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   Leyla Harrison's email address has changed to: sparkle72@videotron.ca

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From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:06:27 -0700

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 1/10

After All These Years 1/10

by Leyla Harrison

I have a new addy!  (starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

Summary: Mulder and Scully have been fighting a physical attraction to 

each other for well, we all know, ages.  And in this story, in the 

alternate universe of my mind, they have given in to it.   Some of what 

happens in the rest of this story has been covered in other stories, to 

be sure, and I don't mean to step on anyone's toes here in that regard.  

I am trying to deal with it in a different manner, and take it in a 

different direction.  

WARNING: Mulder and Scully romance ahead!  Tons and tons of both Mulder 

and Scully angst in this story.  DOUBLE WARNING: All readers who are 

sensitive are advised to keep a box of tissues handy while reading.  A 

*big* box of tissue.  You have been warned.

Rating: Well, I can't imagine this one getting beyond a rating of R for a 

few bad words, some references to sexual situations, and lot of adult 

subject matter, but nothing graphic in any regard.  There's really no 

X-File here, just mindless Mulder and Scully romance abound.

Most of the story is told from different characters points of view, and 

is so marked by stating the name of the character at the top of each 

section.  The first and last section is told in third person.  Hope it's 

not too confusing for anyone.

All comments, praise and feedback would be greatly appreciated to 

starbuck72@netaxis.ca.  Flames that say "well, that really couldn't have 

happened because it's not possible..." will be ignored.  Comments saying 

that I have not stayed true to the characters will also be ignored.  I 

have written a lot of stories in which I have stayed true to the every 

personal trait, and this story is different.  I know there are some 

slightly implausible situations in this story.  I wrote them 

intentionally.  Remember, this is an alternate universe, where *anything* 

can happen.

Final disclaimer:  I've borrowed the characters of Dana Scully, Fox 

Mulder and Margaret Scully from Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox 

Television without permission.  All other characters are creations of my 

own imagination.  I've also borrowed a line from the movie "Bridges of 

Madison County" without permission.  Please, don't anyone sue me...I 

*really* can't afford it!!!

Special thanks to Lea for editing help (I'm not good at that on my own).

Here we go....

*****

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5, 1996

FBI HEADQUARTERS

Mulder strode into the office.  He was hoping that Scully would be there 

when he arrived.  Which she was.  But she didn't look nearly as happy to 

see him as he was to see her.

"Hi," he said to her as he came in and shut the door behind him.  He took 

in how she looked, as he always did.  Today she was wearing a slim black 

suit with a cream colored shell beneath it.  He took in the creamy ivory 

stockings she wore, the curve of her legs as she sat at her desk, her 

legs crossed.  The pumps she wore that he had never noticed, not really, 

until about six weeks ago.

That was when they had become lovers.

"Hi, yourself," Scully answered.  She was flipping through papers, and 

had looked up at him as he had entered, but had quickly returned to her 

work.

"Guess what?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know, Mulder, tell me."  He noticed immediately that her voice 

was weary.  He was hoping that what he had to say would help take care of 

that.

"I just got back the request I put in.  We have the rest of the week 

off."

Scully looked up at him.  "How can we have the rest of the week off, 

Mulder?" she asked.  She indicated the files on her desk.  "We have seven 

case reports to get into Skinner by the end of the week.  It's a mountain 

of paperwork."

Mulder came over to stand behind her and massaged the back of her neck 

gently.  "Come on, Scully, we can do them over the weekend and get them 

in on Monday.  We could spend the rest of the week enjoying each other's 

company."  His tone was suggestive.  "I can think of a few things we can 

do."  Scully carefully extracted herself from his hands and stood up, 

turning to face him.  She came face to face with his surprised 

expression.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."  Scully tucked her hair behind her ear.  "I'm just exhausted."

"Why don't we get out of here, get some lunch, go take it over to the 

reflecting pool and spend the rest of the afternoon there."

At the mention of lunch Scully wrinkled her nose.  "I'm not really 

hungry, Mulder."

Mulder came over to her and took her in his arms, kissing her.  She 

didn't respond with the usual intensity that she normally did.  "Dana," 

he said in a low tone, "what's going on with you?  You've been like this 

since the beginning of the week."

Scully wouldn't meet his eyes.  "I'm just feeling a little, I don't know, 

smothered."

Mulder immediately let go of her and took a few steps back.  He was 

surprised.  Ever since the first time they had made love six weeks ago, 

he and Scully had been practically joined at the hip.  Every free moment 

was spent making love, kissing, or gazing at each other in quiet, 

romantic places.  During work hours, they were very careful to act 

normal, afraid to let anyone at the Bureau know what had blossomed 

between them.  Mulder had to admit, they had been rushing things along a 

little quickly, but Scully had not given him any indication that she had 

minded.  Until her strange personality change two days before.  "I'm 

smothering you?" he asked.

"I don't know, Mulder.  I just feel like this is all moving a little too 

fast."  Scully had turned her face up to look at him, struggling to keep 

her eyes from darting around nervously.  But she seemed very sure of what 

she was saying.  "We still don't know what this will lead to.  I mean, 

we've been involved for a month and a half now.  Is it just going to be 

this way forever, or do you see anything more permanent happening between 

us?"  

Mulder stiffened.  "Permanent?"  He knew that he shouldn't react that 

way, but the thought of committing himself to anyone, even Scully, 

terrified him.  It meant that there was a likely chance of him losing 

her.  And he didn't deal well with loss.  He knew what she wanted.  He 

wanted it as well, but it terrified him.  Committing himself to her meant 

that if he lost her...and he had come so close to losing her before.  And 

they hadn't been involved back then, and look how he had reacted.

 "I guess I can take it that you don't want anything more permanent." 

Scully's voice trembled slightly, but Mulder didn't seem to notice it.

"Scully, I was hoping that we could discuss this later.  Away from work."

"Sure," she answered in what she hoped was a light tone.  "We can talk 

about it later.  It's no problem."

Mulder sighed with relief.  She understands, he thought.  "So what do you 

say to dinner, then?"

Scully returned to her desk and sat down, avoiding his eyes again.  

"Actually, Mulder, I was kind of thinking that maybe we should stop 

spending every waking moment together.  It can't be healthy."

"What about every sleeping moment?" he asked teasingly.

Scully looked up at him.  "Maybe we could just see each other tomorrow."

Her tone was clearly evident.  She wanted space.  It wiped the smile from 

Mulder's face quickly.  "Are you sure, Scully?"  Something was wrong.  He 

couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Mulder pondered this for a moment.  Scully was obviously upset about 

something, and he didn't want to push her.  He didn't want to upset her 

further when it was obvious that she didn't want to talk about whatever 

it was that was bothering her.  Still, he was nagged by the feeling that 

she should talk to him.  After all, it wasn't like they were just friends 

anymore.

"I just need some space, Mulder," she said, interrupting the silence.  

Her voice was pained.  Mulder studied her face.  She looked upset.  

"OK," Mulder replied, as calm as he could be.  He was right.  Something 

was terribly wrong.  "OK.  I'll give you some space.  But Scully, I need 

to ask you one thing."

"What?" she asked, looking up at him.  

"Did I do something, say something wrong?"

She looked down at the desk full of papers, closed her eyes, shook her 

head a bit, then opened her eyes again.  "No, Mulder.  It's nothing that 

you did."  Her voice was somewhat controlled, but he could still sense 

that she was keeping far too much from him.

There was silence in the office again.  Mulder shifted uncomfortably from 

one foot to the other.  He and Scully eyed each other for a few moments. 

 Then, Scully cleared her throat. "Can you finish this up for me?" she 

asked, standing up and pointing at the paperwork.  "I need to get out of 

here for a while."

"Sure," Mulder nodded, wishing that he could go to her, hold her.  He 

somehow sensed that she would not want that at this moment.  He felt 

distanced from her.  He couldn't recall feeling like this once since they 

were involved.  Mulder used to joke that there were two ways to determine 

time in his life - before they had gotten involved and after.  They had 

been like this before, but not now.

Scully gathered her things and headed for the door.  Mulder didn't turn 

to watch her go.  When she reached it, she paused.  She turned around to 

face him again.  "Mulder."

His back was still to her.  "Yes?"

"I love you," she said softly.  Without even seeing her face, her knew 

that she was crying.  Then he heard the door open and Scully was gone.  

He didn't even have the chance to reply. 

*****

Mulder: 

Two days passed.  Scully didn't come into work for the rest of the week. 

 I called her once, on Thursday afternoon, but got her answering machine. 

 I'm sure my message sounded pretty pathetic.  As soon as I hung up, I 

wished that I could somehow erase what I had said.  

"Scully, I don't know what's gotten you so upset, but I was hoping we 

could just talk about it.  That's all I want, is to talk to you.  Please, 

Scully."

She didn't return my call.

I waited until Sunday.  I fought with myself internally.  She'll call you 

when she's ready, I told myself.  But I need to know what the hell is 

going on!

She didn't show up for work Monday.  Or Tuesday.  Or Wednesday.  Finally, 

Thursday morning, I called her house.  This time, I got a recorded 

message.  "We're sorry, but the number you have dialed has been 

disconnected.  No further information is available about that number.  

This is a recording."

I slammed the phone down.  Disconnected?  Fear coursed through my veins. 

 Had something happened to her?  I grabbed my coat and headed for her 

apartment.  Damn it, I shouldn't have waited so long.  What if...I 

stopped myself.  I knew that she wanted space, but I had to know that she 

was all right.

I didn't see her car on the street when I pulled up.  I headed into the 

building and went to Scully's apartment.  I stood outside the door for a 

moment, then finally took a deep breath and knocked.  

The door swung open slightly under the pressure of my hand knocking on 

it.  I cautiously drew my gun.  Oh, no, I thought.  Scully, we haven't 

had enough time together.  Please God, I prayed, don't let anything have 

happened to her.

I pushed the door open the rest of the way.  What I saw shocked me.

The apartment was empty.  It had been cleared out.  All of Scully's 

furniture was gone.  I quickly checked every room.  Nothing.  There was 

some leftover food in the refrigerator, baking soda and a stick of 

butter, but nothing else.  The closets were empty.  There was no phone 

plugged into the jack.  The pictures on the wall were gone.  No clothes 

in the closet.  Nothing in the medicine cabinet.  The apartment was 

completely empty.

I wandered through the apartment in a daze.  I didn't understand what had 

happened.  Finally, I made it back out to my car.  I had the sense to 

think to call Margaret Scully on my cel phone. Before I could dial her 

number the phone rang.  Scully, I thought, answering it immediately.  

"Mulder, this is Skinner.  I wanted to let you know that Agent Scully has 

resigned."

My hopes that it was Scully on the phone vanished.  "What?" I asked, 

incredulously.  "She's resigned?"

"I thought you knew, until I saw that the witness's signature on her 

resignation form wasn't yours."  Skinner's voice was calm, but I could 

tell that he was disappointed.  Of course he's going to be calm, I 

thought.  He's not me.  He has no clue that we got involved.  He's not in 

love with her like I am.

"I...didn't know."  I managed to get out.  "I'm at her apartment now, and 

apparently she's moved.  Her things are gone.  Did she leave a forwarding 

address on the resignation form?"

"Agent Mulder, I thought that you would have known more about this."

"No, sir," I answered.  I was hoping to get some answers from you, I 

thought.

"No forwarding address.  She put on the form that her Annapolis address 

would be invalid after yesterday."  Skinner paused.  I wanted to ask him 

if he had seen her, talked to her.  What her mental state had been like. 

 This had to be some terrible mistake.  "I spoke to her on the phone 

Monday after getting her resignation.  I asked her why she was leaving," 

Skinner informed me, his tone somewhat less formal than it usually was.  

"She said that she didn't feel comfortable discussing it with me."

Well, I thought, at least that makes two of us.  She obviously didn't 

feel comfortable discussing it with me, either.  "Thank you, sir."

"It's a great loss to the Bureau," Skinner said, back to his professional 

demeanor.  

"Yes," I choked out, suddenly feeling tears forming in my throat.  "Thank 

you, sir."

I ended the call and dialed Margaret Scully as I started the car.  She 

answered right away.  "Hello?"

"Mrs. Scully, it's Fox Mulder."  My tone was terse.  "I need to talk to 

you about Scully."

"I know, Fox," she answered.  "I was expecting you to call.  Can you stop 

by?"

"I'm on my way there now."

*****

Continued in part 2/10

After All These Years 2/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

*****

Margaret Scully: 

I answered the door to Fox about 40 minutes later.  I had not been 

surprised that he had called.  Dana had told me to expect it.  He looked 

grim, exhausted, sad.  I knew in the way a mother knows, that he had been 

crying.  His eyes were red rimmed and swollen.  But he was putting on a 

brave front for me.

"Mrs. Scully, I need to know where Scully is," he started, before he even 

stepped over the threshold.

I swallowed hard, recalling the last time he was on my doorstep.  That 

time, Dana had asked me to lie for her.  But last time, well, the last 

time was different.  She wasn't herself then.  She had been convinced 

that Fox would show up and kill her.  This time was different. "Come in, 

Fox.  We need to talk."  He came in and stood in the living room across 

from me.  "Why don't you sit down?" I asked, sitting on the couch.

He shook his head, indicating that he would prefer to stand.  "Where is 

she?" he asked.

"I can't tell you," I answered right away.  His face fell immediately.  

