of emotions that he had
been experiencing ever since she had told him about Samantha
and she was sure that the constant soaring and plunging of
his spirits over the last four hours had to be causing almost
irrecoverable damage. When he finally spoke, his tone
provided some small comfort to her. Although he still sounded
lost and hurt, she could detect the slight undercurrent of
hope and conviction in his voice and she allowed herself a
small internal sigh of relief.

"I think she'll remember eventually, Scully. We just have to
help her - jog her memory."

Scully nodded. She had reached the same conclusion. She
added, placing her hand gently on his arm as she spoke, "But
we can't push her Mulder. We have to let her remember in her
own time."

"I know." His voice was restrained, tinged with the threat of
tears that he kept only just at bay.

Scully heard his voice catch and subtly looked away, focusing
on the coffee as she brought it to her lips. Although Mulder
had never really had the same inhibitions as she when it came
to letting his guard down, she clearly felt his need for
distance this time and she granted him the desire willingly.

They rested in comfortable silence for a long time, neither
of them feeling the need to fill the void with their voices.
It was Mulder who finally broke the silence, placing his cup
down on the table and saying, "I'd better go."

Scully looked at his ragged face with concern and asked, "Do
you want to stay here tonight?"

Mulder shook his head. "No... no... She's obviously better
off here--" he paused and then, as he lifted his eyes to
hers, added, "With you."

"Mulder, I--"

He cut her off. "It's OK, Scully. I understand. She feels she
knows you, she's more at ease with you... I'm still a
stranger to her and she's scared of me. It's normal, I
understand that." It was as much an explanation to himself as
to her and they both knew it.

As Mulder started to lift himself from the couch, Scully
placed a softly restraining hand on his arm. His eyes looked
at their point of connection and then lifted to meet her
gaze. She looked at him with an expression of intense
empathy, an encouraging smile on her lips as she said with
uncharacteristic fervour, "She *will* remember Mulder. I'm
sure of it."

Their eyes were connected with an invisible cord of
understanding and neither of them was willing to sever its
powerful grasp for a long time. Finally Mulder broke his
gaze, nodding at her and raising himself to his feet. Scully
followed suit and they walked silently to her door.

After Mulder had left, Scully returned to her position on the
couch. Her attention was caught by Mulder's half-full coffee
cup and she found herself staring at it unwaveringly as her
mind went over the tumultuous events of the last few hours.
As she recalled Samantha's fear at the park, she felt the
sharp stab of worry that maybe the words of reassurance that
she had spoken to Mulder would turn out to be as false as
Samantha's own memories. She deliberately steered her
thoughts clear of that idea and, instead, busied herself
tidying up the kitchen, focussing intently on the task at
hand.

                    ********************

The next few weeks went by at an interminably slow rate. Both
Mulder and Scully watched Samantha anxiously for any signs of
recognition and their disquiet in that regard only
exacerbated the continued failure of Samantha's memory. Their
only comfort in the whole situation was Samantha's increasing
acceptance of what the pair continued to push as the truth.

While she was still reluctant to categorically believe their
assertions, she had nevertheless begun to feel a certain ease
around Mulder and her rigid denial had softened dramatically.
Scully had made sure that Mulder became a constant presence
in Samantha's life, hoping that it would lead to a growing
familiarity and the eventual realisation of the truth.

However, Samantha still had reservations. She had swiftly
understood that there was no manipulation at work on the part
of Dana and her partner - it was obvious to anyone who met
the man that the pain of the loss he had suffered was all too
real. She could even believe that both Dana and Mulder were
convinced that she was his missing sister Samantha -
consequently she had started to accept the unfamiliar
appellation. But even with those certainties now a part of
her life, she still found herself unwilling to accept that
she was indeed Samantha Mulder. She had never placed as much
faith in her gut instincts as she did now and until she could
hear her own heart telling her that their view was the
correct one, she would never accept it as the truth.

Despite the ambiguities that dogged her relationship with
Dana and Mulder, Samantha had never felt more comfortable,
nor happier than she was now. They had become a fairly close
trio, Mulder and Scully's established camaraderie had
smoothly broadened to envelop her in its warmth. She
continued to live with Dana - the thought of returning to the
halfway house not only terrified her but also filled her with
a deep sadness - and the two women had quickly become close
friends, although they still avoided certain subjects. Since
the conversation at the halfway house, neither of them had
brought up the topic of their similar "bright light"
experience - Samantha waited patiently for Dana to broach the
obviously painful subject, while Scully was reluctant to
travel down that unknown and fearful path.

