Title: Let's Face the Music and Dance
Author: Virtues&Vices(AKA Virtie)
E-mail: virtuesandvices@aol.com
Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/fanficcorner/
Rating: Hard R for Sexual Content
Category: XR - X-File/Romance 
Classification: MSR, Conspiracy/Alien Colinization 
Spoilers: Lot's! If you don't know about the major 
events that lead up to 'Existence', then you better 
scat.
Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name stays with it and I
get to visit!
Summery: Even if you enjoyed 'Nothing Important 
Happened Today' (which I did), forget it happened. 
This is MY Season 9 premiere, finished two weeks 
before NIHT aired.
Disclaimer: Uh, yeah. They aren't mine, I'm not making any
money from them, yada, yada, yada... The lyrics for the
songs 'Let's Face the Music and Dance' and 'Go There with
You' are used without permission. Sorry.
Dedication: Thanks need to go to five very important people:
Al, who found me the perfect title song; Meg, who found me
another song that fit wonderfully with the story;   Yoda and
KissMeMulder, who provided encouragement and the needed
corrections; and Storm, who got me hooked on fanfic in the
first place. This is for you guys! 

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

Let's Face the Music and Dance 

There may be troubles ahead
But while there's moonlight and music and love and romance
Let's face the music and dance

Before the fiddlers have fled
Before they ask us to pay the bill, and while we still have
that chance
Let's face the music and dance

Soon, we'll be without the moon
Humming a different tune - and then...
There may be teardrops to shed
But while there's moonlight and music and love and romance

Let's face the music and dance, dance
Let's face the music and dance...

*****

It was like a vision of Hell.

Or, at least, what she had always envisioned Hell would be
like. Fire and brimstone. Fear and suffering. Anger and
hate. She felt it all surround her as she stood on the
hilltop overlooking the valley below. It had once been a
beautiful valley, she thought. She could still see the
skeletal remains of trees, now burnt almost beyond
recognition. And she saw what appeared to be a pond, which
had once fed water to the valley, but now sat bubbling and
steaming up into the frigid air. She breathed in deep,
amazed at how cold the air was considering the inferno below
her. She wondered vaguely how cold it would be without the
flames.

A large ball of glowing light shot by overhead, powerful
rays from some unknown weapon  raining down on the already
battered ground. She felt more heat billow up from the
resulting explosions. What did they think they were doing?
she wondered. Wasn't the valley dead enough for them? Were
they trying to kill the Devil himself?

She heard a noise from behind her and turned. Coming up the
rocky trail she had just traversed (though she had no
recollection of having done so) was a man. He was tall and
lean, his bare arms well muscled, the rest of his body
covered in makeshift armor and weapons. His hair was almost
non-existent, having been clipped as short as possible in a
severe military cut. In the light emanating from the fire
below, it blazed red. His eyes also mirrored the flames,
their natural dark green color fighting to be seen. 

"What the hell are you doing up here?!" he called out, his
voice as cold as steel, yet tinged with fear. "Do you think
you're indestructible, or do you just not care anymore?"

"I care!" she heard herself respond. "I care more than
you'll ever know!"

"Then get the hell away from where they can see you." He
reached out and grasped her elbow, and she let him lead her
away from the destruction behind her.

She turned one last time and looked out over the valley
floor, seeing in her mind's eye how it used to look: Green,
verdant, full of life. "It used to be so beautiful," she
said quietly.

Somehow, he heard her over the wind and the roar of the
flames. "I know, Mom. I remember."

*****

Scully's eyes flew open, the visions of fire and explosions
still imprinted on her corneas, the smell of smoke and death
still fresh in her lungs. She threw the covers off herself
and sat upright, swinging her bare legs over the side of the
bed. Still breathing hard, she reached over and flipped on
the bedside lamp, then stood on shaky legs, unconsciously
tugging the hem of her nightshirt down as she stumbled over
to the crib that sat in the corner of the room.

William lay sleeping peacefully inside. Cautiously, she
reached out and touched his cheek, assuring herself his skin
was still warm. That he was still alive and real. He moved
his head at her touch, a soft moan emanating from his open
mouth, but he didn't wake. She sighed and closed her eyes,
trying to calm her racing heart.

"Scully?"

Opening her eyes, she turned to look at the man sitting in
the bed she had just vacated. His dark hair was tousled and
his lower face was shadowed with stubble. His hazel eyes
were filled with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quietly, careful not to disturb Will.
"Just a dream."

"A dream," he asked, "or *the* dream?"