"Dana has asked me not to tell you where she went."  I felt an ache in my 

chest for him.  He was always like a son to me.  He obviously loved her 

so much. 

"Why?" he asked, lowering his voice.  I could hear the impending tears.  

He was obviously trying hard to hold them back.  "Why not?"

I wondered if agreeing to Dana's idea had been a good idea after all.  

But she was my daughter.  I had to do as she requested.  She had sworn to 

me that it was for the best - for both of them.  I had tried to believe 

her.  It was difficult.  She had not seemed altogether convinced herself. 

 I knew that there was so much that she had left unsaid to him.  I had to 

be very cautious in what I said.  "Fox, Dana felt that she had to leave. 

 She had so much to deal with emotionally that she needed to do it 

alone."

He swallowed back a few tears.  "I would have helped her deal with 

anything."

I nodded.  I believed him.  "I know that, Fox.  But we both know how 

strong willed she is."

"She told you...about us?" he asked, hesitantly, nervously, and I nodded. 

 She told me so much, Fox, I wanted to say.  I was overwhelmed by how 

much she had kept from me.  From the world.   He looked so guilt ridden, 

and yet he had no idea what was really going on with her.  I felt guilty 

not telling him.  But I had promised Dana.

"I approved, Fox, in case you were wondering."  I had to tell him this.  

I didn't want him to think that I didn't trust him with my daughter.  I 

had known for a long time that I trusted him with her more than I would 

have trusted anyone.  I knew for some time now how much he cared for her, 

that he would never let anything happen to her.  But things had happened 

to her, things that were beyond his control, beyond anyone's control.  I 

knew that he still carried guilt for those things.  I wished that there 

was something I could say to ease some of his pain now.  But I couldn't 

do that.

"She thought I didn't want to...marry her," he said.  

"She did think that," I affirmed.

"It's not true."  His answer surprised me.  Dana had been so convinced, I 

thought.

"I'm scared," he confessed in a tiny voice.  Like a little boy.  "I'm 

afraid to be close to someone, because...I lose them.  I was afraid to 

lose her.  And now I have."

There was nothing I could say.  He was crying silently, tears running 

down his face.  I felt like crying myself, then.  I was afraid to speak. 

 I didn't trust my words, or my own voice, for that matter.

 "So what am I supposed to do now?" he asked, pacing the room.  "Just 

forget about her?  Just go on as if I never knew her?  As if none of this 

ever happened?"

He was upset.  Dana knew him well.  She had predicted that he would be 

scared, sad, then angry.  I stood up, going to the mantel to where Dana 

had left the letter she knew he would eventually come here to get.  "She 

left you a letter," I said, handing it to him.  I'm so sorry, Fox, I 

thought.

He took it and nodded.  "Thank you," he said, turning to leave.

"Fox?" I called after him.

He stopped and turned.  "Yes?"

"I won't see you again, will I?" I asked, already knowing the answer.  He 

shook his head sadly.  I went to him and took him in my arms.  I didn't 

know much about his family, only what Dana had told me, and that was that 

his relationships with his remaining family were strained.  I hugged him 

tightly, and he hugged me back, holding on for dear life.  We stood like 

that in the front hallway of my house for a few minutes, then he slipped 

free from me and left without saying another word.  

*****

Mulder: 

I waited until I got to the car to read the letter.  I ripped open the 

envelope, unfolded it and saw Scully's clear, concise handwriting, and it 

made my heart ache.  

Dear Mulder: 

I know that you are angry at me for leaving, but I had to do this.  For 

me and for you.  It was truly the best thing for both of us.  I hope that 

someday you will be able to understand that.  I do love you.  I always 

have, and I always will.  That has not changed.  Please do not look for 

me.  Do not try to find me though my mother.  I do not want to live a 

life as a fugitive from you.  I hope that you will respect my wishes.  We 

had a wonderful time together, Mulder.  As partners, you showed me that 

the truth is not always found in scientific facts.  As friends, you 

proved to me the power of faith and taught me to trust.  As lovers, you 

showed me that you yourself have a great capacity for love.  I will 

cherish what you have given me always.  

Scully

Inside the envelope, at the bottom, fallen into one corner, was a gold 

chain.  On it was the gold cross she always wore.  I could remember 

wearing it myself when she was missing.  I could remember seeing it at 

her throat so many times.  I could remember lying in bed with her; she 

was propped up on one arm, her body bare and warm, close to mine.  She 

was looking down at me.  Her face was indescribably happy and full of 

light.  The cross dangled from her neck and I reached up, taking it 

between my fingers, feeling the coolness of the small piece of metal 

compared to the heat on her skin that I had felt moments before.  "It's 

faith," she told me on one of those late nights.  

"When you were gone, I used it as my faith.  That you would come back to 

me," I told her.  

"So it's touched both of us," she murmured.  

"It's become our faith.  In a higher power...whatever that may be," I 

added.

"It's become our faith in our love," she answered.  "That faith has seen 

us though everything."  I smiled, letting the cross fall back on her 

chest, and kissed her slowly, and we had gone back to making love for the 

second time that night.

Now I removed the chain from the envelope and put it on, slipping it 

under my suit shirt, feeling the coolness of the metal on my skin once 

again, remembering with clarity the way she had felt when I kissed her.  

"It's my faith," I murmured aloud to the empty car.  "My faith that I 

will find you someday, Scully."

*****

Continued in part 3/10

After All These Years 3/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

FIVE YEARS LATER

FEBRUARY 9, 2001

NEW YORK CITY

Mulder: 

It was some ridiculous case I was on.  New York City cops had suspected a 

serial murderer in the area, after the deaths of four women.  I had 

transferred, voluntarily, to the Violent Crimes Division almost 4 years 

ago.  The X-Files had been shut down.  I didn't even like to think about 

it anymore.  I had been lucky enough to pull this job.  I had 

interrogated the suspect, who then was determined to be responsible for 

only one of the deaths.  Busy work, I had thought to myself.  The other 

three murders were determined to be uncannily similar, but not related.  

I was to catch a plane back to DC in the morning.

In the meantime, I had the rest of the evening to myself.  In New York 

City.  There was, as far as I was concerned, nothing to do.  I drove 

around aimlessly for about an hour, trying to decide if I wanted to see a 

movie when I realized that I was in a not so pleasant neighborhood.  

Garbage lined the streets, and a few homeless people strayed by as I 

drove slowly.  On the right side of the street were a handful of 

prostitutes.  No, I told myself.  Don't give in to the temptation.  

You're going to get caught doing this someday.

I perused them thoughtfully.  Two blondes and a brunette.  Nope.  I 

wasn't interested.

I headed back to the hotel and up to my room, where I phoned the front 

desk.  "Is there any way that you could tell me what kind of 

entertainment is in this area?" I asked, speaking to the manager.  The 

hotel was cheap.  I knew he would know what I was talking about.  He 

remembered me.  And he didn't know I was FBI.  It was safe.  I had done 

this the last time I stayed here.

"Sir, there is some entertainment I believe you would be interested in.  

You're still interested in the same type?"

"Yes," I answered.  "Is the price the same?"

"One hundred for the entertainment.  And then the tip, of course."

"Prices have gone up," I commented, checking my wallet for cash.

"So has the quality of the entertainment, sir."

"You can come right up for the tip," I told him.

He was at the door in about 10 minutes.  I ushered him inside, and we 

closed the door.  I paid him the $100, and a $75 tip.  He beamed.  "She 

should be here in about fifteen minutes," he promised, and left.

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched myself in the mirror that was 

across from me on the wall.  For a split-second I thought to myself, just 

as I did before I did this each time before, what the hell are you doing? 

 But that thought vanished quickly.  Over the years it had lost its 

intensity.

I got up and washed my face in the small bathroom, brushed my teeth.  I 

had a ritual when I checked into any hotel.  I would not allow myself to 

be in a room where there was a door adjoining to another room.  Wouldn't 

allow it.

There was a knock on the door.  I went to answer it.  I opened the door 

to a petite young woman, dressed in a short, lowcut, tight black knit 

dress.  Black stockings.  I caught the sight of the garters holding them 

up on her creamy white thighs. Three inch pumps.  Perfect makeup.  

Brilliant blue eyes.

And shoulder length auburn hair.  

"Come in," I told her, and she followed me in.

Pathetic, I thought to myself an hour later, as she was getting dressed 

again, that this was the only kind of relationship I would allow myself. 

 She was in front of the mirror, adjusting her stockings.  Putting her 

black lace bra back on.  Slipping back into the dress.  She was 

beautiful.  And she was good in bed.  But she wasn't Scully.  None of 

them were.  None of them had that look in their eye the way Scully did.  

The way her voice sounded, soft and husky and full of desire.

To say that I was over Scully would be a lie.  I had lived the last five 

years without her in a state of denial.  I was not the same man anymore. 

 I had not gone looking for her, as she had requested, but I still saw 

her everywhere I looked.  In commercials on TV, in people I saw walking 

on the street, even in the red-headed prostitutes that I had come to 

favor.

"Thanks," I told her politely, as she gathered her things, nodded at me, 

and left the room.

I jumped up from the bed and went right into the shower, scrubbing that 

woman's scent off of me.

*****

THE FOLLOWING MORNING - FEBRUARY 10, 1996

ONE MILE FROM WESTCHESTER COUNTY AIRPORT

WHITE PLAINS, NEW YORK

Mulder: 

I lightly tapped the steering wheel of the rental car as I drove up the 

Hutchinson Parkway to the airport.  I was grateful for the airport 

change.  I much preferred flying out of Westchester Airport to LaGuardia 

Airport.  Located at the border of New York and Connecticut, the airport 

was small and much less populated.  I checked the time.  One hour until 

my flight.  I didn't want to miss it.

Yeah, right, I told myself sarcastically, like you've got so much waiting 

for you back in DC.

I got off the exit ramp and headed down the road to the airport.  It was 

much easier to get to, traffic wise as well.  Even though it was rush 

hour, all the traffic had been on the opposite side of the parkway, from 

Connecticut into the city, which I was grateful for.  

I turned into the parking lot.  The airport had been renovated since I 

was there last, and I made a few wrong turns before figuring out which 

lane actually led to the garage where I was to leave the rental car.

I slowed down at the intersection, letting a white car along side of me 

to drop someone off, a dark haired woman that seemed vaguely familiar to 

me.  I glanced at the driver of the car, back to the dark haired woman, 

then back to the driver.  I did a double take.

The dark haired woman headed for the terminal was Margaret Scully.  And 

the driver of the car was Scully.

I was sure of it.

I, of course, had been sure it was Scully a number of times before.  But 

this was different.  This was really her.

Her hair was a few inches longer than I remembered it.  I slouched down 

in my seat, terrified that she would glance in my direction and see me.  

The woman I thought was Margaret Scully turned to wave at her daughter 

and I caught her face.  It was definitely her.  She didn't see me.

Scully waved back at her mother, waited a moment, then slowly 

accelerated.  Without thinking, I followed her.  Her car was a white 

Camry, with Connecticut plates, I noted.

Fifteen minutes passed.  She approached the entrance to the parkway again 

and got on, going northbound, into Connecticut.  I followed.  She got off 

a few exits later, in Greenwich, Connecticut, one of the most exclusive 

and affluent towns in the United States.  Glad to see you made out well, 

Scully, I thought.  I kept a safe distance.  Far enough that she 

hopefully wouldn't notice someone tailing her, but close enough where I 

could see where she was going.  She drove for another ten minutes, then 

pulled into a driveway of a modest home compared to some of the others in 

the area that resembled castles.  She parked the car and got out.  I 

remained at the side of the road, about 75 feet back from the house, 

getting out of my car to watch her.

Her hair was longer.  I couldn't see her face clearly, but I could see 

the rest of her just fine.  She was wearing a pair of jeans and what 

appeared to be a loose black sweater.  I watched every step she took from 

the driveway to the house, taking her in with my eyes.  Five years had 

passed since I had last seen her.  From what I could see now, she looked 

as good as she did back then.  Better.

There was no other car in the driveway.  With an investigative, not an 

emotional mind, I checked the mailbox to see if someone was living there 

with her, but there was no mail inside and the outside of the box only 

had the house number on it, no name.  No Mr. and Mrs. Something.  My 

heart lifted a bit.

I got back into my car and waited.  Until six thirty in the evening.  I 

dozed, listened to the radio, read the entire owner's manual of the car, 

word for word, twice.  If she was married, her husband should have been 

home from work by now.  No one had gone into or come out of the house.  

Finally I pulled the car into the driveway.  I had to talk to her.  To 

see her.  To ask her what had happened.  Why she had left.

I summoned up all of my courage and walked up to the front door.  And 

rang the bell.

*****

Continued in part 4/10

===========================================================================

From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 4/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:09:38 -0700

After All These Years 4/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

Scully: 

When the doorbell rang, I was in the middle of making dinner.  I put down 

the lettuce and wiped my hands on the dishtowel, hurrying to the door.  

I opened it.  Mulder stood there.

"Oh, my God," I gasped, stunned.  Every muscle in my body tensed, every 

nerve was accentuated.  I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck 

rise.  I could feel chills, nervous chills, down my spine.  I felt my 

face flush with excitement.

"Scully," he said, that one word, my name, the only greeting.  His tone 

was slightly angry, slightly curious.  His voice cracked as he said it.

"Mulder," I managed to get out.  I couldn't believe that he was standing 

here, on my doorstep, in my life.  No, I thought.  No, not in my life.  I 

mentally tried to close that door, closing off the memories, as I always 

tried to, but felt the resistance.  "What are you doing here?"