The relationship between Samantha and Mulder had taken longer
to develop any closeness. It took her at least a week to
overcome her initial fear and suspicion of him which had been
irrationally planted in her mind when she had caught her
first glimpse of him in the park. However, he slowly won her
over with his disarming charm and self-deprecating humour.
She could see the effort he was making when they were
together to keep the conversation light and breezy and
totally non-threatening, and yet she was equally aware of the
soulful and pained gaze he would cast on her when he thought
she wasn't looking. It was this subtle aura of hurt that
permeated his whole being that made her warm to him as much
as his personable character. She found herself longing to
wipe that agonised expression from his face and on more than
one occasion had to almost forcefully stop herself from
acknowledging non-existent memories of her brother Fox.

But she couldn't do that. Not until she believed it.

While Dana and Mulder respected her need for an instinctual
acknowledgment of the truth, they didn't allow that to stop
them from persistently pushing her to try and remember the
past. At first she had been resistant towards these actions
but gradually she had come to accept the continual pressure
in the same way as she had come to accept the name Samantha.
One of the first things that Mulder and Dana had done was to
take Samantha into work with them. Ostensibly the reason
behind the expedition had been to take her on a tour of the
FBI and show her the sort of work they did. But their true
motives had soon become apparent when they lead her into
Mulder's office and he had asked her if she'd be interested
in having a look at Samantha's file.

At first she had demurred, worried by their expectant looks -
they had been obviously certain that the file was all she
needed to jolt her memory. But eventually her curiosity had
got the better of her and she had found herself casting
surreptitious glances in the direction of the innocuous
looking folder. Dana and Mulder had become absorbed in a
somewhat heated debate about the case they were currently
working on, and Samantha had seized the opportunity and
commenced leafing through the file while their attention was
elsewhere.

She had read the detailed notes with a careful deliberation,
storing away the dates and facts in the hope that they may
someday mean more to her than they did today. The
descriptions of Chilmark rang hollowly in her head and the
assorted photos of two young children scattered throughout
provided no further clues for her. Reluctantly she had closed
the folder and an audible sigh had escaped unwittingly from
her lips. Mulder had turned around sharply at the noise and
upon seeing the file in her hand had scraped his eyes over
her face to discern her reaction. She had looked at him with
a blank stare that quickly answered the question that he
hadn't dared ask. She saw the brief glimmer of hope drain
from his eyes only to be swiftly replaced by his familiar
look of pain. She had looked away, unable to maintain his
gaze any longer.

Since that day, the pressure had lessened from the two
agents. Samantha was aware of the intense, barely audible
discussions that the pair shared when they thought she wasn't
listening and she had soon realised that they were beginning
to lose hope. The thought pained her far more than she ever
would have anticipated. She had begun to desperately long for
a remembrance of the past just as much as they and yet her
mind continued to deny her that one desire. It had become her
foe, constantly teasing her with smattered images that had no
cohesive structure, refusing to supply her with the flow of
images which she had come to so urgently crave and mocking
her incessantly with its inability to perform this all-
important deed.

Her days became dogged with this anxious longing and her
nights were restlessly troubled.

It was during one of these typically disturbed night's sleep
that Samantha heard Dana's screams.

                    ********************

The steel was cool against her skin. It made her shiver.
There was a slithering, silk-like garment draped across her
body that provided her with no warmth. Her eyes fluttered
open slowly as she came back to consciousness, aware of
having been lost in a thick darkness for many hours. As she
gradually began to focus on her surroundings she felt her
breathing quicken unnaturally. All she could see was light.
There were people there - she heard their softly murmuring
voices - but for the moment they remained concealed by the
light. She began to long for a return to the darkness in
which she had been enveloped. The darkness had been
comforting, whereas now she was more scared than she had ever
been.

She heard the dull approach of footsteps. The feet slapped
wetly against the ground. The sound was bizarre and yet she
didn't give it a second thought. The noise of voices grew
louder. But it wasn't the familiar reverberation of vocal
cords that she was used to that assailed her ears... the
sound was distorted. At least, that's what she told herself.

A face appeared before her. It was small with large eyes. The
mouth was almost non-existent and its skin was a dull grey.

Her eyes opened wide and the screams started to pour from her
mouth--

--Scully woke with a start, quickly swallowing the scream
that burbled inside of her. Her breath was coming in shallow
pants and her body was doused with sweat. She squeezed her
eyes together tightly and sucked in a deep breath in an
attempt to clear her head of the terrifying images and bring
her emotions under control.

The dreams had come back to haunt her on a regular basis now.
She had thought they were over all those months ago. She
should have known that the nightmares would continue to
plague her sleep. She should have anticipated the power of
their grip.

