CATEGORY: MSR, Angst

RATING: R SPOILERS: Series Finale, post-ep

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and its characters are the property of 1013 Productions and Twentieth Century Fox and its subsidiaries, and are used without permission.

SUMMARY: Scully struggles with her choice; Mulder gives her another one.

TO THE READER: This is very different from the type of story I usually write, so your feedback is doubly appreciated on this one. I was working on something nice and fun, but I couldn't get the finale off my mind ... just had to write it out of my system.... My sincere thanks to everyone who has e-mailed me with comments and suggestions.

It is their second night together on the edge of nowhere.

They drove for three days, or a little more, driving endlessly, it seems to Scully. After Roswell, Mulder drives east, toward Texas. She doesn't even bother to ask where they're going, or why, not right away at least.

A while later he turns north.

"Canada," Mulder says, glancing at her. "We're going to Canada." He scans the horizon for several minutes before he speaks again. "There are things in Canada that I need to see."

She doesn't answer.

"It'll be easier for us to blend in there," he comments. "English-speaking..." he trails off.

There's another reason as well. Canada has a very liberal attitude toward people seeking political sanctuary; you just pull up to any border crossing and request asylum, and after about an hour of questioning, you're allowed on your way. It's easy to blend in, be anonymous, disappear. But still, she has her worries. She doesn't think that the "military hearing," that kangaroo court Mulder was subjected to had any legitimacy to it, she doesn't think that his name will be listed as a convicted felon, awaiting execution, as they cross the border, but Canada does extradite.... If they use their real names, that is. She doesn't know what Mulder has planned.

"Sanctuary," Mulder says, as if reading her mind. "If we need it, we can use it."

But after Colorado, where they stop at an ATM to get the money that Doggett and Reyes have arranged for them to have access to, Mulder heads east again. "Not a direct route, Scully," he says by way of explanation.

And so here they are, nearly in Canada. They've stopped to rest. "I need to rest, Mulder," she says. "I want to stay here ... just for a couple of days." She can't imagine a more isolated place than where they are.

Mulder nods his head.

So here they are, in a cabin on the edge of nowhere. They found this place yesterday, fell exhausted into bed and slept until the next morning. It's quiet here; they are the only people around. The rancher who owns this land has four cabins for rent; in the autumn they're booked for weeks at a time by out-of-state hunters looking to bring down game, elk and big-horn sheep; but it's summer now, so there are no people. The log cabin is neat and clean, but nothing fancy. There's no hot tub, no satellite hook-up so that you can watch a thousand movies. It is one large room: the living room area contains a slip-covered couch and two oversized chairs; there is a small bookcase with a few magazines and books; she doesn't know what they are, she hasn't checked them out yet. To the back of the cabin is a queen-sized bed, carefully made, covered with a homemade patchwork quilt; and a small bathroom. A kitchenette, everything in miniature--a small stove, refrigerator, sink; some dishes, pots and pans, cutlery; coffee pot.

"What more could anyone want--" Mulder starts to tease her, then stops.

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

Scully showers first.

The water here is strange; it smells peculiar, like iron. The rancher tells them that it's from minerals leaching from the soil into the water supply. "Make sure you use the bottled water in the kitchen for drinking," he tells her. "And coffee. It won't kill you or anything, if you do drink some, but most people don't like the taste."

But the soap is nice, she thinks, raising the homemade white bar close to her face to inhale the fresh, faintly spicy, woodsy scent.

She finishes showering and towels herself off, then slips a cotton sleepshirt over her head. She walks back into the room where Mulder is looking out the large window at the front of the cabin; the sky has darkened to a blue that is almost black, and the stars are glittering brightly overhead.

"Want to go sit outside for a little bit, Scully?" Mulder turns and asks her. "It's still nice out."

She shakes her head. "I think I'll just go to bed, Mulder."

"Okay." He watches her as she walks toward the bed.

She gets under the covers and turns on her side. She does nothing but sit in the car while Mulder drives--he's driven every mile of the way here--but it's tiring nonetheless, sitting there, hour after hour. Mulder remains looking out the window for a few moments, and then she hears him head for the bathroom.

She hears the slide of the shower curtain, listens to him turn on the water. Not many minutes pass and she hears him turn the water off. It doesn't take him long, she thinks. He leaves the light on in the bathroom, then closes the door nearly all the way, so that there is a slight blur of light around the edge of the door; and then he comes over and gets into bed with her.

The clean scent of the soap is on his skin as Mulder fits his body next to hers; he feels faintly damp, and cool, and she lies there, trying to breathe quietly and evenly. After a few moments she feels his fingers push her hair from her neck, feels the softness of his lips as he kisses her there. He touches the curve of her shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to her hip. She lies there, breathing softly, not moving; maybe he'll think she's asleep.

He doesn't, though.