"Was in the area.  Saw you driving around, so I thought I would drop by 

and say hello."  He was definitely being sarcastic now.  I glanced around 

the front yard.  There was no one in sight.  His car, a standard Bureau 

rental, was in the driveway behind mine.

"You followed me?" I asked.

"All the way back from the airport," he answered.  I tensed.  I had 

dropped my mother off for a ten o'clock flight that morning.  I didn't 

want to imagine him having sat in the car in front of the house all day, 

although I had a feeling that was exactly what he had done.  "How is your 

mother, anyway?  I haven't seen her in years."

"She's fine," I replied tersely.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked.

Silence.  I stood there, staring at him.  God, even after five years, he 

still looked good.  He looked weary, but he still looked good.  I 

nervously tucked my hair behind one ear.  "Mulder..." I started, not 

knowing what to say.  What do you say? I thought.  What do you say to the 

man you walked out on?

"I want to know why you left, Scully."  His voice was firm, although I 

could hear the fear in it.  "I think I deserve that much."

Oh, Mulder, I thought, as I had for years, you deserve so much more.

The crunching of tires on gravel in the driveway startled us both.  The 

silver Altima pulled to a stop alongside Mulder's car.  

Mulder turned to look at the man who stepped out of the car.  "Dana?  

Who's this?"

My voice seemed to be trapped in my throat.  I cleared it.  "Joe, this is 

Mulder.  My partner when I worked at the Bureau.  Mulder, this is Joe 

Harmon.  My husband."  I watched Mulder for a reaction.  He was white as 

a ghost. 

*****

Mulder: 

As soon as I heard Scully introduce the tall, good looking, dark haired 

man as her husband I felt a sharp pain in my chest, as if I had been 

shot.  I felt weak.  I tried desperately not to stagger backward.   I 

could feel Scully's eyes on me.  I could feel her checking my reaction, 

my every move, my every breath.

The passenger door of the silver car opened, and a little girl with 

auburn hair bounded out and towards Scully.  There was no question who 

this was.  I turned to Scully.  She had been stony-faced until she saw 

the child.  Then her expression melted. 

"Hi, Mommy!" the little girl called.  Scully scooped her up in her arms.

"Hi yourself, sweetheart.  Did you have a good day?"

"Yes.  I made you a picture.  It's in the car."

Scully's husband approached me.  "Mulder.  The man with no first name.  

Well, it's good to meet you after all this time."  He offered me his 

hand, which I took with my own shaking one and shook as heartily as I 

could.  "I've heard so much about you from Dana."

"Nothing bad, I hope," I managed to say.  I was having an incredibly hard 

time talking.

"Oh, no," Joe Harmon replied, smiling.  "Dana loved working with you."

I was about to reply when I stole a glance at Scully.  Over her 

daughter's head she gave me a look that I understood instantly.  Her 

husband did not know of our relationship.  Her eyes pleaded with me not 

to reveal it.  I had a split-second moment to decide what to say next.  

"I enjoyed working with her, too."

I could almost see Scully sigh with relief.   "And this," Joe said, 

approaching his wife and child, "is our daughter, Samantha."

I swallowed.  "What a nice name."  I was having trouble speaking again.  

"How did you decide on that particular name?"

"Dana had it set in her mind that she wanted to name her Samantha even 

before we knew if it was a boy or a girl."

"Everyone calls me Sam," the little girl piped from her mother's arms.  I 

looked at Scully.  She looked pained.

"So, Mulder," Joe asked congenially, unaware of the tension between 

Scully and I, "are you staying nearby?"

"Actually, I wasn't sure yet.  I guess I could get a hotel room."

"That's nonsense.  We have a guest room.  You can stay with us.  I'm sure 

you and Dana have a lot to catch up on, anyhow.  Right, honey?"  Joe 

leaned over and kissed her.  I cringed.  After all the years, after every 

scenario I had dreamed about of what Scully had done with her life, it 

still hurt.  I had sometimes thought that she must have married, but I 

didn't know how much it would have hurt to see her married, with some 

other man.

"Of course," she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice and doing a 

terrible job of it.  "I was just finishing dinner.  Why don't you get 

your things from the car and come in?"

I nodded, heading back to the car to get my bag.  A million thoughts were 

running through my head.  I was thrilled to see Scully.  She looked 

incredible.  I wanted to take her in my arms...

She was married.  She had a child.  She had moved on in her life without 

me.  I should get in the car and drive like hell.  Get back to DC.

Back to what? I asked myself.  There was nothing there for me.  There had 

been nothing since Scully had left.

She had left, I reminded myself.  She left me.  A wave of anger rose up 

in my throat recalling the cruel way she had left town.  It filled me and 

I leaned against the car for support for a moment.  

If I stay, she'll explain, I thought.  And even if I can't have her back, 

I can at least know why.

*****

Continued in part 5/10

===========================================================================

From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 5/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:10:36 -0700

After All These Years 5/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

Scully: 

Dinner was, to say the least, uncomfortable.  Joe, of course, had no clue 

about my relationship with Mulder.  All he had known about was a mystery 

man, named Fox, who I had never associated with a last name, whom I had 

split up with shortly before I left Washington.   He knew that it was a 

painful split.  He knew that I didn't like to discuss it.  And so we 

never did.  

At the dinner table, Joe tried to engage Mulder in pleasant conversation 

about the Bureau.  I could feel Mulder's eyes on me, burning into me, the 

entire time.  I was so angry that he had somehow found me, and yet I was 

so relieved at the same time.  All these years I had denied my feelings 

for Mulder, and now I had no choice but to face them.  I had to face him. 

 He was, after all, sitting across from me at my dinner table.

"So, what where you doing in the area?  A case?" Joe was asking.

"Yes, a possible serial murder in New York City," Mulder answered.  "The 

head of the VCS, I mean, the Violent Crimes Section," he clarified for 

Joe's benefit, "sent me up there."

"VCS?" I asked, surprised. 

"Yes, I transferred," Mulder informed me.  "The X-Files were closed down. 

 Permanently."

I tried to hide the terrible sadness that washed over me.  They had meant 

so much to him.  I wanted so badly to ask about his sister, but I knew 

that would have to wait until we were alone.  Alone.  I was both dreading 

and anticipating the inevitable.

"The X-Files," Joe mused.  "I remember Dana telling me about them.  That 

was the division you two worked in, right?"  Mulder nodded.  "That 

sounded so interesting.  And yet dangerous.  Dana has told me some 

stories that have really sounded as if the two of you were in some 

serious danger."

"Mommy, will you tell me?" Sam asked from her side of the table.  

"Not until you're 18," I reminded her.  

"But I don't want to wait that long," she whined.  I gave her my best 

Mommy-is-right look and she calmed.   "But I guess I will have to."

"The X-Files were dangerous," Mulder said, in response to Joe's last 

comment.  "Scully and I had some close calls."

So is the water you're treading in, I thought, but didn't say anything.

"Dana told me about a man who used to eat human livers." Joe looked to 

Mulder.  "I almost didn't think she was telling me the truth."

"Yuck, I hate livers," Sam interjected.

Mulder nodded.  "It's true."  He looked at me.  I knew exactly what he 

was thinking.  

<If there's an iced tea in that bag, Scully, it could be love.>

And it had taken us almost three years from then to realize it, I 

thought.

"Well," Joe sighed, "you two obviously have a lot to catch up on.  Why 

don't I get this one," he motioned to Sam, "into a bath and into bed, and 

you two can chat."

Not alone, I thought.  "No, Joe, I can take Sam," I quickly interjected, 

but Joe wouldn't hear of it.  

"Honey, you two haven't seen each other in years.  You obviously have a 

lot to talk about."  Mulder shot me a look that showed that he agreed.  

"I'll take Sam up and then I'll come back and do the dishes.  Why don't 

you two head out back, that way you can have some privacy.  I certainly 

don't want to hear about any more liver eaters."  Joe seemed slightly 

perturbed.

"Daddy!" Sam cried, her face puckering.  "You know I hate livers!"

"I know, Sam," he said, coming to her chair and picking her up, lifting 

her in the air and swooping her over his head.

"Joe," I cautioned him.  He knew I hated it when he did this.  

"Daddy, I want to see the stars.  Can we go up in the attic and look at 

them through the window like Mommy shows me?"

"After your bath, sweetie."  He put Sam back down on the floor.  "Mulder, 

I'll see you in the morning.  Dana," Joe said, coming to my side and 

leaning in to kiss me, a quick, cold peck on the lips, "I'll see you 

later."  I returned the kiss with as much emotion as I could muster.  

Joe and Sam went upstairs, leaving Mulder and I alone in the room, across 

the table from each other.  "Out back?" he asked.  "Isn't it a little 

cold for that?"

"We have a sun room.  Fully protected from the elements," I said, showing 

him the way and shutting the door behind him.  I didn't want Joe to hear 

what we would be discussing.  Mulder took the couch and I took the chair.

There was silence.  A good three or four minutes of uncomfortable 

silence.

"You have a wonderful house," Mulder finally said.

"Thank you."

"Did you do the decorating?"

OK, I thought, a safe topic.  "I came up with most of the ideas."

"I thought so.  In a lot of ways, it reminds me of your old apartment."

"I know.  I did that on purpose."  To make sure I never forgot the first 

place we made love.  To make sure I never forgot the happiest time in my 

life, I thought, but I didn't say it.  Silence again, this one shorter.

"You didn't wait long, did you?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold.

"What are you talking about?"

"How old is your daughter?  Three and a half? You must have gotten 

pregnant right away.  How long did you wait after leaving me before you 

and Joe got together?" he asked.  

She's four, I thought, but didn't answer.

"Did you just fall in love with him on sight the minute you moved here?  

And then what, you married him and got pregnant?  Or did you get pregnant 

before you got married?  Did he feel like he had to marry you?"

"That's enough, Mulder," I snapped.

"No, Scully, I don't think it's even close to being enough.  You want to 

tell my why you left me like that?  Left me with no warning?  Do you know 

what it did to me, Scully?"

"Probably the same thing it did to me," I answered.  "It killed me 

inside."

"Yeah, it may have, but you made your own bed on that one.  You were the 

one who left," he retorted.

I could feel him closing in.  I always knew Mulder was a great 

investigator, always trying to get to the truth.  And he was getting 

close.  I was getting nervous.

"And your daughter.  Samantha.  That was a nice touch, naming her after 

my sister.  Did you ever think I would meet her?"  He sounded so bitterly 

angry that it scared me.

Oh, God, I thought.  The phone rang and I jumped for it, desperate to put 

an end to the interrogation.  "Hello?"

"Dana, it's Mom.  I think I forgot my pearl earrings upstairs.  I figured 

you'd hold on to them for me until the next time I see you.  But I didn't 

want to call until after dinner so I wouldn't disturb you."

"Mom, thanks, I appreciate it."  Mulder got up from the couch and came to 

stand next to me, close to me.  So close that I could hear him breathing 

in my other ear.  It was terrifying and yet incredibly arousing at the 

same time. I knew I couldn't step away.  I prayed that he couldn't hear 

what she was saying, what I knew she was going to say after I told her 

that he was here. "Mom, Mulder's here," I told her.  "I really can't talk 

right now."

I heard her gasp softly.  "Oh, God.  Did you tell him, Dana?"

"No, Mom, not yet.  Mom, I'll have to call you later."

"Dana, sweetheart, you should tell him--"

"Mom, I'll call you back.  I promise."

I hung up the phone.

I turned and was right in front of him.  Practically in his arms.  

"Mulder," I said softly, closing my eyes, feeling tears burning under the 

lids.  "Please, don't do this."

"Do you know how much I missed you?" he asked, his voice just as low.  

"Do you know what it did to me to be without you?"

He touched my face tenderly.  I opened my eyes.  "Mulder, Joe is 

upstairs.  I'm married.  Mulder--"

"I never stopped loving you, Scully.  Never."

I took a deep breath.  I haven't, either, I wanted to say, but I couldn't 

let him know that.  Couldn't tell him.  He leaned down and kissed me 

lightly.  Inwardly I fought him for only a second.  Then I kissed him 

back.  The feeling of his lips again...it was like nothing that I had 

ever felt with Joe.  There was passion there, passion I hadn't felt in 

years.  I pulled away.  Joe.  I was married.  Joe was upstairs.  I was 

downstairs, kissing Mulder.  All the years that had gone by...all the 

secrets I had kept.  "I can't do this," I murmured, my voice wavering.

"Scully, I love you.  I don't know if you still love me--" his eyes were 

moist with tears.  "I've waited so long--"

"Mulder, Samantha is not Joe's natural child," I blurted out.  

"What?" He stared at me.  

"She was conceived in May of 1996.  She was born February 8, 1997.  My 

mother was here celebrating Sam's fourth birthday last week."  His face 

was frozen in shock as the reality was beginning to dawn on him.  I could 

feel a strange release coming over me.  I had held the truth back from 

him for so long that it actually felt good to let it out.  I knew that 

the repercussions would come later.  Mulder was not a man who appreciated 

or enjoyed being deceived, and I knew that I would suffer for having lied 

to him for so long.

"She's..." he tried to say, but the words would not come.

"Your daughter," I finished for him.

He backed away from me and sat back down on the couch.  "My daughter?"

"If you look at her eyes, Mulder...she has your eyes."