Scully quickly tossed off the covers of her bed and slid her
feet into her slippers. She stood up and tugged her robe off
its hook, pulling it on rapidly as she moved towards the
kitchen. She knew exactly why the dreams had returned, and
this time it had nothing to do with post-traumatic stress.
She glanced at the door of Samantha's room and couldn't stop
the involuntary shiver that passed over her as she walked by.
Ever since that day at the halfway house when Samantha's
memories of her experience had come pouring out, Scully had
found herself unwillingly recalling her own vague memories of
her still-unsolved disappearance. She had tried as hard as
she could to push them away and concentrate on the more
important matter of reuniting Mulder and his sister but
despite her best efforts, her thoughts had continued to be
dominated by the nightmarish still-pictures that flashed
repeatedly in her head.

She became so absorbed in her reflections, while her hands
busied themselves with heating some milk, that she didn't
notice the silent figure who had appeared at the entrance to
the kitchen. She gasped at the sound of the voice.

"Bad dreams?"

Scully swivelled around and saw Samantha leaning against the
doorjamb. While she appeared to have just woken up, her eyes
were clear and were focussed on Scully perceptively.

Scully's shock vanished in a split second and she replied
smoothly, "No. Not at all." She paused, then added abruptly,
"I was cold - my blanket had fallen off." She smiled wanly at
Samantha. "I couldn't get back to sleep and I thought some
hot cocoa might help." Scully gestured loosely towards the
milk on the stove as she spoke.

Samantha eyed her knowingly. Dana's screams had echoed
throughout the whole apartment and had woken her instantly.
She had debated whether to come out and talk with Dana or
not, and had eventually decided that their avoidance of the
topic had gotten out of hand and that the subject needed to
be broached.

But before she had time to speak the milk started to boil,
and Scully had turned back to face the stove. Scully offered
Samantha a cup, which she accepted, watching as Scully filled
the two cups. Without comment, they moved and sat down at the
table, facing each other over its corner.

Samantha broke the silence that had fallen upon them with an
abrupt question, hoping that it would be a subtle
introduction to the topic that the agent had so far managed
to avoid, "Dana, what's wrong?"

Scully's face registered surprise for an instant before being
replaced with a blank mask. She sipped her cocoa and replied
calmly, "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

Samantha sighed inwardly in frustration. It was obvious that
the gentle approach wasn't going to work. She was going to
have to attack the issue head-on. She looked at Dana and saw
that the other woman was deliberately avoiding eye-contact.
Samantha put her cup down on the table and placed her hand -
still warm from the cup - softly on Dana's forearm.

"Dana, you have to deal with what happened to you. You have
to face the truth."

Scully found herself replying before she even had time to
fully comprehend Samantha's meaning. "I don't even know what
the truth is. How can I face it if I don't know what it is?"
She had almost finished speaking before she even realised
what it was she was saying. Her final words came out in a
mere whisper as she continued to study the warm liquid inside
her cup, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Samantha.

Samantha's frustration could not be restrained and her grip
tightened on Dana's arm, while her words became increasingly
insistent. "I know you've found out things, Dana. I know
you've had a glimpse of the truth... Now you just have to
deal with it. Tell me what you found out - it'll help you to
tell someone, Dana. I promise you."

As the voice rang clearly through the apartment, it became
obvious that an almost imperceptible role-reversal had taken
place. Samantha was no longer the vulnerable woman
desperately in need of comfort that she had been all those
weeks ago. Now it was *her* words that were infused with an
omniscient and powerful knowledge. Her inner strength had
been renewed and now it was her turn to be the one providing
comfort, rather than being comforted herself.

Scully started to shake her head - not because of an
unwillingness to talk, but rather a direct rebuttal of what
Samantha had said. "We didn't find out anything. I thought
I'd found the truth" - her thoughts flew back to that cold
and steely train car - "but Mulder didn't believe it. I
believed it, but now I don't. Now I don't know what to
believe... I don't know what to think." She was unable to
control the shakiness in her voice, but she managed to
repress the tears.

Samantha prompted her. "Is it because Mulder believes
something different that you can't accept what you thought
was the truth?"

"No." Scully replied tersely, shaking her head again.
Samantha's look of confusion pushed her to elaborate, "I
respect Mulder enormously. But we have - and we always will
have - completely different ideas. I can accept that. I think
Mulder does too..." Her voice trailed off as a memory from
the past worked its way into her head. Mulder's anguished
voice filling the steamy greenhouse as he said to her, "...
of *abductions*... of *abductees*..." She had refused to
believe it then, and she refused to believe it now. If
only...

As though reading her thoughts, Samantha continued, "What
then? Why are you having doubts?" The pleading tone in her
voice was tempered by its warmth and comfort. Scully found
herself opening up to the voice as she'd never done before.

... if only those nightmares would stop...

"Nightmares?"