Mulder strokes her hip through the soft, thin cotton of her shirt; he nuzzles her neck, his lips insistent upon her skin.

She shifts away from him. "I'm tired, Mulder," she says.

It is quiet for a few moments; she hears the sheets rustle on his side. After a few moments his lips are at her neck again, his hand sliding her sleep shirt up and over her waist.

"No." She pushes his hand off her and pulls the shirt down over her body.

It is utterly silent, and then she feels Mulder pull away from her and turn onto his back. There is more rustling, and she feels the mattress dip as he sits up on the edge of the bed. The rustle of clothes now as she hears him pull on his jeans, and then more sounds. She hears his almost silent footfalls as he crosses the room; hears the creak as he opens the door, feels the cool rush of air as he goes out into the night, the wooden door rasping against the frame as he shuts it behind him.

It's the fifth time she's told him no.

But who's counting.

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

She awakens, or thinks she does, in the deep dark of the night. She isn't even sure that she has been asleep; but she must sleep sometimes, she knows she must, because when she opens her eyes time has passed.

But she doesn't dream anymore, so it's hard to tell.

It is dark, and for a moment it is darker still, and hard to breathe, and she realizes that her shirt has been pulled over her head, and now she is lying naked on her back.

Mulder is on top of her now, his body pressing into her, his lips hot against her skin, seeking her mouth. He kisses her hard, his tongue pushing into her mouth, silencing any protest she might have made. His hands are all over her, all over her, all over her.... He cups her right breast with his hand and squeezes her possessively.

He is so much more substantial than she remembers. She feels him put his knee between her legs, feels the coarse hair on his legs brush against the soft skin of her thighs as he lies on top of her; he feels heavy, and male, and she knows what is going to happen to her.... He spreads her legs apart with his knees, takes one hand and reaches down to guide himself into her.

"I'm not ready," she says, struggling beneath him, "I'm not ready...."

He enters her, penetrates her, pushes in slowly.

Mulder lies motionless on top of her, inside her; he tangles his fingers in her hair, and she can feel the hard line of his jaw pressing against the side of her face. He inhales deeply and holds his breath, and then exhales; and then he begins to move inside her ... that slow secret slide she hasn't felt in so long.

No words this time. Very different from the way they usually make love; Mulder's words to her when he's inside her, fucking her; his words to her, his lips pressed against her ear, that litany of love laced with obscenity that alternately makes her laugh, then burn with a hot excitement for him.

She burns with it anyway ... wordlessly.

Her body is more than ready for him.

She brings her arms around him, her hands on his shoulders, damp with sweat now, then strokes his back, his muscles contracting and expanding with every thrust he makes inside her. "Mulder...." she whispers, kissing the spot she knows he likes, just below the hollow of his throat, bringing one hand up to stroke his hair, resting her hand on the back of his neck, holding him.

Mulder is breathing heavily now, and he begins thrusting into her harder, and faster; and Scully arches her body against him, presses herself into him, slides her legs higher on his body, opening herself wider, and moves with him. She's in this with him, all the way....

He raises himself slightly on one elbow, slows his thrusting, and takes his hand from her hair and strokes her face. "I need you," he gasps, looking into her eyes, "... need you, Scully."

She needs him, too, although she doesn't say it.

And then they are moving together, faster, moving toward the end of it, and Scully feels it start, that sensual heat of desire that starts between her legs, the heat that travels up her body ... her breasts, her neck, her face; she arches harder against Mulder, feels his hand upon her right breast, stroking her, hears the harsh gasping he makes as he thrusts inside her; and then her own sounds, a high-pitched moaning in her throat, longing for it, the release of her body with his, and now now now, the thrumming sound in her ears as she comes, crying out for him. She grasps his shoulders, burying her face against him, her tears mingling with his sweat as he grips her tightly, feeling his muscles tense against her hands. "God... I'm coming," he gasps,"...I 'm coming ... Scully ... I'm coming inside you...."

It's very dark, even with the light from around the edge of the bathroom door. They lie there, close together; she can't see his face in the dark, and he can't see hers. It feels familiar, and unfamiliar, lying in his arms again. "You were so worried about me forgiving you, Scully, for letting William go, for trying to find a safe place for him in this world," Mulder says quietly, through the darkness. "Maybe you can't forgive me, Scully. Maybe you can't forgive me, for leaving you alone to make a decision that you should never have had to make by yourself."

She's silent for a moment. "You've done nothing that you need to be forgiven for, Mulder, by me or anyone."

Several minutes pass. "Are you sure?" he asks.

She nods her head silently against his chest.

She can't tell him why she didn't want to make love with him; that it seems wrong, somehow, to be normal, to be ... she can't even say the word out loud....

She hasn't felt it in so long.