Mulder shook his head, still in a state of disbelief.  "You were pregnant 

with my child?  When you left town?"

I nodded.  "I found out the day before we last saw each other.  When you 

said you didn't want anything more permanent..." I could see the 

conversation happening again in my head as if it were yesterday.  "I 

thought you didn't want a family.  I thought you didn't want a child."

"Scully, I was scared...scared of being with someone...you knew that.  

You knew why."

"Mulder, I was scared, too."

"So you left?  So you didn't tell me?  So you packed up and left?"  He 

was trying to piece together what had happened.

"I have a cousin who lives here.  I decided to come out here and I met 

Joe.  He was a family friend for years.  His father knew my father.  I 

explained to him the situation I was in..."  I remembered this all too 

vividly as well.  I had felt like a teenager on a talk show, dissolving 

in tears in front of Joe, not wanting to reveal too much about myself or 

how I had gotten pregnant.  Only that I was scared.  Miserable.  

Miserable without Mulder.  "He's a good man.  He offered to marry me.  

Help me raise the baby."

"So it's a marriage of convenience?" Mulder asked, hopeful.

"Joe has grown to love me.  And I have grown to love him.  As a friend.  

As a companion."  How could I explain the devotion and love I felt for 

the man who had respected me, been faithful to me and helped me raise 

Samantha?  I had grown to love him.  He had helped me when I needed it.  

He knew that I still loved the enigmatic Fox, the man who had fathered my 

child, but he still accepted and loved me and he loved Sam as if she was 

his own child.

"It's a platonic relationship?"  Mulder asked, again, hopeful.

"Not exactly."  My answer was hesitant.  I was afraid to let Mulder know 

too much.  Since he had arrived here, he had been so angry...angry with 

me.  I didn't know how much he could take.

"You sleep with him.  He's your husband."  Mulder was indignant.  "Of 

course it's not platonic.  What was I thinking?  You obviously love him."

"Yes, Mulder, I do love him, but not..." I tried desperately to find the 

right words.  "Not the way I loved you."  I stopped, realizing I had used 

the past tense.  All the years of convincing myself I didn't care anymore 

about him.  All the times I had told myself that he had likely moved on 

and forgotten about me.  All the times that I had told myself that I 

didn't love him anymore.  All the times I knew it was a lie.  "The way I 

still love you, Mulder."

He didn't respond to that one.  I was still standing up, and I was so 

exhausted from these revelations that I felt if I didn't sit down soon I 

was going to collapse.  Mulder stood from the couch at that moment and 

came over to face me.  "You let another man raise my child.  You never 

even told me you were pregnant."  He was trying to confirm it to himself. 

 I nodded weakly.  "Does he know?  Does he know who the father is?"

"No," I answered.  "Joe knows about Mulder.  The Mulder I worked with at 

the FBI.  He also knows about another man.  Fox.  Fox was the man I was 

in love with, the man I was involved with...the man who is Samantha's 

true father.  He doesn't know that Fox and Mulder are the same person."

"What did you tell him about me?" Mulder asked.  His tone was not angry 

or gentle.  I couldn't tell what he was trying to determine.  "What did 

you tell him about Fox?"

"I told Joe that I was very much in love with him.  That when I became 

pregnant that I got scared, and tried to find out if Fox...you...wanted a 

family.  I decided that you didn't.  So I left town.  I told him that we 

were unable to work out our differences."

"Does he know that you never told me that you were pregnant?"

"No."

"Why didn't you tell me, Scully?  Why?  I would have done anything to 

make our relationship work.  I thought it *was* working."  Mulder's voice 

was rising.  It was obvious that he was angry now.  

"Mulder, please," I tried to caution him.  I wasn't sure how much Joe 

could hear from upstairs.

"Please what, Scully?  Please be quiet so Joe doesn't find out?  You've 

lied to both of us, Scully.  And I don't even know if all of this is, 

what you're telling me now, is the truth."

Tears were pricking my eyes now, more strongly than before.  I was 

helpless to keep them from falling anymore.  "It is the truth, Mulder.  

This is the truth."

"So now you just want us to pick up where we left off?" he asked, 

ignoring my tears.

"You came here, Mulder.  I didn't come to find you," I reminded him.

"But you told me willingly about Samantha."

"I didn't want to lie to you anymore.  Mulder, I love you.  I can't stand 

here with you and not tell you the truth."

"And what good does it do any of us now, Scully?  You're married to Joe."

I sat down in the chair and sobbed.  I didn't know how it had gotten so 

complicated.  All I knew was that I had done what I thought was best at 

the time.  I had never thought I would see Mulder again.  I had one 

picture - four actually, of him and I taken at one of those two minute 

photo booths in a bar just after we had gotten involved.  Pictures of us, 

blissfully happy.  I carried those pictures with me in my wallet every 

day since.  And I had Samantha.  Every time I looked at her, I could see 

Mulder in her eyes.  

And I had fucked everything up.  I had never expected it all to come back 

and blow up in my face.

I stopped crying long enough to look up.  Mulder was gone.  He had left 

the room.  I heard him in the front hallway.  

"Mr. Mulder?" I heard Samantha ask.  "Why do you call my mommy Scully?"

If he answered her, I didn't hear it.  The next thing I heard was Mulder 

starting his car in the driveway and hearing the gravel under his tires 

as he drove off into the night.

*****

Continued in part 6/10

===========================================================================

From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 6/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:11:36 -0700

After All These Years 6/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

Mulder: 

In the car, the first thing I did was call the airlines.  I booked a one 

way ticket back to DC.

I thought about little Samantha as I drove back into New York City.  The 

only flight I could get that late was at LaGuardia and so I had to make 

the hour drive.  

My daughter.  I was stunned. I knew the one person who could verify if 

all of this was true.  I had to find out.

So much had happened in the last 10 hours that I was reeling.  Samantha 

was my daughter?  Scully had kept it from me...and the knowledge that she 

would have continued to keep it from me if I hadn't shown up at her house 

upset me more.

*If* she's my daughter.

I didn't know if I could believe Scully.  Of course, I knew I could.  But 

at the same time, I was scared.  Scared to realize that that small girl 

was my flesh and blood.  That she had been raised by another man.  That 

Scully had just forgotten about me and moved right along with her life, 

pretending that I had never existed.  Letting Sam grow up, never knowing 

who her real father was.  Scully didn't give a shit how I felt, 

obviously, or she would have told me.

Well, that wasn't quite fair, I reminded myself.  She was crying when you 

left.  Crying.  How many times have you seen her cry like that?

I saw that image the entire flight back to DC.  Scully, her shoulders 

hunched over, her body wracked with sobs.  As I so thoughtfully and 

sensitively walked out of the room.  I could have hit myself for that, 

knowing how much it must have hurt her.

Well, I thought, she deserved it.  She walked out on me.  

But she doesn't deserve it, a small part of me nagged.

As I got off the plane, I was struck by another image.  It was more of a 

sensory memory.  Standing in the sunroom of Scully's Greenwich home, 

kissing her.  Her lips on mine, for the first time in years.  Feeling her 

respond to me.  Feeling how good it felt to hold her again, to kiss her. 

 It was such a powerful image that I trembled.

*****

Margaret Scully: 

When the doorbell rang, it was already well past one o'clock.  I was 

sitting up reading, but unable to concentrate.  I was hoping that Dana 

was going to call me back and tell me what had happened.  I couldn't 

believe that Fox had somehow found his way back to her.

I was surprised and yet not surprised to see him on my doorstep again.  

"Fox," I murmured against the cold night air.  "Please, come in."

"I know it's late, Mrs. Scully," he apologized.  

"It's all right.  I was awake."  I looked him over.  He looked so much 

older than I had expected him to look.  I reminded myself that it had 

been five years since I had seen him last.  Five long years.

"Mrs. Scully," he began, "I have to know.  Was she pregnant before she 

left?"

"What did Dana tell you?" I asked, unsure of how much to reveal to him.

"Everything."  The look in his eyes told me it was true.  "Is Sam my 

child?"

"Yes," I sighed.  "Fox, I begged her to tell you.  I tried."  His 

shoulders sagged at the confirmation.  "I'm sorry she waited so long."

I wanted to ask him how he found her, but he had more questions.  "Does 

Samantha know I'm her father?"

"No," I answered.  "She thinks Joe is.  Dana thought it would be best 

that way, since Joe raised her."

"But *I'm* her father," Mulder protested.

"I know that, Fox.  I know."

The phone rang.  I knew before I answered it that it was Dana.

"Mom, I told him.  Everything."  She was crying.  "He left."

"Dana, he's here," I told her, despite Fox's gestures to the contrary as 

soon as I spoke her name.  "He's here now.  We're talking."

"Mom, I don't know what to do.  Joe is furious with me.  He has no idea 

why I was treating Mulder so coldly.  I have to tell him the truth."

"Dana, honey, maybe I should come back up there for a few days."

"No, mom, no.  I need to do this myself."  Fox was eyeing me warily.  I 

knew that he wanted to know what was being said on the other end of the 

phone.  I heard Dana sniffle.  "Mom, can you please tell Mulder...tell 

him I'm sorry?"

"Hold on," I said, knowing what I had to do, and offered the phone to 

Fox.  "She wants to talk to you."  He stood there, unmoving.  "Fox, 

please, talk to her."

*****

Mulder: 

I took the phone, unsure as to what she had to say.  Unsure if I wanted 

to hear it.  "Scully?"

"Mulder..." she said, "I'm going to tell Joe the truth.  I'm going to 

tell him now."

"That's a good start."  I tried to keep my tone as neutral as possible.

"Mulder, please...I'm so sorry.  I never should have kept all of this 

from you.  I never should have left."

"Damn right you shouldn't have."  She breathed in deeply when I said 

that.  I was furious.  She had no idea what I had been through for the 

last five years.  It had been agony without her.  But then I softened.  

As angry as I was, I still loved her.  "Scully--"

"Mm-hmm?" she responded, her tears muffling her voice.

"I'm coming back there.  I need to see you."

"Mulder, please, I need to talk to Joe first.  Please."

"I'll come back tomorrow."

There was a long pause.  "OK," she finally said.

"I'll see you then."

I hung up the phone.  Breathed in and out deeply.  Mrs. Scully came and 

put her hand on my shoulder.  "She needs another chance, Fox.  She still 

loves you, you know."  

"Do you mind if I use your phone to call the airline?"

"Go ahead.  And Fox?"  I turned around.  "Why don't you stay here 

tonight?  I have a guest room."

I was going to politely decline, but as soon as I saw Mrs. Scully's face, 

I knew that I should stay.  "All right, I will.  Thank you."

"Top of the stairs, third door on the right."

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully."

I picked up the phone and dialed the airline.

*****

Continued in part 7/10

===========================================================================

From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 7/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:12:11 -0700

After All These Years 7/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

*****

Scully: 

I hung up with my mother and went back upstairs, back to our bedroom.  

Joe was sitting up in bed, the lights still on.  It was obvious that he 

was waiting for me.  The tension in my stomach grew.  I knew that I 

couldn't keep the truth from him any more than I had kept it from Mulder. 

"Dana, I want to know what is going on.  You were cold to Mulder.  I 

thought you two were such close friends?" he said, as I got into bed.

"We were," I answered.

"Were you crying just now?" he asked, turning my face to his so he could 

look at me directly.

"Yes," I answered.  "But I'm OK."

"Did talking to your mother help at all?"

"Yes."  I didn't know how to speak.  My words were coming out in 

monosyllables.  I hated what this was going to do to Joe.  It would tear 

him apart.

"Things just seemed so strained between you and Mulder tonight.  Is there 

something else going on I should know about?"

The dread rose up in me.  I turned in bed to look at Joe.  "It's about 

Fox."  I said, trying to begin somewhere that made some sense.

"Sweetheart, you haven't mentioned his name in years."

"I know, Joe, but...you must know I still have feelings for him."

Joe nodded his head.  "I was hoping that in time you would come to love 

me more fully, and than Fox would be just a distant memory."  I swallowed 

hard.  This was going to be so painful for him to hear.  "But what does 

this have to do with Mulder?" he asked.  Before I could answer, his brow 

wrinkled in deep thought.  "Wait a minute.  Mulder.  The man with no 

first name.  Fox...Mulder?" he guessed, and I nodded.

Joe didn't speak.  He got out of bed and got dressed swiftly.  "Where are 

you going?"

"Out," he answered coldly.  "You lied to me, Dana."

Wait, I thought.  There had to be a chance for me to tell him what had 

happened.  "Joe, please, I can explain this," I said, desperate to stop 

him.  "Please, let me explain."

"I'm not sure I am ready to hear it."  He turned around.  "I will tell 

you one thing, Dana.  If he thinks he can walk in here and say that he 

wants you back, and that he wants Samantha, he can.  He can say whatever 

he wants.  But I will be damned if I am going to let the last five years 

of my life go down the drain."

I felt my tears beginning again.  "Joe, that's not what he wants."

"I don't even know if you've been sitting around waiting for him to come 

find you someday and take you and Sam away."

"No, no, that's not true at all.  You're a wonderful husband and father," 

I cried.

"But you're still not over him," he accused, mocking my words.  "If you 

think I am going to just step aside and say, hey, go ahead, Fox Mulder, 

take my wife, take my daughter, then you are wrong, Dana.  Dead wrong.  

And Sam *is* my daughter.  She may not be my blood, but I raised her from 

the moment she was born."

"Oh, God," I cried, "this can't be happening."   But it was, and Joe 

walked out of the room and out of the house.