Scully realised with a start that she had unwittingly spoken
the words aloud. Her eyes flickered away from Samantha's
persistent gaze, regretting the unconscious slip. She
shrugged and said dismissively, "They're nothing. Just an
overactive imagination. I've read too many stories of
supposed alien abductions... My subconscious is just building
on my fear and incorporating those images. That's all." Just
saying the words gave Scully a sense of reassurance. She was
right. It was just because of her work with the X-files that
these visions had been hounding her in her sleep.

"Or it could be your repressed memories coming to the
surface."

"No!" Scully hit her hand against the table, causing Samantha
to jump.

But she persisted, "Dana, don't you see what you're doing?
You're ignoring the obvious just because it doesn't fit in
with what you *want* to believe. You have to follow your
instincts Dana - you have to believe what your memories are
telling you--" Samantha stopped abruptly at the sight of
Dana's suddenly ashen face. It was more than just her words
that had caused that reaction. "What? What is it??" She
pleaded anxiously.

Scully lifted her eyes to Samantha's. Their brightness was
dampened with tears that hovered at the edge of her lids.
"That's what Melissa said."

Samantha looked at her in consternation, sliding her hand
smoothly along Dana's arm in an attempt to reassure her.
"Melissa?"

Scully nodded. "My sister."

Samantha sensed that the memory was troubling Dana, so she
didn't push the matter any further other than to say, "Well,
I think Melissa was right--" At those words, Dana's features
tightened slightly and she lifted her hand to her face
quickly to wipe away a stray tear that had started to fall.

Samantha allowed a moment of silence to pass before
continuing, quickly grasping the sensitivity of the subject
and passing over it hurriedly. "You have to see these
nightmares as a signal, Dana. You can't ignore them. They're
trying to tell you something. They're trying to tell you what
happened to you when you were taken away."

Scully pulled herself back from the edge of tears and
whispered imploringly, "I'm afraid... I'm afraid to face
them..."

Samantha leaned forward until her face was only a few inches
away from Scully's. She lowered her voice to a level that was
only just perceptible and replied emphatically, "I was afraid
too, Dana. But I had to find out - I had to know what had
happened." She drew both of Dana's hands between her own and
squeezed them tightly. "It's the only vindication you're ever
going to get, Dana. These people aren't going to be
punished... there is *no* jail that can hold them. That's
what I had to come to terms with; the only justice that
people like you and me are ever going to get is when we can
discover the truth about what happened to us. That's what you
have to do, Dana - you *have* to face it, and you have to
*accept* it."

Scully allowed the words to sink in. For once, she let her
mind absorb what Samantha was saying on a purely emotional
level, rather than letting her usually analytical mind take
over. She knew that Samantha was right and yet it did nothing
to calm her fears.

Samantha started to draw away from Scully - pulling out of
the intimate space they had established.

"No... wait." Scully's hand shot out and gripped Samantha's
arm, abruptly ceasing the movement. Samantha lowered her head
in order to clearly see Dana's expression which was hidden by
the shield-like cascade of hair that fell around her face.
Without making eye-contact, Scully started to hesitantly
speak. "You... you said - when I first met you - you said..."
She paused, needing the time to build up the courage to ask
the question that had been persistently needling her ever
since that fateful day. Finally she lifted her eyes and
allowed the words to be shakily spoken. "You said you'd...
seen me... before?"

Samantha looked at her friend for a long time. The blue eyes
stared at her with undisguised desperation, while her own
looked back in sadness. It was at least a minute before
Samantha responded to the question. Her head moved slowly,
shaking from side to side.

Scully's eyes widened in surprise and then filled with the
tears that she had so far managed to suppress. "But, you said-
-"

Samantha cut her off, saying gently, "You're not ready to
deal with that yet, Dana. If you can't face what your own
mind is telling you, then you won't be able to face what I
could tell you."

Scully's face crumpled as she started to cry. Through her
strangled sobs she whimpered, "But I need to know the truth.
I need to know what happened to me..."

Samantha felt tears hotly burning her own eyes and before she
could stop herself, she had pulled Dana into her embrace in
much the same way as she had been comforted by the agent that
day in the park. At first Dana was resistant, stiffening at
Samantha's touch. But eventually she found herself succumbing
to the comforting embrace. Her shoulders slumped and her body
became racked with tearful sobs as the fear and grief she was
feeling tore through her.

"Sshhh... you'll find the truth Dana, I promise you. You'll
remember. When it's the right time, you'll remember." As
Dana's tears continued, Samantha soothed her softly, "Shh...
It's OK, Dana. Shhh..." They stayed interlocked for what felt
like hours, as Dana allowed her grief to pour out of her in
anguished waves. Samantha absorbed the flow with her
reassuring presence, her own sobs intermingling with Dana's.