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

He thinks that's what it is, why she didn't want to make love with him, because she blames him for leaving her all alone with the baby, leaving her in a situation she couldn't control. Mulder thinks that she resents him for what his absence compelled her to do, send their son away for other people to raise. He thinks she was all alone, with no one to rely on.

It's not true, of course.

She knew she couldn't keep William safe, at least not the way things were, and she had decided what to do, pretty much; and then she had asked to see them. Maybe she was hoping that somehow someone had come up with a solution.

They had all come to her apartment: Skinner, the Gunmen, Agent Doggett, Monica Reyes--everyone she trusted. They had sat up late into the night, first arguing with her, then gradually, as the night wore on, coming to accept her decision. Everyone knew how impossible it was; even the Gunmen with all their sophisticated surveillance equipment hadn't been able to stop William being taken from them. She remained in control; she knew she couldn't break down, couldn't let them see that even the most barely workable solution would have caused her to change her mind. She was firm, cool and composed as she listed her reasons, as calm as if delivering a standard autopsy report.

She had cried, but not until the very end.

Everyone had left, except Skinner. He had put his arms around her, and she had leaned against him, and cried. He had tried, everyone had tried, everyone had tried to find a solution, given an opinion.

Well, not quite everyone....

Her mother.

She had taken a deep breath before opening the door to her mother's house to tell her mother of her decision. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears as she walked into the living room to tell her mother what she'd done, what would surely break her mother's heart. And her mother had cried, and Scully had cried, and her mother had tried to talk her out of it. She had offered to take the baby herself, to disappear....

"Mom, that wouldn't be a normal life for William, living on the run with his grandmother. And if something happened ... if you were found...." Scully looked into her mother's eyes. "If something happened ... how could you ever bear it...." She put her hands over her mother's trembling ones. "How could I ever bear it...."

She had broken her mother's heart. And she knew what that felt like, because now she had a mother's heart of her own to break.

But she thinks her mother understands, precisely because she *has* a mother's heart, that she understands what a mother will sacrifice for her child. She thinks her mother forgives her for what she's done.

Scully doesn't want to think what he would say.

She's fairly certain that he couldn't say anything to her that she hasn't said to herself already, but still....

Passed the buck, Starbuck.

You passed the buck. Didn't face the music. Threw in the towel.

Scully shivers.

She wishes she could forgive herself.

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

Morning light filters through the cabin's big window, waking her. It's warm during the day, but night and early morning are chilly. It's almost like the mountains, thinks Scully, but they are far, far from the mountains here; here on the vastness of the northern plains. Mulder is sitting outside the cabin on a wooden bench, watching the rising sun take the deep lavender shadows from the scoria, the red rock of the Badlands of North Dakota. They are only a couple of hundred miles from the Canadian border. She hands him a mug of steaming coffee.

They say nothing, merely sit there together, looking out at the landscape. It was odd, that you came upon this place, otherworldly, almost; canyon after canyon of harshly carved red rock after a peaceful drive on the green grass of the plains.

"The Badlands," Mulder says. "Do you know why they're called the Badlands, Scully?"

She shakes her head.

"The Native People told the white explorers that they were 'bad lands to cross.' There are no landmarks; the rock formations are so similar that it's next to impossible to find your way across them, it was easy to lose your way.... People got lost and were never found." He drinks some coffee, then sets the mug down on the ground beside him. "Badlands." He sits there staring into space, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing his hands together and resting his fingers against his lips, tapping them gently. Neither of them speak. And then he says something else, says something that she can barely hear. "Sugarland," he says quietly, meditatively.

Scully raises her eyebrows and looks at him.

"'The Sugarland Express.' An early Steven Spielberg movie. Did you ever see it, Scully?"

She shakes her head again.

"It was about this couple. They sort of live on the edge; the guy is a not-too-bright small-time crook; the girl is a not-too-bright victim of her background. But they love each other. They have a baby together; the guy is in jail and the girl is forced to put the baby in foster care, to give up the baby to a couple. But she wants the baby back, and so she helps him break out of jail and they go to get their baby back. Sugarland. That's the name of the town where the baby is. And that's what the movie's about, what happens when they go to get their baby back from Sugarland."

It's a quiet morning, Scully thinks, standing up slowly. The wind blowing through the trees, the birds singing. It's peaceful here. She shifts from one foot to the other.

"It ends ... how...." she said quietly.

Mulder looks at the ground. "Not good," he says shortly. "It ends very badly as a matter of fact." He shoots her a quick look. "But that's not to say that it would end badly for us, Scully, if we go and get him back."

She holds her breath.

He looks at her, fixing her with his gaze. "When you were taken from me, Scully ... when you were infected with the alien virus...." He glances away, then back at her. "I went to the fucking end of the earth for you, Scully.... I went to fucking Antarctica to get you back." He stands up and stares out over the shadowed land. He turns and looks back at her. "I'd go to the ends of the earth again for you. I'd do anything for you. And if you want William, then I'll get him back. If that's what you want."