*****

Mulder: 

Sometime after two thirty, as I was laying in bed, staring at the 

ceiling, unable to sleep, I heard the soft ringing of my cel phone from 

where I had stashed it in my jacket, under all my clothes.  I got up and 

answered it.  It was no likely someone from the Bureau, wondering where 

the hell I am, I thought.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me."  Scully.  How long had it been since she had said that 

when I picked up the phone?  She was obviously crying.  "Mulder..."

"Scully, what is it?"  I asked, suddenly concerned.  She sounded 

terrible.  Not just as if she was crying, but as if she was...I don't 

know, somehow dying inside.  "Scully?"

"He left.  He hates me.  You both hate me for what I've done.  And I 

deserve it."  Her voice was very far away.

"Did he do something to you, Scully?" I asked, suddenly gripped by fear. 

 If he had laid one finger on her, so help me God...

"No," she cried.  "I don't even know why I called you."

"Scully," I said very softly, "I don't hate you.  I am just trying to 

come to terms with what you told me.  What happened when you left.  How 

I've felt over the last five years has just suddenly sprung out of the 

box I've been keeping it in."  And as I said it, I knew it was true.  I 

didn't hate her.  I had realized why she was so afraid to tell me that 

she was pregnant.  Look how I had acted in the office that day.  It was 

no excuse for her not to at least talk to me, but at least I understood 

her reaction a little better.  Yes, I was angry at her.  And I was 

justified in feeling that way.  My anger, though,  had only been so 

strong because of how strong the love I felt for her was.  "I don't hate 

you," I repeated into the phone.

"I hurt you.  I hurt Joe.  I lied to both of you."

I couldn't deny that.  It was true.  "Yes, Scully, you did."

There was a long silence, punctuated only by a few sobs from her end of 

the phone.  "Do you still have the necklace?" she asked out of the blue.

"Yes," I answered, touching the cross unconsciously as I spoke.  "I still 

have it."

"I love you, Mulder," she whispered.  "I never stopped loving you.  I 

never stopping missing you.  Not one day went by that I didn't miss you."

The tenderness in her voice made me ache for her.  Ache in a way I 

thought I had forgotten, or buried so deeply that I wasn't able to feel 

it anymore.  But I still had it.  I still loved her so much.  I felt 

tears in my eyes.  What had happened?  For five years we hadn't seen each 

other, but somehow, the feelings that had grown between us over the four 

years that we had known each other had not diminished in strength or in 

magnitude.  From the sound of Scully's voice, I knew that nothing in her 

heart had changed over the last five years.  Her life had definitely 

changed.  And she had likely had to shut off her feelings, feelings for 

me, feelings about her past...I knew she was so good at shutting these 

feelings off.  For the years we had worked together before we had become 

lovers, I knew that she had a separate part of herself reserved for the 

fear, for the loneliness.  She had never shown that part of herself to 

me.  Until we had crossed the line and become lovers, I had known about 

that side of her, even witnessed tiny pieces of it, but I had never truly 

known her completely until she had let down all of the barriers and let 

me in.

"Mulder," she whispered my name, and I closed my eyes.  It was as if it 

were five years ago, and she were beside me, as if none of it had ever 

happened.  "Mulder."

I opened my eyes.  But it was five years later.  I had no concept of her 

life now, with the exception of the fact that I now knew about the web of 

deception that she had woven to protect me, to protect Joe, to protect 

our daughter.  The more I thought about it, the more I knew that it 

wasn't meant to protect any of us at all.  It was meant to protect her, 

to keep her from having to face her own fears of commitment, of loving 

someone and being afraid to lose them.  I understood suddenly why she had 

married Joe.  In a way, it was for convenience's sake.  It was to provide 

Samantha and herself a good home, love, financial and emotional support.

Samantha.  Our daughter.  I inwardly winced at the fact that I didn't 

know anything about her.  She had approached me as I was about to walk 

out of Scully's house, her auburn hair still damp from her bath.  Her 

eyes, the same eyes as mine, were shining.  "Why do you call my mommy 

Scully?" she had asked me, and I was unable to answer.  Unable to even 

look at her.  I didn't know her.  I hadn't raised her.  She was mine, and 

yet she wasn't.

"Scully," I said to her on the phone, "what are you going to do?"  Using 

the "you" very deliberately.  I couldn't get her out of this.  She had to 

do it herself.

"I don't know."  She was calming down.  Her tears had slowed.  "I don't 

know, Mulder.  I wish I could just take Sam and leave here, leave all of 

it behind, the memories, the pain of hiding everything for so long."

"And come back to DC?" I asked.

"No, just to leave.  To get away from everything.  To get away from Joe. 

 From you."  Her voice held pain, old pain.

My stomach turned.  I had just found her.  I was not about to let her 

disappear again.  Not with my daughter.  "Scully, you know you can't do 

that," I told her firmly.  "You can't just leave."

"I don't know what else to do, Mulder.  I've screwed everything up, for 

everyone.  Maybe it would be the best thing for everyone involved."

"Just like it was for the best when you left me five years ago?"  I 

closed my jaw tightly.  It had come out much harsher than I had meant for 

it to.  She didn't answer.  "Scully, I'm sorry," I said, meaning it.

"I have to go," she said suddenly.  Warning bells were going off in my 

head.  Alarm bells, ringing loudly.  Something in her voice had changed. 

 Something bad was going to happen.  She was going to...oh, no, I 

thought.  Not again.  She's going to run again.

"No, Scully, don't hang up.  Wait."  

"I love you, Mulder."

My head was spinning.  It was like an instant replay of what had happened 

five years ago.  I would never get to see her again.  Never hold her 

again.  No, I told myself.  No.

She had already hung up the phone.  "Damn!" I swore aloud.  I didn't know 

her number.  I jumped up from bed and began to throw my clothes on.  I 

was mentally trying to decide which would be faster, if I should drive to 

Connecticut or fly.  I called the airline as I dressed.  They had a 

red-eye flight leaving Dulles in 45 minutes.  It would arrive in 

Westchester at 6:45am.  The flight was just under an hour.  I could rent 

a car in New York and drive up to Greenwich in 15 minutes.  "Hold that 

seat for me," I instructed the airline reservations operator.  "I'm with 

the FBI.  I have to be on that flight."  I gave her my badge number and 

scribbled a quick note to Mrs. Scully, instructing her to get on the 

first flight to Westchester when she awoke.  Then I slipped out of the 

house and into the early morning blackness, racing to Dulles Airport as 

fast as I could.

*****

Mulder: 

As I was pulling into Scully's driveway, I noticed that her car wasn't 

there.  I peeked into the garage, praying that I would see it there.  The 

garage was empty.  I tried the door.  Locked.  "Fuck!"  I pounded the 

door.  "Scully!"

Joe's car pulled in alongside mine.  "What's going on?" he asked, getting 

out of the car.

"She's gone," I said shortly, trying to hide my concern.  "She's taken 

Sam."

"How do you know that?" he asked indignantly, unlocking the door.  He was 

obviously very angry at me.  "Dana!" he called into the house.  There was 

no reply.  I followed him inside.  "Dana!"  he called again.

I bolted up the staircase, opening the first door I saw.  Dana and Joe's 

room.  The bed was still unmade.  Feeling as if I were invading, I backed 

out of the room.  Next door.  Sam's room.

The room was, in a word, incredible.  The walls were painted a soft blue 

color, and what must have been a professional artist had painted an 

entire celestial heaven on the ceiling.  The curtains were white and 

wispy, covering the window but still allowing the morning sun to stream 

in.  It was obvious that Scully had been the mastermind behind the 

decorations.  

Sam's bed was in one corner.  The covers were pulled back.  I checked the 

drawers, trying to determine how much was missing.  I had no idea what 

clothes she had in the first place.  It was no use.

I could hear Joe still calling Scully's name from downstairs.  I went 

back down to meet him in the front hall.  "She's gone," I repeated.  "She 

took Sam.  They're gone.  We have to find them."

"We have to find them?" he echoed.  "Since when do you take such an 

interest?" he asked.  "I'll find her.  She likely just went for a drive 

with Sam.  I'm sure she's fine."

"I have a very strong interest," I told him venomously.  "Sam is my 

daughter."

"Dana is *my* wife," he replied in the same tone.  "And as far as I am 

concerned, Sam is your daughter by blood only.  I raised that little girl 

after you..."

"After I what?" I shouted at him.  "What did Dana tell you?  That I 

abandoned her when she needed me most?  I didn't even know she was 

pregnant when she left!  She left me a note, damn it!  She never even 

told me goodbye!"  He paled considerably.  Obviously one more thing he 

hadn't known about.  I lowered my voice.  "She hurt me so deeply that I 

thought I could never love anyone again.  I haven't loved anyone since.  

I haven't let anyone get close to me since."  It was a painful admission, 

particularly because I hardly knew this man.

"We have to find her," he said, nodding his head.

I calmed at the use of the word 'we'.  "Do you have any idea where she 

would have gone?  Friends in this area?  Places she liked to go?"  His 

face clouded in thought.  Then his eyes lit up.  "What?"

"Shippan.  There's a beach there that she likes to go to, to think."

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Stamford.  The next town north of here.  It's not far."

"Let's go," I said.  "I'll drive."

Joe and I made the drive in silence.  Every few minutes he would speak to 

give directions.  "Take a left here."  "Turn right."

I was lost in my thoughts.  All I could think of was Scully, and Sam, our 

daughter.  How to make all of this right again.  And without warning, I 

was drawn back to the past, to the things she and I had said and done.  

Little snippets of conversation and events free flowed through my mind.

<You're the only one I trust.>  <Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on the 

line for anyone but you.>  <Hearing her sigh as we first kissed.>  

<Seeing the look on her face the first time we made love, as we sank back 

onto the bed in her apartment, our bodies touching each other for the 

first time, with no barriers.  How her eyes shone.>  <I love you, 

Mulder.>

"Right over there.  Park over here.  We'll have to walk the rest of the 

way."  Joe interrupted me out of my reverie.  

I parked the car and we both sprinted across the grass, then across a 

small footbridge.  The sun was now fully up, and it was shining brightly 

over Long Island Sound.  It was cold enough for me to see my breath as I 

followed Joe at a brisk jog.  At the water's edge, there were rocks.  

Large rocks, for what seemed like a stretch of miles and miles.  I could 

see why Scully would like to come out here.  It was peaceful.  I scanned 

the rocks quickly.  I saw the red of her hair before I actually saw her. 

 "There she is!" I cried, pointing.  Joe and I broke into a run at the 

same time.  

"Dana!" he yelled.  I grabbed his arm.  

"Don't startle her!"  I didn't know what her emotional state would be.

Joe ignored me, pulled his arm from mine and began to run faster.  I 

struggled to keep up with him.  I saw Scully fully now, sitting on one of 

the rocks, Sam cradled under one arm, apparently asleep.  They were both 

wearing heavy coats and Sam was wrapped in a long scarf.  "Dana!" he 

yelled again.  We were about 50 feet from her.  Scully turned her head at 

the sound of Joe's voice.  She jumped, and I knew what was going to 

happen just as it actually occurred.

She scrambled to her feet, pulling Sam up with her, trying to take her in 

her arms and climb up the rocks, to run from us or to us, I don't know.  

But Sam slipped from her grasp and fell.

I heard the crack as her head hit the rocks, although I was told later 

that from the distance I was at, I couldn't have possibly heard it.  

Panic filled me as I watched her tiny body slide down the rock and into 

the water.

"Sam!" Scully screamed, terrified.  Adrenaline pumping through my veins, 

I overtook Joe and ran to the rocks, climbing over them to reach Scully 

before he did.  She clutched at my coat, her eyes wide and frozen with 

terror.  "Mulder!"  

I pulled from her and jumped into the water immediately.  I didn't know 

how deep or cold it was.  The icy blast of the water temperature hit me 

as soon as I hit the water.  All I could see was the tiny body, floating 

face down in the water.  The hood of her coat had come off.  The auburn 

hair made redder from the blood, her thick coat filling with water and 

beginning to pull her down under the surface.  I reached for her.  She 

was within arm's grasp.  I missed.  The water was just up to my chest.  I 

struggled to get closer, but the weight of my coat filling with water was 

holding me back.  

Damn it, I swore to myself.  She's just a few feet away.  I've got to get 

her!

*****

Continued in part 8/10

===========================================================================

From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 8/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:12:57 -0700

After All These Years 8/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

Scully: 

I saw Mulder reach for Sam the first time and miss.  I was frozen in 

place, unable to move or speak.  My hands were over my mouth, still in 

horror at what was happening.  Joe appeared at my side, breathing 

heavily, looking down into the water at what was going on.  In 

desperation, I looked around for something that Mulder could use to hook 

onto Sam's coat with.  I turned my head around, looking for a branch or a 

rope.  Nothing.  As I looked back into the water, the rock that Sam had 

hit as she fell passed through my peripheral vision just below me.  It 

was red with blood.  Her blood.  My precious daughter.  Oh, God.

Tears were streaming down my face.  My breath was coming out in short 

white puffs in the cold.  Joe was standing there, not moving, not 

speaking.  

My daughter, I prayed, God, please, don't take my daughter.  Please.  Not 

her.  I would do anything.  Take me, not her.  Please.  

"Damn it, Dana, what the hell's the matter with you?  How could you bring 

her here?  What the hell were you thinking?" Joe was yelling at me.  It 

was making me cry harder.  I was crying so hard that I felt pain in my 

throat, and my eyes stung from the tears.  