                    ********************

Scully woke to the sound of humming.

The subtle noise had gently drifted into her semi-conscious
mind as she slowly awakened but it had taken her a number of
minutes to understand what it was. The discordant
accompaniment of clanging pans and spurts of rushing water
only brought a small smile to her face as Samantha's buoyant
mood emanated from the kitchen and filled the whole
apartment.

Her eyes opened slowly. They felt stiff and swollen, heavy
with the weight of all the tears she had shed the night
before, not to mention the lack of sleep she'd had. She
allowed her lids to flutter shut briefly as the memory of the
events of the previous evening washed over her. Despite the
emotional trauma that she had been battling with only a few
hours previously, she felt curiously devoid of feeling. That
is... not so much devoid as drained. She felt as though she'd
lived through the most revealing, yet frustratingly
inaccessible, moment of her life. Samantha had simultaneously
encouraged her to open up the door of truth while also gently
barring the entrance. And as with the compelling glow of a
burning fire, Scully had been inextricably drawn towards her
inner demon only to be confronted once more by the danger of
the flame. She had shied away from knowing the truth because
she was unable to deal with the consequences.

In spite of her persistent ignorance concerning her
abduction, Scully was aware of a feeling of calm that had
settled over her since last night. Although she hadn't found
out anything concrete about her disappearance, she had
finally come to the realisation that the knowledge was within
her grasp. Her dream was attainable... The day that she was
ready to deal with the truth the memories would be close at
hand.

A loud clattering from the kitchen brought her attention back
to the present, and Scully quickly tossed aside her blanket
and got out of bed. She pulled on her robe and moved from her
bedroom to the kitchen, ignoring the nebulous feeling of deja
vu that teased her on the way. Arriving at the entry way to
the kitchen, she immediately saw the cause of all the noise.
Samantha's head was buried inside the cupboard as she lifted
various pots and pans out of the way until she found the one
she was looking for, pulling it out with a victorious
exclamation. Emerging from the cupboard, she immediately
perceived Scully's presence and turned and smiled happily at
the bleary-eyed agent.

"Hi Dana." She said cheerily. Then as she stepped closer she
added sympathetically, "How are you feeling this morning?"

Scully stared at her. She allowed her face to reveal nothing
of her inner feelings as she replied with a distant look,
"Fine, thanks." At Samantha's doubtful expression, she added
with a touch more vehemence, "Really, I am." Her tone allowed
no room for doubt, and Samantha accepted her words with no
further questions. With the pot still in her hand, she turned
back towards the bench.

Scully looked around the kitchen and noticed the
miscellaneous materials that Samantha had assembled.
Indicating the variety of food and kitchenware that
surrounded them both, Scully asked curiously "What are you
doing?"

Samantha's head spun round to look at Scully, an expression
of surprise on her face. "You haven't forgotten, have you?"

Scully's blank stare was the reply.

"Mulder is coming over for Sunday brunch, don't you
remember?"

Scully felt her stomach sink as she recalled the arrangement
that had been her idea in the first place. Although none of
them had explicitly stated as much, they had each had the
feeling that Scully's brunch idea was the last-ditch effort
to jolt Samantha's memory. It had been more than three months
now since that day in the park and while Mulder and Scully
both knew from their professional experience that amnesiacs
could often take years before any memory of their real life
returned, they had all but given up on Samantha ever
remembering her past.

Scully had thought that a pleasant, stress-free morning at
her house might provide the type of casual environment that
would naturally generate reflection and discussion and she
had been planning this morning for the past week. Only she
hadn't anticipated last night's conversation and right now
she wasn't sure if she could cope with Mulder's company.
However, looking at Samantha's happy face, she couldn't bring
herself to suggest that they cancel it so instead she pushed
aside her worries and concentrated on enjoying the rest of
the morning.

As the two women moved about the kitchen preparing the meal,
Scully couldn't help noticing how buoyant and cheerful
Samantha was. It occurred to Scully that the previous
evening's conversation had, for some inexplicable reason,
been as much as a catharsis for Samantha as it had been for
her - even more so, it seemed. Gone was the shy, timid and
introverted woman that Scully had first met at the halfway
house. In her place a strong, happy and outgoing person had
blossomed, leading Scully to suspect that all she had really
been in need of was a sense of belonging. And there was no
doubt that Samantha had found her place with Mulder and
Scully. Even if she never recalled her childhood, the
closeness that had formed between the trio - particularly
between the two women - could never be severed.