Scully sighed again and moved back toward the bed. "It's
just a dream, Mulder," she whispered. "Don't make it out to
be more than that." She kneeled on her side of the bed. It
was amazing how quickly she had adjusted to a 'her' side,
especially after almost ten years of sleeping alone. "It's
not a vision, or a premonition, or the reincarnation of some
spirit that has taken over my mind and is waiting for the
perfect opportunity to take over my body and ravish you
until your heart stops beating and you can't breathe
anymore."

"Damn," he muttered, slowly sinking back against his pillow.
"What a way to go." He gave her a cheeky grin, which made
her grin in return as she slid back under the covers. She
reached out to extinguish the light before stretching out on
her back. 

She closed her eyes, but she could feel him staring at her.
With a soft groan, she turned her back on him. "Mulder, I'm
sorry I woke you. Now, go to sleep."

He didn't respond, and she still felt his gaze on her. For a
moment, she wondered if it was her imagination, and that he
had, in fact, already fallen asleep. But if there was one
thing she had learned in the many years she had worked with
this man, it was that he never gave up easily, if at all.
And that the 'feel' of his stare was as intense as his
actual gaze.

With another groan, she sat up and turned to look at him. 

He was lying on his side, leaning on his elbow, head propped
in his hand. And he was indeed staring at her. 

"Quit it," she said softly but sharply.

"Quit what?"

"Quit staring at me like that. It makes me nervous."

"Why does it make you nervous?" His lips had curved into a
soft smile.

"Because, I can never tell what you're thinking when you
look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Mulder!" she said, exasperation filling her voice. "Would
you quit with the twenty questions already? I'm tired and
I'd like to go back to sleep."

"So sleep."

"I can't with you staring at me!"

"Why not?" His voice was calm, relaxed. "You do it all the
time."

She lay silent for a while, then she looked at him. "I do
what all the time?"

"Sleep while I 'stare' at you," he said, his voice becoming
husky.

His admission that he watched her while she slept should
have unsettled her, but instead it shot an arrow of arousal
down to her groin. "Mulder..."

As quick as a jungle cat after his prey, he was upon her,
pinning her to the bed beneath them. Her struggle was
halfhearted at best, and as soon as his lips and tongue
encountered the bare skin of her throat, it ceased
altogether. "Mulder..." she said again, the tone of her
voice deeper and richer this time around.

"Don't you know I watch you when you sleep, Scully?" he
whispered into her neck. "I have for years." He was
unbuttoning her nightshirt, and Scully felt herself arch up
into him as his knuckles brushed her breasts. "Only now," he
continued. "I don't have to wonder what it would be like to
touch you. To taste you." He sucked lightly on her
collarbone. "Now, I can just do it."

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you going to ravish me?"

"Yep." He latched onto her now bared breast, suckling it
gently, careful not to bring forth the milk which she still
provided to their six-month-old son on a daily basis.

Scully let herself drift into the mindless ecstasy of her
lover's touch, knowing that, as much as he was enjoying it,
he was doing it to help her forget the dream; to help her
sleep peacefully. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes she slept
straight through until morning.

Sometimes, it returned. The same exact images she had dreamt
nearly every night for a month now. The nightmare that she
was beginning to fear was so much more than just a dream.

*****

It was time.

Now or never. Slowly, she made her way into the kitchen. She
had been thinking about this for some time now; about how
she would do it. What would be the quickest, most painless
way for both her and her child? She couldn't stand the
thought of stabbing him with a knife. Besides, she would
have to make sure she hit an artery, else he would probably
heal himself before he bled to death. Overdosing on drugs
had been another option. But, his stomach was so sensitive,
she knew he wouldn't be able to keep enough down to send him
into sleep forever. Drowning? No. Too much like that woman
in Texas, who had no earthly reason to do what she did to
her kids. Not like she did. But, her reason wasn't earthly,
either.

Opening the drawer next to the sink, she pulled out the
handgun she had dug out of the back of the closet earlier
today. Quick. Easy. Ray had taught her how to shoot before
she married him. But, like the knife, she would have to make
sure she aimed at an area that would ensure immediate death.
Then she would have to find the same place on her own body.
Her son could not live any longer. And she couldn't live
without her son. So tonight, they were leaving this world
together.

Cocking the weapon in her shaking hand, she turned and
headed for the bedroom her son slept in. Her mother was
staying with friends in Eugene tonight, so it was just her
and R.J. Silently, she moved down the hall. She quietly
pushed open the door to the bedroom. He was laying there,
still and innocent in sleep. If only he hadn't been born,
she thought. If only he had been born normal.

With a deep breath, she raised the gun, aiming it for the
little boy's head. His eyes opened. Widened. "I'm sorry,"
she whispered, though she knew she didn't need to say
anything out loud to him. "I'm sorry." 