"Shut up!" I screamed at him.  "Just shut up!"  Ignoring him further, I 

climbed down the rocks carefully to get closer to Mulder.  I could see 

him struggling in the icy water.  I could see my daughter face down.  Oh, 

God, Mulder, I prayed, please...

He reached for her again, and caught her jacket in his hand, pulling her 

close to him.  He turned her over in the water, onto her back, checking 

her pulse, checking her breathing.  Mulder fumbled in his coat pocket and 

brought out his cel phone, throwing it to me.  I caught it.  "Call an 

ambulance!" he yelled.

"Is she all right?" I asked.  "Mulder, shouldn't you get her out of the 

water?"

"Scully, call the fucking paramedics!" he yelled back.  I dialed with 

trembling fingers.  As I was hanging up, Mulder began to tow Sam back 

towards the rocks, back to shore.  Back to safety, I prayed.  He pushed 

her towards me.  "She's unconscious," he told me.  He was shaking with 

chills from the cold water.  "We've got to get her out of the water.  

We've got to keep her warm until the paramedics get here."

I helped pull her out of the water.  She was much heavier because of the 

water weighing down her coat.  Together, Mulder and I pulled her up the 

rocks.  Joe reached down to help us get her up on the frozen grass.  I 

stripped off my coat, ignoring the cold morning air and wrapped it around 

her small body.  Her eyes were closed.  The scarf was still wrapped 

around her neck, twisted tightly there.  I was afraid it was cutting off 

her supply of oxygen and so I pulled it off of her.  "Careful of her 

head," Joe cautioned.

"She's still got a pulse and it's really fast," Mulder told both of us. 

"Her breathing is shallow."

I checked it, trying to remain as professional as possible.  I'm a 

physician, I reminded myself.  But my hands were shaking, and whether it 

was from the cold or from the fear I wasn't sure.  Likely both.

I leaned my head down and listened.  I could hear short long breaths and 

I could see her chest slowly rising and falling.  But it was not enough. 

 "She spit out a lot of water when I turned her over," Mulder said.  "I 

don't think there's any of it left in her lungs."  I lifted my head and 

pinched Sam's nose and prepared to breathe into her mouth.

"What are you doing?" Joe asked.  "She's already breathing!"

"But she's breathing too shallowly, Joe.  She needs more oxygen, 

quickly."  I could see that her skin was white, her lips tinged blue.  I 

quickly checked her nail beds.  They were still OK, but she needed more 

oxygen as quickly as I could get it to her.  I breathed five deep breaths 

into her lungs.  Her chest rose high during each one.  When I stopped, 

Mulder checked her pulse again.  

"It's better." 

I scanned the park.  Where were the fucking paramedics?  I carefully 

began to lift Sam's head to check the wound.  I realized that she hit her 

head on the corner.  The blood was still flowing from the side of her 

head.  

"Don't you think you should wait until the paramedics get here?" Joe 

asked.

"She's a doctor," Mulder snapped back at him.  "She knows what she's 

doing."

"But the paramedics are trained.  Their medical knowledge is up to date. 

 All Dana's been doing for the last three years has been working on dead 

bodies at the Medical Examiner's office for the county."

"I know what I'm doing," I practically growled at him, looking up.  

Mulder was obviously freezing.  He was kneeling beside me and Sam, still 

in his wet clothing, shivering.  His teeth were clattering loudly.  "Give 

me your coat, Joe," I demanded.

He took it off without further argument and handed it to me.  I placed a 

bulk of it against Sam's head, trying to slow the flow of blood.

"Why isn't she waking up?" Joe asked, echoing all of our concerns.  

"I don't know," I answered, my voice breaking.  "I don't know."

I could hear the sirens now.  I looked up and saw the ambulance driving 

across the grass towards us.  As soon as they got close enough, they 

stopped the ambulance and two paramedics jumped out.  "My daughter, she's 

four years old, she hit her head on the rocks," I told them.  That's 

right, Dana, keep it professional.  Stay calm.  Don't go to pieces.  "Her 

pulse is 80 and we gave her artificial respiration and her breathing has 

improved."  A quick glance at Sam told me that the air I had given her 

had helped.  Her skin color had improved.  "She has a blunt injury to her 

head.  We were trying to keep the blood flow down."

"Was she in the water?" one of the paramedics asked me.  I nodded.  

"That's good.  The coldness of the water probably helped to slow down the 

blood flow as well."  The other paramedic was radioing back to the 

hospital, advising them of the situation.  I heard the crackling 

response.

"Cochran 2, please be advised that you can bring the patient right up to 

the PICU.  We'll have a bed waiting.  Repeat, you can bypass the ER and 

bring the patient right up to the PICU.  CAT scan techs will be waiting 

for you there."

"Copy that.  ETA 10 minutes."  He turned to his partner.  "We need to get 

an IV in her and then get her right in there."

"Already getting it," the paramedic beside me told him.  I pointed out 

the upperside of Sam's right wrist. 

"She's got a good vein there," I told him.  Frightening that I knew the 

location of the 'good' veins in my daughter's body in case anything had 

happened to her.  

The other paramedic offered Mulder a blanket, which he gratefully 

accepted and wrapped around himself.  "The IV's in," the paramedic 

called.  "Let's get her in."  He loaded her onto the gurney and prepared 

to put her in the ambulance.  "Which ones of you are her parents?  You 

can ride with us."

"We are," Joe answered, and I glanced at Mulder.  The hurt was evident in 

his eyes and all over his face.  

"Why don't you ride with them and I'll ride with Mulder," I said to Joe. 

 He looked surprised but agreed.  

"We'll follow you over there," Mulder added.  

"In case you can't keep up with us, we're going to Stamford Hospital," 

the paramedic told us.  I nodded.  I knew how to get there.  Mulder and I 

headed for the car.

When we got to the car I went over to the passenger side.  "I'm 

freezing," I said quietly.  Mulder came over the my side as I was opening 

the door.

"Scully," he said, taking my arm before I could get in the car.  

I turned and practically fell into his arms, as if it were the most 

natural thing in the world to do.  I could feel his wet clothing under 

the blanket.  I could hear his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his 

chest with each breath.  I buried my face in his chest.  "Thank you, 

Mulder," I whispered, new tears in my eyes.  "Thank you for saving Sam."

"You didn't do so badly yourself," he answered back, tightening his arms 

around me, kissing the top of my head, his voice small and choked with 

emotion.  I pulled out of his arms and looked up at him.  "Why did you 

want to ride with me?"

"I wanted to thank you, and I wanted to do it without Joe watching and 

listening."

"He's not watching and listening now."

"I know."

"Why did you run?" he asked.

"Mulder," I sighed, "we have to talk about it later.  We have to get to 

the hospital."

He nodded, leaning his head down to kiss me.  My heart rate quickened.  

"Mulder," I whispered, stopping him, holding him at an arm's distance 

from me.  

"What?  You don't want me to?"

I couldn't lie to him.  Of course I wanted him to, and he knew it.  "I'm 

scared," I answered.  "Nothing has changed.  Everything's just...more 

complicated now.  Sam..."  He nodded.  He pushed my arm away, kissing me 

gently, slowly, and it ended too quickly.  It was the kind of kiss he 

used to give me that would literally take my breath away.  There was 

warmth and sensitivity and love in that kiss, so much of it that it made 

me feel loved and cared for and overwhelmed all at once.  "We need to get 

to the hospital."

"Point me in the right direction and we'll be there in no time."

*****

Mulder: 

We got to the hospital after having spoken about five words in the car.  

It took about fifteen minutes.  I could still feel her lips on mine.  I 

decided something as we pulled into the emergency parking area.  No 

matter what had happened, no matter what it took, Scully and I were going 

to be together again.  In the last day and a half I had realized that no 

matter how much she had hurt me, I was hurting more without her.  I had 

spent five years in pain, in solitude, and it wasn't worth it.  I knew 

that I couldn't have gone on much longer like I was.  

We got out of the car and went in, being directed to the PICU.  We walked 

in and Joe was in the waiting room.  "Where's Sam?" Scully asked 

immediately, going to him and leaving my side.  

"Inside.  They're doing a CAT scan on her to determine the damage done by 

the fall."  His voice was cold.  It was obvious from his tone and 

demeanor that he was blaming Scully for the accident.  It infuriated me, 

but I said nothing.  "They're listing her in critical condition," he 

added, layering on the guilt thickly.  Scully's face fell.  It was 

obvious that she was allowing her grief to let Joe pull her emotions 

exactly where he wanted them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Our daughter could die," he said angrily, emphasizing the 'our' for my 

benefit, I'm sure.  "And you're sorry, Dana?  That's all you can say?"

"It was an accident," I said to him coldly.  "It's not her fault."

"She took Sam out there.  How do you figure that it's not her fault?"

"She's my daughter, Joe."

"Damn it, I raised her.  I love her.  You don't know anything about her."

"I know that she's my daughter.  That she was conceived out of love.  The 

love Scully and I had."

Scully's face grew more frightened.  "Mulder, this isn't the time--"

"No, it may not be.  But she's mine, Scully.  She's ours.  That fact 

doesn't change."

The three of us quieted down and sat down in the uncomfortable plastic 

chairs, far from each other.  Scully spoke once.  "Why haven't they come 

out and told us anything?"  Her voice was small and frightened.

"They said they'd come out as soon as they had something to tell us," Joe 

answered.

An hour passed.

A doctor, dressed in scrubs and wearing a name tag that identified him as 

Dr. Young emerged from the PICU.  "You're Samantha Harmon's parents?" he 

asked, addressing all of us, unsure as to whether Joe or I was her 

father.  We all three nodded and the doctor took it all in stride and 

kept speaking. "I'm Dr. Young, head of the PICU.  We've got her 

stabilized, but she's had a severe trauma to the head.  She's in a deep 

coma.  We're doing a CAT scan right now to confirm it, but my exam of her 

leads me to believe that there's a good amount of pressure on her brain."

Scully's body weakened.  Both Joe and I moved towards her quickly to 

support her.  We both ended up on either side of her, holding one arm 

each.

"At this point, after the CAT scan comes back, we have a few options.  We 

can attempt surgery to release some of the pressure.  I've already called 

for a neurosurgeon to come and look at her.  The surgery is very 

dangerous.  The neurosurgeon believes that the outcome of the surgery 

would not be worth it."

"Worth what?" Joe asked.

"Worth attempting to save her life.  I don't believe that she would 

survive the surgery.  In all likelihood, I don't know at this point how 

long she can hold on.  I believe there is a lot of blood in her brain.  

Too much blood.  That, combined with the intercrainal pressure, which is 

rising, is slowly cutting off the supply of oxygen.  I know she's young, 

and healthy otherwise, but I don't think that anyone with this type of 

injury could survive.  Technically, I believe that she has been mostly 

brain dead since the blow to the head.  She's not in any pain that we can 

determine.  An initial EEG showed no active brain waves.  We are keeping 

her on life support in order to do another EEG in another 12 hours to be 

sure that there are no active brain waves.  That's standard medical 

procedure."

"She's brain dead?" Joe asked, disbelieving.  Dr. Young nodded.

"Oh, God," Scully whispered, her eyes fluttering, and she struggled to 

stay on her feet.  I put one supportive arm around her waist.  Joe didn't 

even notice.  His face was stricken with sadness.

"We're going to wait for the CAT scan results, like I said.  But if they 

come back as I am anticipating them to, there's likely not a lot of time 

left.  You can go in and see her, if you'd like."  Joe and I nodded.  It 

was all Scully could do to stay standing.  "I'm very sorry."

Dr. Young went back into the PICU.  Tears were flowing down Scully's face 

as she cried silently.  "Do you want to go in?" I asked her, and she 

nodded.  

"My baby," she managed to get out.  I was stabbed with excruciating pain. 

 My daughter.  Joe's words echoed in my head.  You don't know her at all. 

 And now, I thought, I never will.  A flash of Sam's bedroom came into my 

head.  Seeing her in the front hall of Scully's house.  At the dinner 

table.  Bounding from the car.  These were the only memories I would ever 

have of her.  

"Let's all go in," Joe said, his voice now softened.  "We should all be 

there."  I tried to smile at him gratefully.  Tears were clouding my 

vision.  He was attempting to hold back his own tears.

With Scully in the middle, the three of us entered the PICU and entered 

Sam's room.  She had been changed into a hospital gown and was under a 

large heating blanket.  There were tubes, wires, and machines everywhere. 

 A tube was in her nose, and one was taped down around her lips that went 

down her throat.  There were wires monitoring her heart rate, and more 

wires monitoring her brain waves.  Multiple IV's were in her veins, and 

the tubing wound up to the bag of clear fluids that hung above her bed.  

The heart monitor was beeping.  Her small chest rose and fell 

rhythmically from the air that was being mechanically forced into her 

lungs from the machines.  Her head was bandaged, but I could still see 

wisps of her auburn hair.  Her eyes were closed, peacefully.

As Scully took everything in, her knees buckled and Joe and I both held 

her up.  She was crying openly, as was Joe.  

I was struck with an icy sense of fear and panic.  All I could recall in 

my mind was walking into the ICU and seeing Scully, just like this.  It 

was terrifying then, and it was even more so now, seeing Sam in the same 

state.  It numbed my mind and body to the point where I couldn't feel 

myself holding Scully up.