Red rock, red rock, red rock, red rock, red rock.

She repeats the syllables over and over again to herself, trying to gain control of herself, to keep from crying; but it's no use, and her eyes fill with tears. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't know what I want. I don't know what the right thing to do is. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don't know now...." She turns away from him, moving out of the sunlight that has suddenly become too warm.

"Just tell me, Scully," she hears him say. "Tell me what I need to do. Because I know that I can't stand by and watch you die by inches, from loneliness, or guilt, or grief, whatever it is you're feeling." He comes up behind her and says quietly: "The Great White North or the Sugarland Express, Scully. I'll do whatever you want, whatever you need."

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

She knows where the baby is, more or less.

It was her only condition.

It was a sealed adoption, like in the old days; William's new parents knew very little except that he was a healthy baby. Sealed on their side, but not on hers.

Skinner had arranged it.

She wasn't sure how much power Skinner really had, but he had *some* left, anyway, enough to pull some strings and work out the baby's adoption for her. He listened to her requirements, then made the arrangements. She had only a few, actually, requirements; she didn't care what religion he was raised, but she wanted them to be educated; and she hoped that they would have decent table manners. Better than Mulder's, anyway.

After it's over, she looks at Skinner.

Skinner is upset, and he can't meet her eyes at first; but then he does, and answers her silent question. "In the West, Dana. Very remote. He'll be safe there."

She nods.

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

Mulder is staring out at the Badlands.

She hasn't given him an answer.

"If you can't be happy, Scully," Mulder says, "if you can't be happy without William, then we might as well all go down fighting together. Maybe that's our destiny. And his."

Scully looks at Mulder standing there in front of her, standing in the morning sun against the backdrop of the Badlands, the place where people get lost, lose their way. And she knows the truth about herself, what she would tell her father, if he were here: That she did not give up, or pass the buck, or throw in the towel. She loves William, her child she carried within her body, Mulder's son. She did what any mother does instinctively: She found a safe place for her little one. And even if that safe place isn't in her arms, or by her side, it doesn't mean she loves him any less, or that she is any less of a woman for having sent him away.

And she thinks she might be able to forgive herself, after all.

The Sugarland Express, she thinks.

She realizes that Mulder loves her, loves her more completely than even her father did. Mulder knows she did the right thing, finding a safe place for William. But he recognizes that she wants to do the wrong thing, to go and get him. Mulder, with all his integrity, is willing to do the wrong thing, for her. Mulder is willing to go and get the baby for her. Mulder loves her, even with all her flaws, even when she wants to do the wrong thing.

She matters to him, as much as his quest for the truth.

And she realizes, too, that there can be no quest, not with the baby. She can't endanger William; Mulder doesn't know what it's like, with the baby, but he will, he'll see the impossibility of it. They won't be able to continue looking for the answers; and she can't be separated from Mulder, not again. She couldn't bear it.

She thought she had braced herself for it, the pain and guilt she felt in making her decision to send William away; she acquired a new, sharp, fierce pain to accompany the dull ache of loss she felt for Mulder. For a while she wondered, truly, how she could go on. She'll never get over it. She'll never be the same again. She'll never be happy.

But she is.

Surprise.

She's happy with Mulder. In this shabby cabin on the edge of nowhere, drinking coffee and looking out at the jagged edges and sharp peaks of a landscape that could be another planet, she is happy. Making love with him. The sense memory of his body on her, and inside her. His semen seeps out of her as she stands there with him. Maybe she'll hold out her hand to him, and they'll go back inside, get into bed together, and make love.

She's happy, all alone with Mulder.

She decides to forgive herself for that, too.

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

Mulder stands and stretches, raising his arms to the sky. He turns toward her. "Where to, Scully? North, south, east, west. You tell me."

She clears her throat. "North," she says. Mulder looks at her carefully. "North. To Canada. So you can see the things you need to see."

Mulder pauses, then squints into the sun. "No Steven Spielberg?" he says, looking back at her.

"What, Mulder, you think Steven Spielberg can get us out of this?" says Scully, giving him a slow smile.

Mulder smiles, too. "Him and Bill Gates together, maybe."

She laughs, and reaches out and touches his arm, then turns to go back into the cabin to begin packing. Mulder stands and reaches out for her, stopping her.

"We'll find a way out of this, Scully. We will. And I don't know how, yet, but we'll see him again," he says quietly, looking at her.

He takes her into his arms then, and she puts her arms around his back; they stand there, in the morning sun, holding each other. Scully blinks rapidly, trying to hold back her tears, and she feels Mulder's lips pressed against her hair.

"Believe, Scully," he says, "just believe."

Thank you for reading.

pjtdjt@stellarnet.com