A memory from that first week suddenly pierced Scully's mind.
After finding out that Sally was Samantha, her thoughts had
repeatedly taken the selfish turn of wondering what it would
mean for her. At the time she had not wanted to contemplate
either the question itself, nor the significance behind it
but for a brief moment she allowed herself the luxury of
analysis. Immediately, the irony of the situation struck her.
For those few hours when she had first found out, she had
been busy worrying about how the discovery of Samantha might
affect her relationship with Mulder, her job, their future
together but never for one minute had she considered what it
could mean for her alone. She would never have imagined that
she and Samantha Mulder would become close friends, even more
unlikely that it would be because of Samantha that her fears
regarding her abduction - and lack of recollection of the
experience - would be assuaged. And most of all, she had
never examined the chance that there could be such a divide
between Mulder and his sister... If she had thought about it,
Scully would have no doubt recognised that there was a very
real possibility of Samantha being unable to remember who she
was, but in all that time, the idea had never taken serious
root in her mind. And now, the thought was too saddening to
consider, so she didn't. All she could do now was desperately
wish for Samantha's memory of the past to return.

                    ********************

Mulder stood in front of the door. He had been there for a
number of minutes now, and yet he still couldn't bring
himself to lift his hand and knock. He was dully aware of the
indistinguishable sounds of two female voices coming from
inside the apartment but his mind was too occupied with other
thoughts to bother trying to figure out what they were
saying.

Everything had been fine until he'd arrived at the door. This
morning he'd gotten out of bed, gone for a jog, had a shower,
quickly glanced at the paper and then had driven over to
Scully's place. He had been happy and full of hope, convinced
that today was the day.  Today, Samantha was going to
remember who she was... and who he was. He was sure of it.

Until he arrived at the door.

Stopping in front of the wooden barrier his hopeful
ruminations had suddenly been confronted with the question
that had so far remained deeply buried by a very conscious
act of suppression. What if she never remembered? It was an
insidious thought that he had so far managed to dismiss every
time it had drifted into his mind. He would force himself to
think of other things, no matter how absurd or tangential.
But this time he couldn't dismiss it. This time it was
yelling at him with deafening force.

... what if she never remembered?...

What would he do?

And as he finally allowed himself to consider the question it
was quickly replaced by other, more potent ones. Could he be
happy with the knowledge that his sister had been found -
that she was safe - but that she didn't remember him? How
much of his search for his sister had been about finding her
safe and well, and how much hinged on him being able to once
again have a sister? Did his disappointment at her continued
ignorance mean that his quest had taken on purely selfish
overtones? Was he searching for her for his own benefit, or
for hers?

The questions punished him with their deadly exposition of
his feelings and he felt suddenly sick. Because he had
finally grasped the fact that it *had* become all about
him... That he couldn't be happy solely with the knowledge
that she had been found. He needed her to recognise him - he
needed that missing element in his life to be restored. He
wanted his family back. He wanted things to return to how
they'd been before Samantha had been taken...

He felt the beginnings of a throbbing headache pounding
against his skull. He knew that he was going to have to
overcome this problem. That he was going to have to deal with
the possibility of Samantha never recognising him, and as
such he was going to have to learn to accept what they had
now as the only relationship he was ever going to have with
his sister.

Suddenly his painful thoughts were interrupted as the door in
front of him flew open. He was abruptly brought back to
reality by his partner's appearance in the doorway. The door
was only slightly open and she filled the small gap making
the distance between them seem infinitesimal. Her eyes sought
his and after a moment he lifted his head and allowed her to
read the litany of questions that were playing across his
eyes and that he was unable to conceal.

Scully understood immediately while also realising that she
had no way of helping him deal with those questions. She
reached her hand out and lightly touched his arm, never
tearing her gaze from his as she said softly, "Are you OK?"

He stared at her silently, allowing her presence to grant him
a brief respite from the pain. Her ability to comfort and
reassure him came not from any omniscient knowledge that
glibly relieved his anxieties, but just from her deeply
empathetic nature that allowed him to feel reassured that he
wasn't alone. That she understood his pain, and that she
would do anything within her power to absolve it.

Mulder nodded his head in reply to her question and then took
a deep breath in order to prepare himself for the rest of the
morning. Scully gave him a small smile and stepped back into
her apartment, pulling the door open wider so that he could
enter. As he did so, she silently moved away from him. She
returned to the kitchen and continued with what she had been
doing before he had arrived, knowing that what Mulder needed
right now was for everything to be as normal as possible so
that he could take his own time to collect his thoughts and
bring himself back under control.

Scully smiled at Samantha and said, "You were right. He was
just outside the door."

Samantha replied absent-mindedly, "I thought so."

They continued with their preparations, talking non-stop as
they had been all morning.