Tears began to flow down my cheeks for this child, this child who was 

mine, mine and Scully's, who was already as good as dead.  They were 

tears for Sam, and they were the tears that I had been unable to shed at 

Scully's bedside all those years ago.  

*****

Mrs. Scully: 

When I finally found out what was going on and made it to Conecticut, I 

got a taxi to take me directly to the hospital.  I made it up to the PICU 

and was ushered in.  In Sam's small room, Dana, Fox and Joe were all 

seated around her bed.  Someone had put a blanket over Dana and she was 

asleep.  Joe nodded hello to me and I nodded back. 

I saw my granddaughter on the bed and all the apparatus she was attached 

to and swallowed hard.  Fox looked up as I entered the room and we locked 

eyes.  We both knew what the other was thinking.  It was just like seeing 

Dana on that bed all those years ago.  

Fox got up quietly from his chair and took me out into the hallway.  

"They're going to do another EEG in a few hours...but she is brain dead. 

 She's on life support."

"Oh, Fox," I said, sorrow filling my heart.  "She's so young."

He nodded.  His cheeks were still wet with tears, and his eyes were 

swollen from crying.  "Dana's not taking it very well.  The doctor gave 

her a mild sedative to help her sleep for a while.  He didn't think she 

should be sitting here for 12 hours watching all of this."

I nodded.  My poor daughter.  To have to have gone through so much, and 

now this.  I couldn't even begin to imagine how she was dealing with it. 

 "I'd like to stay, Fox," I told him, my throat tight.  

"I've already got a chair waiting for you," he said, as if he had known I 

would want to be in the room.

"Thank you."

*****

Continued in part 9/10

===========================================================================

From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 9/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:13:40 -0700

After All These Years 9/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

Scully:

When I woke up, I struggled to remember where I was.  I was groggy from 

the sedative, and I rubbed my eyes.  The blanket that had been covering 

me slipped to the floor.  Joe leaned over and picked it up and recovered 

me.  I smiled at him gratefully.  I looked at Sam.  She looked exactly 

the same.  Peaceful.  As if she was in no pain.

Mulder was seated to my right, and next to him was my mother.  I got up 

from the chair and she came to me, hugging me tightly.  "I'm so glad 

you're here," I whispered into her neck.  She hugged me back tightly.

"I know, Dana, I know."

I released her and went back to my chair, sitting down, feeling 

surprisingly calm.  "I had a dream," I told everyone in the room quietly, 

"that I was with Sam at the park.  She was on the swings, and I was 

pushing her.  'Higher, Mommy,' she said, and I pushed her harder, but not 

too hard.  I didn't want her to fall off and get hurt, but she seemed to 

have a good grip on the chains that supported the swing.  'Please, Mommy, 

push me a little higher.  I want to get as close to heaven as I can.'  I 

did push her higher, and harder, and I could hear her laughing, she was 

so happy..."  I stopped for a seconds, brushing a few tears from my 

cheeks.  "And I kept pushing her.  'Push me all the way to heaven, 

Mommy,' she said, and I gave her one great big push and Sam and the swing 

and all of it disappeared.  The sky was an incredibly perfect shade of 

blue, and I looked up.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky.  She was gone, 

and yet I could still hear her giggling, and she still sounded so happy. 

 'I'm in heaven, Mommy, and you'd never guess, but it's so great!' she 

said."

I looked around the room.  Mulder had his head bowed and was crying.  Joe 

sniffled and my mother wiped her eyes.

The doctor came in.  "Hi, everyone," he said softly, in a soothing but 

not placating tone.  "We're going to turn the tracing back on for the EEG 

now and see what happens."

We all stood up and formed a semi-circle at the foot of Sam's bed.  Joe 

on one side of me, Mulder on the other, and my mother next to Mulder.  

Joe put his arm around me.  Mulder took my hand, and my mother was 

holding his other hand.  Another doctor and a nurse came into the room, 

and the nurse was holding Sam's chart and a pen.  I knew, with a certain 

sense of sadness, what we were all about to witness.

The doctor flipped a switch on the EEG machine that Sam was already 

hooked up to.    The paper began to roll, and the needles jumped slightly 

as the machine was being turned on, but then fell to draw a straight line 

on the paper.  Everyone in the room was unnaturally silent.  Even the 

beeping of the machines seemed quieter.  We were all staring at the 

needles on the paper, waiting, hoping, even willing them to draw some 

kind of blip on the paper.  Something to show that there was electrical 

activity happening in Sam's brain.

There was nothing.  

The needles drew a long, straight line across the paper.  No electrical 

activity in the brain.

We all stood there, even the medical staff, unmoving and saying nothing, 

for a good five minutes.  

Dr. Young spoke first, clearing his throat quietly, looking to me.  

"There's no activity," he confirmed for me.  

I knew what he needed to hear from me.  I knew what I needed to do.  I 

needed to give him permission to let Sam go.  I was silent for a full 

minute before I responded.  "You can turn the machines off," I said 

quietly.  "Turn them all off."

"Samantha Melissa Harmon pronouced dead at 1737 hours, February 11, 

2001," he said for the nurse to document on the chart.  She wrote it 

down, then set the chart down.

"I know this is a difficult time for you, but are you at all interested 

in donating any of Samantha's organs?" Dr. Young asked.  

I nodded immediately.  This was something I firmly believed in, and there 

was no hesitation in my decision.  "You can donate whatever organs are 

viable for use," I told him.  

"I'll need you to sign some paperwork, Mrs. Harmon."  I nodded again.  

"We're going to leave her on life support until we know what organs are 

needed.  If you all would like a few minutes with her, we'll step 

outside."

"OK," I said.  I was feeling remarkably calm, although I knew that the 

magnitude of what was happening would hit me later.  I still had so much 

to deal with.  So much to face.  Questions to answer.

The doctors and the nurse stepped out of the room.  My mother was the 

first to say goodbye.  She went to Sam's bedside and leaned down to kiss 

her forehead lightly.  "Goodbye, my sweet angel," she said softly, then 

squeezed my arm and left the room, tears in her eyes.

Joe and Mulder looked at each other, as if they were unsure as to who 

should go next.  Joe finally stepped forward.  He touched Sam's hand, 

looked at her.  "I know you weren't my daughter by blood.  But I loved 

you as if you were.  I'm going to miss you, Sam."  His words brought 

tears to my eyes, and I tried desperately to fight them back.  He stepped 

away from her bed and looked at me.  "I'll be outside," he said.  His 

eyes were brimming with tears as well.  He left the room, leaving Mulder 

and I alone with our daughter.

"When she was born," I said quietly, but loud enough for Mulder to hear, 

"I didn't let Joe in the delivery room.  Just my mother.  As soon as she 

came out of me, as soon as the doctors told me she was healthy and that 

everything was fine, they picked her up and cleaned her off.  While they 

were doing that, my mother came over to me and wiped my forehead and 

hugged me as best as she could.  Then they brought Sam over to me and put 

her in my arms."

Mulder took my hand again.  "You don't have to tell me all of this, 

Scully."

"No, Mulder, I need to tell you.  You need to hear it."  He closed his 

eyes, acknowledging that, and then opened them again and nodded at me to 

continue.  "I looked down at her.  She was this perfect, tiny, baby, and 

she was mine, mine and yours.  She was what we had created.  And as happy 

as I was, as overjoyed as I felt, I felt incredible sadness that you 

weren't there to see her being born.  That I had blocked you from even 

knowing about her.  I almost wanted to call you and tell you everything. 

 I thought for one second that I could somehow make everything right 

again and go back to DC..."  I wiped at my eyes, remembering.  "But I 

didn't.  I couldn't.  And then, Mulder, she opened her eyes.  Sam opened 

her eyes and looked up at me and my mom.  Do you know what my mom said to 

me?"

"No," Mulder said, his voice tight. 

"She said, 'She has Fox's eyes, Dana.  Look.'  And she was right.  Sam 

had your eyes.  The exact color, the exact shape...it was almost like I 

was looking right at you."  Mulder squeezed my hand.  "And at that 

moment, Mulder, I knew that I had a part of you with me.  We were 

separated, and we might never see each other again, but I knew that I 

could always look at Sam and see a part of you."

I was crying openly now, unashamedly.  Mulder held me for a few moments 

and let me cry.  I could feel his body shaking with his own tears.  

Finally he released me and stepped towards the bed.

His face was twisted with grief, and I could see him crying.  He leaned 

over Sam and kissed her forehead, just as my mother had done.  He touched 

her hand, then ran his hand along her face tenderly.  He murmured words 

that I did not hear, words that I was not meant to hear.  Then he stepped 

back, gave me a half-smile, and left me alone with our daughter.

I sat back down in the chair at the foot of her bed.  "You were always my 

lifeline.  My touchstone."  I looked at her body, ravaged by the machines 

she was connected to that were making her heart beat and pushing air 

mechanically through her lungs.  For some reason, it struck a bad chord 

in me.  It was wrong, to see her like this.  To remember her like this.  

I didn't want to look back and remember her like this.

I got up from the chair and left the room.

*****

Mulder: 

The next three days passed in a haze.  I checked into a hotel in 

Greenwich.  I had originally gone to check into some cheap dive, but 

found that there were very few of those in the upscale Fairfield County 

area.  Scully insisted on not returning to her house.  Joe, without 

argument, had booked Scully, her mother and myself into the Greenwich 

Hyatt, a beautiful hotel.  I assumed that Joe was staying at their house. 

 I could imagine what the hotel would look like in the springtime, with 

the well manicured grounds and flowers blooming everywhere.  Against her 

mother's protests, Scully got her own room, one floor down from mine.  

Her mother was next door to her.  Scully was, for all intents and 

purposes, in isolation.  Mrs. Scully and I would eat together in the 

restaurant downstairs, without Scully.  She ordered room service. 

I had to call the Bureau and explain my absence.  I spoke only to 

Skinner, hoping and praying that he would understand. 

"Agent Mulder.  You were due back in Washington three days ago.  Where 

the hell are you?"  He was obviously not pleased.

"Sir, there's been a development," I began.  "I'm in Connecticut."

"Connecticut?  What are you doing there?"

"I'm with Scully," I replied.  Her name had not come up in conversation 

between him and I in years.  

There was silence.  "I thought you were unaware of her whereabouts, 

Mulder."  

He obviously had been keeping closer tabs on me over the years than I had 

thought.  I paused, not knowing what to reveal and what not to say.  It 

seemed somewhat inconsequential now to tell him the truth.  "Sir, it's a 

very long story.  But I'm still here to attend the funeral of Scully's 

daughter."

I heard him take a deep breath.  "You will give her my condolences," he 

said, and I could tell that he meant it with all sincerity.  

"I will."

"Agent Mulder.  There's obviously something you are not telling me."

No kidding, I thought.  "Sir, the child...she's my child as well."  I 

might as well tell him.  There was no reason not to.

More silence.  "I thought you hadn't seen Scully in years."

"I haven't, sir."  And then, without preamble, I launched into the story 

of how it happened.  How Scully and I had gotten involved, that she had 

gotten pregnant, left town, had the baby, gotten married, all of it.  I 

told him how I had happened to find her.  I gave him the abbreviated 

version.

Skinner, to his credit, never once interrupted me during my story.  When 

I got to the point of telling about Sam dying, it was all I could do not 

to start crying again.  Finally, I wrapped it up and closed my mouth, too 

exhausted to speak anymore.  "Agent Mulder," he said, clearing his throat 

and then speaking more quietly into the receiver, "you stay there as long 

as you need to.  I will handle everything here."

"I appreciate that, sir."  I really did.  My hands had been shaking as I 

had been speaking to him, assuming that he was going to tell me not to 

bother to come back.  "Sir, I know that what Scully and I did was against 

Bureau policy--"

"Agent Mulder, Scully is no longer with the Bureau.  What may or may not 

have happened between you and her is not any of the Bureau's business.  

Do you understand me?"

I was touched my his willingness to keep our privacy where it belonged - 

in private.  "Yes," I answered, somewhat shakily, "I understand."

"Call me when you get back to DC.  And Mulder, please do tell Scully that 

I am very sorry for her loss.  For your loss as well, Mulder.  I'm very 

sorry."  He sounded so sincere I couldn't even believe it.

I called Scully every evening before I went to bed to make sure she was 

all right.  "Hi, it's me," I said into the phone that night, the night 

before the funeral.  I knew that Scully had gone back to the house to get 

clothes for Sam to wear in the casket earlier that day, although I had 

not seen her.  What a grim task, I thought.  I hadn't seen her since we 

checked into the hotel.  

"Hi," she said.  She sounded exhausted.  

"How are you?"  Nice, Mulder, I thought.  She's probably doing about as 

well as you are.  She's probably a wreck.

"I'm tired."  Her voice sounded weak and very far away, much farther than 

the one floor down that she actually was.  "I picked out what she's going 

to wear."

Scully didn't use Sam's name on the phone when we spoke.  "What did you 

pick out?"

"A green dress that she wore at Christmas.  Green velvet with white lace. 

 She looked beautiful in it at Christmas."

"I'm sure," I said, my heart breaking.  I wished I could have seen her at 

Christmas.  Mrs. Scully had shown me the pictures she carried of Sam with 

her in her wallet.  One with Scully and Joe and Sam in front of the 

house.  One of Sam, obviously a professionally done photograph, wearing a 

blue and white jumpsuit, smiling into the camera.  She looked just like 

her mother in that picture.