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

*****

When Scully entered the main doors to her apartment complex,
one arm wrapped around a brown bag full of groceries, she
heard the booming bass immediately. Actually, she didn't
hear it, but instead felt the throbbing beat through the
floor. She sighed and rolled her eyes, glad it was only a
little after 4:30 in the afternoon else she would be calling
her landlord to complain. She made her way to her apartment,
slowly realizing as she drew closer that the familiar,
repetitive beat was emanating from behind *her* door.

Mouth agape, she opened it, meeting Queen's 'We Will Rock
You' face to face. With a grimace, she glanced down the hall
to insure no one was going blame her for the noise, then
walked through the door, slamming it behind her.

"Mulder!"

No answer. Of course not. He probably couldn't hear her over
the noise. At least, that was the excuse she knew he would
use. She set the bag down on the counter, a little too hard,
and put her hands on her hips, glaring at the man in the
kitchen. His back was to her, so he didn't see her. Then
again, she thought with growing amusement, he was a little
distracted.

Mulder was dancing and singing along with the song, sliding
around the linoleum floor on his socks, his hips swaying and
his head bouncing in time with the triple beat blaring from
her stereo. William, sitting in his high chair nearby, was
trying valiantly to imitate his father, but was a little off
the beat. Make that far off the beat, she thought, a grin
overtaking her frown as the red haired baby pounded the tray
in front of him a little too fast. 

Mulder, who was attempting to make dinner as he danced,
turned to face Will. "You got mud on your face!" he sang,
slightly off key. "A big disgrace!" He reached over and
tapped Will on the nose, creating a huge grin on the little
boy's face. Turning back to the counter, he wiggled his hips
again, and Scully's grin turned to a full blown smile as she
eyed his tight butt, outlined perfectly by his well-worn
jeans. Using the slick floor to his advantage, he spun
around, stopping with a shocked look on his face when he
spotted Scully.

"Oh, sh--" He glanced at Will. "Shoot!"

Biting her lower lip, Scully turned toward the stereo,
shaking her head slightly as she turned it off. Then she
turned to face her former partner and current live-in lover,
her eyebrows raised, arms folded across her chest. 

"Hi, Scully!" Mulder said with forced cheerfulness. "My,
you're home early. I thought you had a meeting."

Will had turned to look when the music had quit, and
realizing his mother was there, he began pounding the tray
in earnest, another huge grin splitting his face in two.
Scully walked toward the baby, whose arms were now stretched
in her direction. Picking him up from the chair, Scully
answered, "It was canceled. So this is what you two do when
I leave you alone all day. It's a wonder we haven't been
evicted."

Mulder braced his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing.
"Now, wait just a minute. We were just getting psyched up
for our guests tonight. Both Will and I find it relaxing
to..." He seemed to be struggling for a word or phrase to
describe the loud music and dancing.

"Lose you hearing?" Scully finished for him, her tone
serious, though she wasn't really mad. Then she replayed his
words in her mind. "What guests?"

Mulder grinned. The same kind of grin he used to give her
just before telling her of an outrageous case he had
committed himself and her to when they had both been a part
of the X-Files. "It's a good thing you got home early,
Scully. It's much easier telling you this face to face
instead of over the phone."

Scully felt dread seep into every crevice of her body. Since
Mulder had moved in after the baby's birth, her home life
had been more than interesting. Of course, for the first few
months, sleep had been rare because of Will, and arguments
had been a regular occurrence, but they had never held much
real anger. And both were so much more content than either
had imagined sharing the same abode. The same bathroom. The
same kitchen. The same bed.

When Will had turned three months old, Scully had returned
to work, but not to the X-Files. Agent Monica Reyes had been
working with Agent Doggett since Will's birth, and both
Scully and Skinner agreed that Reyes should stay on the
project; Scully wasn't too thrilled with the idea of
returning to such a dangerous vocation now that she had a
child. She had settled into motherhood easily. Now, she was
back to teaching at the Academy...and still very active with
assisting with the X-Files at Doggett's request.

Mulder, on the other hand, seemed to have no inclination to
go back to work. Any kind of work. For the last six months,
he had been completely content to be Mr. Mom, only
half-heartedly looking for work. Reyes often came to him for
advice on certain cases, which he gave without question, but
he was never excited or enthused about helping with an
X-File. His behavior worried Scully, and she would have
questioned him about it long ago if he hadn't seemed so
happy. And he was. He was undeniably happy. Only Scully's
recurring nightmare seemed to worry him; it was during the
rare moments when she talked about them that the old Mulder,
the intense, serious Mulder, returned.