Mulder heard the voices from where he sat in the living room,
and he was irresistibly drawn towards their light chatter. He
stood up and moved to the kitchen. Samantha and Scully were
standing side by side at a bench cutting up fruit. They
didn't notice him straight away so he had time to silently
observe them. While he had been aware of the attachment that
the two women had formed over the past few months, their
rapport had never been more obvious to him than at this
moment. But, more than that, he sensed a difference between
them - an even more perceptible closeness than he had
previously observed. Watching them closely, he quickly came
to the realisation that some subtle shift had taken place.
Before, there had been an almost imperceptible distance
between his sister and Scully - he had always received the
very strong impression that there existed a hierarchy of some
sort in their friendship; that Scully was the older, wiser
and stronger one. Now, suddenly, that almost invisible
boundary had vanished. It was clear to him that they were now
equals.

Samantha started to giggle in response to something Scully
had said, and as she did so her head moved so that Mulder
came into her view. Instead of shutting down and withdrawing
into herself as she had been wont to do in the past, she
embraced him warmly with her smile. Mulder felt a grin creep
slowly onto his own face as her contagious happiness spread
to him. At that moment he realised what had changed - it was
Samantha. Something had happened that had managed to erase
all the pain that had been burned into her memory in the
place of a past. The shadow that had clouded her every
movement had been lifted, leaving a vibrant and exuberant
woman in its wake.

Mulder felt his insides slowly unknot and a wave of relief
swept through him. Suddenly the worries that had been
troubling him so mercilessly seemed absurd and meaningless.
Seeing the joy in Samantha's face filled him with such
happiness that all the questions that had been filling his
mind disappeared in an instant. At that moment he realised
that even if she never remembered who he was he wouldn't
care. All that mattered to him was that she was here in front
of him, and that she was happy.

He felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his
shoulders. Scully turned to look at him and he saw from her
eyes that she knew what he was feeling. Her face broke into a
rare grin which only added to the feeling of warmth which
enveloped him. He stepped forward and said briskly, "Anything
I can do to help?" and was quickly rewarded with having a
knife and apple shoved in his hands.

                    ********************

"... and he needed the livers for regenerative purposes?"

Samantha asked the question of Mulder who merely nodded in
reply, smiling self-deprecatingly in acknowledgment of the
bizarre nature of the Tooms case which they were now
discussing. Samantha's regard shifted to Scully, who was
looking at her partner with a mixture of amusement and
exasperation. More amusement than anything else... At the
moment, *nothing* could dampen the good spirits of any of
them.

Samantha continued with her questions: "And he could squeeze
through heating vents?" Her brow furrowed in mild perplexity
as she contemplated the facts that the agents had just
recounted to her.

"We never found any solid proof of that." Scully's husky
voice interrupted Mulder's vigorous nodding.

He turned abruptly and focussed his eyes on her, "How can you
say that Scully? He broke into your apartment through an air
vent!" The argument was a well-worn one, and Mulder's tone
was light and good-humoured. Scully's only reply was to raise
one eyebrow and pick up her glass of orange juice.

Mulder turned back to Samantha and shrugged in mock
exasperation. Samantha giggled and then said cheerily, "Sure
- it's possible... Why not?" Before Mulder or Scully had time
to react, she went on. "I can agree with you about the liver
stuff, Mulder. I mean, who knows what sort of genetic
mutation could be forming in today's society? I don't see why
we should discount the possibility of someone being able to
survive on five livers... As for his squeezing ability..."
She paused momentarily to gulp down some water and smiled
brightly at Mulder as she continued, "There are hundreds of
people who're double-jointed. That's a mutation, in a way...
Surely it's scientifically possible for there to be a person
out there who's *extra* flexible, like that?"

There was a long pause while Mulder and Scully digested the
thought. Then, simultaneously, they replied, "Maybe."

Samantha burst into laughter, and Scully and Mulder smiled to
each other with a look of subtle surprise; they weren't used
to agreeing about these sort of things. As Samantha's giggles
slowly subsided, she began to collect the now-empty plates on
the table.

Scully saw what she was doing and quickly cried, "Samantha -
don't do that. You did most of the preparation for the meal.
Let me do the dishes." Samantha started to protest but was
silenced with a look from Scully. She immediately removed her
hands from the plate and leaned back in her chair in
resignation.

Scully smiled at Samantha and then gathered the three plates
together. Mulder picked up the remaining miscellaneous items
on the table and the pair headed to the kitchen. Mulder
seized the moment alone with his partner and whispered
eagerly, "She seems really happy, doesn't she?"

Scully turned to Mulder and smiled warmly as she replied,
"Yeah, she does Mulder." She stepped closer to him and
lowered her voice even more as she added with feeling, "Can
you live with that, Mulder? Can you put your demons to rest
now?"