"Mulder?" Scully asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could come down here?" Scully asked.  "To my room?  I 

want to talk to you - and not like this, not over the phone."

"I'll be right there," I answered, jumping off the bed.  "I'm on my way."

I took the stairs down one flight and knocked on Scully's door.  She 

opened it.  She was wearing jeans and an old flannel shirt, one I could 

recall her wearing on one of our cases.  It must have been a case where 

we were in the mountains, or maybe it was when we were in the Arctic.  I 

didn't remember, but the shirt rang a bell in my head.  Her hair was 

pulled back and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup.  Not like she 

needed it, anyhow.  Scully was one of those women who other women envy 

because she could wear no makeup at all and still look incredibly 

beautiful.  In fact, as I stood there in her doorway, as tired and sad as 

she looked, she looked just as stunning as I had always remembered her to 

look.  She used to pad around my apartment in her socks and one of my 

shirts, making breakfast for the two of us...

"Come in," she said, and I did.  The room was immaculate, but what had I 

expected?  Scully was always a bit of a neat freak.  On one of the beds 

was a large cardboard box.  She gestured me over to it.  "I picked up 

some photo albums and things of hers when I was at the house.  I wanted 

you to have some of them.  So you could see what she was like."

"Thank you," I said, resisting the urge to turn the box upside down and 

start looking through it, piece by piece.  "Thank you very much.  I 

appreciate that."

Scully sat down on the other bed.  I sat beside her.  "I've been trying 

to figure out what I should do now.  With my life, I mean."  I nodded.  

"I've spoken with Joe, and we've decided that the best thing to do would 

be for us to divorce."  

I tried not to let my face register the happiness that I felt.  I knew 

that the conversations must have been painful ones for her.  "What are 

you going to do?"

"I don't know," she sighed.  "My mother wants me to move back to the 

Washington area, with her, possibly."

"What about with me?" I asked, biting my tongue.  I couldn't help it.  It 

had come spilling out.

She didn't answer at first.  "You and I are a long way from being right 

with each other, Mulder."  I knew she was right about that.  But I was 

willing to go ten rounds if she was.  "I keep telling myself to run, to 

run as far as I can from you."  I was going to ask why and then caught 

myself.  All she had done for five years was run from me, both physically 

and emotionally.  It must have been routine by now for her.  "But I've 

realized something," she said.  "I can't run from you.  You always find 

me."  She gave me a hesitant smile.

I took her hand.  "Scully, I would do anything to try to work things out 

between us.  I know that we have a lot to work out.  But I want to work 

it out."

"I meant it when I said that I never stopped loving you."  

I thought suddenly of something.  One our first real date, we had rented 

a movie.  Bridges of Madison County.  Chick flick, I could almost hear 

the Lone Gunmen and the taunts they were going to hurl in my direction 

when they found out I had actually rented it.  But to my suprise, I had 

enjoyed it.  And when Scully had been dissolved in tears on my couch at 

the movie's end, I muted the television and took her in my arms.  She 

curled up as if she had always been there.  Too long, I had thought, we 

have waited too long for this.  I leaned down and whispered in her ear.  

"I love you, Scully."  My heart had been pounding with nervousness.  

"And how are you so certain about that?" she had asked, her tear stained 

face muffled in my shirt.

"Because," I had answered, shamelessly borrowing a line from the movie we 

had just watched, "a certainty like this comes along once in a lifetime."

She had lifted her head, her eyes wet.  I would always remember how her 

face looked at that moment.  She was stunning.  Luminous.  "Oh, Mulder," 

she sighed, after a moment, "you know I love you, too."

And then we had kissed for the first time.  We had both reached for each 

other at the same time, and our lips met.  Soft and careful.  We took our 

time.  We had already decided earlier in the evening that whatever 

happened, happened.  We were not going to follow Bureau policy.  We were 

going to stop denying our feelings.  We had made an agreement earlier 

that evening that we had to give it a shot, to see if we really would 

work as a couple, and not just as partners.  In our minds, we had both 

already known that it was what we wanted, Bureau and policy be damned.

And now, as we sat on this hotel bed, so many years of pain having passed 

between us, I thought of the line from the movie.  A certainty like 

this...once in a lifetime.  Scully *was* my once in a lifetime.  There 

was no one else for me.  "I love you, too."   I knew my answer was a few 

minutes delayed, but she didn't look perplexed at all.  

"I know what you were thinking about," she said.

"I doubt it."

"No, I do.  Our first kiss," she told me, surprising me.

"How did you know?" I asked, baffled.

"I don't know," she confessed.  "I guess after a while two people just 

know."

"Even after all these years?"

"During the last few days, Mulder, it's as if all these years haven't 

even happened.  I've felt as close to you now as I did before."

"I feel as if you're so far away.  You've isolated yourself from your 

mother, from me."  

"I know," she said, bowing her head.  "I'm just so..."

"Devastated," I finished for her.  She lifted her head and nodded.  "You 

knew her every day of her life.  I didn't and I feel that way, too."  I 

took one of her hands in mine, then both of them.  I put my other hand 

atop hers and squeezed them lightly.  "After the funeral I want you to 

come back to DC with me."

She nodded.  "I want to."

And so it was decided.

*****

Continued in part 10/10

===========================================================================

From: Leyla Harrison <starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 10/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:14:33 -0700

After All These Years 10/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)

Mrs. Scully: 

The funeral day dawned bright and cold.   No one even realized that it 

was February 14th.  Valentine's Day.  What a horrible day for a funeral.

There was no visitation.  Only a short service at a local church.  Sam 

looked like a little angel, wearing the green dress I had bought her for 

Christmas.  Dana sat in the front pew, Joe in the pew across from her, 

and Fox at her side.  It filled me with a small sense of relief to see 

that they had come together for this important day.

After the funeral, we all went to the cemetery for the burial.  I rode 

with Dana, Fox and Joe.  The ride over was silent.  None of us were 

crying.  We were just silent.  

At the cemetery, we all gathered around the small hole they had dug in 

the ground for the tiny coffin.  I had not seen Dana cry when they had 

closed it earlier at the church.  Her face now was stoic and brave, 

although I could tell that she was having a hard time keeping up that 

front.  After the minister spoke, Joe placed a single white rose on the 

top of the already flower-laden casket.  He went to Dana, held her for a 

moment, and then left.

Fox moved forward.  His eyes were now brimming with tears.  He laid a red 

rose on Sam's casket.  I saw his lips move but I was unsure of what he 

was saying.  He stepped back, wiped his eyes, and Dana moved forward.  

She was trying so hard to be strong.  Oh, my sweet daughter, I thought.  

It's alright not to be able to be strong. 

She placed her own red rose across the one Fox had just put on the casket 

and kissed her fingertips, then pressed them to the side of the casket 

lovingly.  It brought tears to my eyes.

She moved away, turning her back on the casket as they lowered it into 

the ground, and buried herself into the side of Fox's body.  He wrapped 

one arm around her.  I went to them and put my hand on his shoulder.  I 

had no idea what to say to either one of them.  It was obviously so 

exquisitely painful for them, in different but similar ways.  Fox took 

his free arm and pulled me into an embrace.  I hugged him back tightly.

*****

FEBRUARY 20, 2001

WASHINGTON, DC

Scully: 

Mulder and I had agreed that I would stay at his apartment, but I made 

sure that he understood that I was making no promises about anything.  He 

nodded his head.

It felt strange to be back in the DC area.

Mulder's building looked exactly the same.  We went up the elevator and 

he unlocked his apartment, still carying my suitcase.  The rest of my 

things were packed up in Greenwich, and I was going to have them shipped 

to me as soon as I knew where I was going to be living.  The boxes of 

Sam's things that I had given Mulder had already been shipped back and 

were waiting, thanks to UPS, in front of his apartment door.  "I can 

already warn you, it's a bit of mess.  It's the cleaning lady's century 

off," he told me, embarrassment touching his voice.

"I've seen it a mess before, Mulder."  

Mulder carried my suitcase in and then went back for the boxes as I got a 

look at his apartment for the first time in five years.  But I was in no 

way prepared for what I saw when we went into the apartment.  Some of the 

furniture had been moved.  There were papers strewn everywhere, on the 

floor, on the couch, on the table, on the desk.  I could see into the 

kitchen and saw the dirty dishes piled up.  Clothes also littered the 

floor.

Mulder saw my critical glance around and reddened.  "Maybe I should just 

take you to a hotel."

"No, Mulder," I said.  "Look, I'll help you clean up.  I'm sure we'll get 

it done in no time."

"I don't know, Scully.  It's been like this for a while now."

My eyes filled with tears as I realized that he meant that he had been 

living like this since I left.  Five years ago.  Oh, Mulder, I thought.  

What did I do to you?  I managed to push my tears away before he noticed. 

 "It's OK.  We'll work on it."

And work we did.  For the next ten hours Mulder sorted and filed his 

papers while I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom.  I dusted, he 

vaccuumed.  I borrowed his car and bought groceries and filled his 

kitchen with food, the likes of which he had probably not even seen 

before I left.  Mulder never was one for eating in.

By the time we were done it was well past one in the morning, and we both 

flopped down on the couch, exhausted.  The apartment looked almost as if 

it had the last time I had seen it.  "I'm wasted," he said, looking at 

me.

"Me too.  Are you hungry?  I could make you something to eat."

"No, that spaghetti we had around six filled me up.  I just want to get 

some sleep."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.  Sleep.  The last time I had 

been here, we had slept together, in the bed I had always used to think 

Mulder didn't have.  We mostly stayed at my place when we had been 

involved.  But I could remember with clarity the last time I had slept 

here.  I had likely already been pregnant with Sam, although I didn't 

know it yet.  We had spent the majority of the night awake, talking, then 

making love, then talking again, then making love again.  By the time we 

dozed off it was almost four in the morning.  I looked over at Mulder.  

He was obviously thinking the same thing I was.  "Mulder..."

"Look, you can take the bed.  I'll sleep out here on the couch.  I don't 

think I've used that bed in years and I don't think I could get used to 

it now," he said.  I nodded.  I took my suitcase and carried it into the 

bedroom.  Mulder followed me.  "If you need anything--"

"I know where you'll be," I finished, and he nodded and left me alone in 

the bedroom.  I contemplated shutting the door behind him, and decided 

against it.  I slipped into the bathroom to change into a white cotton 

nightgown with thin straps.  The gown came down just below my knees.  I 

was exhausted from the cleaning.  I crawled into bed, under the cool 

sheets, and pulled the blanket up to my neck. I was asleep within 

minutes.

*****

Mulder: 

I laid out on the couch for about an hour after I heard the rustling from 

the bedroom stop, unable to sleep, unable to close my eyes.  There she 

was, in my room, in the room we had made love in five years ago, in the 

very bed.  And there I was in the living room, on the couch.   I finally 

got up and walked softly into the bedroom.

Scully was on her side, curled up under the blanket, her eyes closed, her 

breathing slow and regular.  The blanket came up to her chest.  I could 

see white straps on her creamy shoulders.  Her hair was splayed out on 

the pillow like a fan.  I came close to her, not wanting to wake her, but 

needing to touch her.

I stroked her forehead gently.  "I love you," I whispered.

She stirred in bed, then opened her eyes in the darkness of the room.  

The only light came from the window, from where the open blinds spilled 

in light from the streetlamp outside.  

*****

Scully: 

I was dreaming, a senseless flowing dream about Sam.  She was running, 

somewhere, I wasn't sure where, and calling out to me...

I felt a touch, light as a feather on my forehead, and the dream slipped 

from my unconscious, and I moved back into awakeness.  I opened my eyes 

and Mulder was standing over me.

*****

"Hi," Mulder whispered softly.  "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's OK," Scully whispered back.  Mulder stood there in silence for a 

few moments.  She knew what he wanted, and she knew that she wanted it as 

well.  "Do you want to...climb in?" she asked finally.  Nice, she 

thought.  Climb in?  That's not what I meant to say.

But Mulder nodded gratefully and crawled under the covers with her.  Her 

body naturally curved into his as it did years ago, as if no time had 

passed.  He wrapped his arm around her so that he was holding her fully, 

even though he could only see her back and the side of her face.  

"Scully..." he whispered,  "Dana?"

"Mmm?"  Her voice was thick with sleepiness.

"Is it too late for us to start again?"

Scully turned in his embrace so that she could face him.  After all this 

time, there they were again, forehead to forehead, face to face.  "No," 

she whispered.  "I'd like to."

"Me too."

And then they kissed each other.  Tentative at first.  Lips touching, 

coming together softly, gently.  Mulder ran his hand down Scully's back. 

 She sighed, whispered his name, kissed him more passionately.  He 

pressed his body close to hers, feeling her body arch in response.  She 

sighed again, her lips parting slightly to let him in.  Mulder ran his 

hand over the soft nightgown she was wearing, feeling the warmth of her 

shoulders that were uncovered, feeling her legs wrap around his.  He 

closed his eyes.  It was a bliss that he thought he never would have felt 

again.  After everything, this was where they both wanted to be.  Needed 

to be.  Together.

They would always carry with them the memories of what had happened.  And 

they were not the same people as they were when they had fallen in love 

with each other so many years ago.  They were older now, and wiser.

But they were together.  After all the years that had gone by, they both 

knew, with the certainty that comes along once in a lifetime, that 

together was where they needed to be.

Forever.

END

Oh, boy, did anyone actually read through to the end?  If you're still 

there, please drop me a line and let me know what you thought....thanks!