Of course she had known exactly what had been going through
his mind. She had been able to read his doubts and fears
probably even before he had. Nevertheless, her question
startled him. It was as if she had the secret access code to
his soul and could use it at will to remind him again that
she knew what he was going through... and that she wanted to
help him.

He slumped back against the bench and after a moment of
silence replied just as softly, "I think I can."

"Good."

At that moment, Mulder felt incapable of fully expressing his
feelings to her. How could he tell her how much she helped
him? How could he let her know that without her he would have
given up long ago? Simple words seemed too shallow and
without significance; they could never completely impart the
depth of his feelings. Instead, he lifted his hand and
captured the small strand of hair that had fallen in front of
her eyes with his fingers. He tucked it gently behind her ear
and then allowed his hand to rest with feather-like delicacy
against her neck. For that long moment, communication between
them was easy. It flowed from one set of eyes to the other
with a deep intensity that could never be vocally replicated.

With a final smile, Mulder eventually lowered his hand and
moved away. Without another word, they quickly returned to
the task at hand of clearing up the mess. They worked
steadily and silently - words would have been superfluous at
this moment.

When they had finished, Scully called out to Samantha,
"Samantha, do you want a cup of tea, or coffee?"

"Yeah - whatever you're having will be fine," she replied.

While Mulder was busying himself filling the kettle with
water, Scully opened the cupboard above her head to get some
cups. Upon opening the door she discovered to her surprise
that the lower shelf, where she normally kept her cups, was
empty. She stepped back a few paces and from that distance
could see that the shelf above that still had some older cups
that she hadn't used in a while. After a moment's thought,
she remembered with a wry smile that the last month had been
a busy one for tea, and that most of her small cache of cups
were now scattered about the apartment in various
locations... Sighing, she returned to her original position
and reached up - on tiptoe - in order to pull three cups
down. She managed to snag two, but the third one remained
elusive, pushed right to the back of the cupboard and way out
of her reach. Suddenly a hand came over the top of her arm
and pulled the wayward cup out.

Scully sank back onto flat feet and turned around. She was
met with the sight of Mulder's grinning face only a few
inches away from her own.

"You really are a half-pint, you know." Mulder joked.

"A half-pint?!" Scully cried in mock-indignation. Then, as
the smile crept onto her lips she asked in genuine curiosity,
"Where on earth did you get that from?"

Mulder suddenly sobered as he remembered. "That's what I used
to call Sa--"

A voice from the doorway interrupted him, "Me."

Mulder swivelled around and Scully stepped out from behind
him to get a closer look. Samantha was standing in the
doorway to the kitchen, looking pale and frightened. She
continued to speak. The words came out hesitantly with an
uncertainty that left Scully wondering if Samantha was even
aware that she was speaking them.

"That's what you... you used to call me. You called me half-
pint, and I called you daddy long-legs..." She lifted her
eyes and met Mulder's gaze for the first time. His face was
immobile with shock. Her voice faded to a desperate whisper
as she pleaded, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Mulder nodded silently, his head barely moving.

Samantha gasped and her hand quickly leapt to her mouth. Her
eyes stared at Mulder with fear and then the slow dawning of
realisation. He took one step towards her and she lowered her
hand. "They're coming back, Fox. The memories... I can see
them..." As he drew nearer she added tearfully, "I can see
*you*."

That stopped Mulder in his tracks. His voice cracked as he
said, "You remember?"

Samantha nodded.

"Everything?" There was no urgency in his voice, only a deep
and raw longing.

"It's coming back..." Samantha's eyes finally began to shed
the tears that had been building up. Her voice escaped in a
choking sob, "Oh God, Fox - I remember it all... I remember
what happened to me... They took me away, Fox. Daddy let them
take me - why did he do that?" The words were drowned out by
the flow of tears.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder perceived a movement
from Scully. He looked at her and saw that she had started to
step forward, with the intention of comforting his sister. He
gazed at her with his damp eyes and she abruptly stopped
moving, immediately realising that it was his turn now. He
turned back to face Samantha and hesitantly moved towards
her. When he was only a few inches away he stopped and waited
with bated breath, fearful of another rejection.

Samantha felt his presence in front of her and she raised her
eyes to look at the man before her. Her brother. Her eyes
were full of trust and recognition, and Mulder thought that
his heart would break. Then her arms slid around his back and
Mulder knew that he would never, ever in his life have a
happier moment than this one. Without a moment's hesitation,
he wrapped his own arms around his sister and drew her
tightly against him. She continued to cry softly and he
lowered his lips to her head, kissing her softly and
murmuring, "Sshhh... It's OK, Samantha. Everything's going to
be OK... shhh..."

~ THE END ~

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Thanks for reading. Comments are welcome.

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