Now, even though he was grinning, she noticed the strain
around his eyes and the darkness underneath their humorous
glow. "Mulder? Who's coming to dinner?"

"Your mom," he said. But before Scully could sigh in relief,
he continued. "And Bill and his family."

*****

How in the hell had he gotten himself into this mess?

Mulder asked himself this question for the seventeenth time
in the last forty minutes, the amount of time Scully's
brother had been present in their apartment. The man hadn't
even said anything degrading. In fact, on the outside, he
seemed the perfect gentleman. But Mulder had seen the
distaste and anger in the other man's eyes; eyes so similar
and yet so very different from Scully's. And he could feel
it. He didn't know whether he was happy Bill was keeping his
hatred to himself, thereby keeping the peace, or whether he
hoped the man would pick a fight so they could get it over
with.

When Maggie had called him that afternoon telling him Bill
and his family were in town, he had immediately found
himself on the defense. And yet, he was looking forward to
the challenge, as well. So, when Maggie had asked him if he
and Scully would join them for dinner at her place, the
little devil on Mulder's shoulder had requested they come to
the apartment instead. Maggie, who had been by for dinner
several times in the last few months, agreed readily.

But, even Maggie seemed different tonight. She had always
gotten along with him in the past, and since his
relationship with her daughter had surpassed the
professional, she had treated him like another son. Tonight,
however, he noticed that while she was talking and smiling
and keeping up with the conversation moving around the
table, she refused to look him in the eye. For some reason,
this unnerved him greatly.

Bill's wife Tara was an enigma as well. He had only met the
perky blonde once, at Emily's funeral more than three years
ago. She had been depressed about the child's death, and
exhausted over her own child's birth, so he knew her
behavior that day hadn't been normal. Despite her laughter
and bubbly personality this evening, he sensed an
undercurrent of tension in her whole being. It was very
subtle, but it was there. Unlike her mother-in-law, she did
meet his eyes, but she never let her gaze linger, and more
often than not, she would look at Bill with something like
guilt afterwards. It was almost as if she wanted to befriend
him, to like him, but was afraid Bill wouldn't approve.

Mulder was very tempted to look beyond what he could see
with his eyes to find out what he should expect from this
meal, but he had promised Scully long ago that he would not
take advantage of the people around him by 'stealing their
secrets'. That's what Scully called it, anyway. It was a
great way to keep Mulder and his growing talent in check.

He knew that Scully seemed to sense the strain, as well,
though she herself was very relaxed. That's my Scully, he
thought. Nothing ever got her riled without a very good
reason. 

Matthew, Bill and Tara's three-year-old son, was the only
one at the table that evening who didn't seem to be anything
other than himself. Mulder studied the boy, wondering if
Will would grow to look like this child. The cousins shared
the same hair color, the Scully red, but Matthew had
inherited his father's blue eyes. Just in the last month,
Will's eyes had darkened to a rich hazel, with more green
than brown, and flecks of gold. Scully had been overjoyed by
the change. Mulder had been as well, though he didn't tell
her so.

Mulder had made a simple meal of spaghetti, with a fresh
tossed salad and garlic bread on the side. He was a fair
chef, who had improved greatly since Scully had returned to
work and he had taken on the majority of the cooking, but he
had not wanted to attempt anything elaborate tonight. Now,
as he watched Matthew play with his pasta, he wondered if he
shouldn't have chosen something a little less messy. No one
seemed concerned that the boy preferred using his hands to
eat the noodles, covering his fingers and face with the
sauce. Mulder was glad Will had fallen asleep shortly after
the Scully family's arrival, else the boy would be learning
some unwanted mannerisms from his cousin. 

Scully and her mother handled the clean-up before dessert,
with Scully telling Mulder to relax since he had done the
cooking. Mulder felt even more uncomfortable as his
trustworthy back-up for the last eight years left him to
check on the baby just as they were getting started on the
brownies and ice cream. Conversation stilled.

Tara was the first to speak. "So, Fox," she paused, but
Mulder didn't bother correcting her. She was, after all,
family. Kind of. "Dana told me a while back you were
considering writing a book. That sounds wonderful."

Mulder felt his face heat. A book? In actuality, he had made
some wry comment to Scully several weeks ago about how if he
wrote a book on their adventures with the X-Files, no one
would buy it because they wouldn't believe any of it. When
Scully had told him they could market it as Fiction, he had
laughed. "Yeah. Then people would complain the stories were
too far fetched and silly." He had never seriously
considered putting anything about his life down on paper,
and he knew Scully knew this.

"Well, I've thought about it," he lied. "But I'm no writer."

That was Bill's cue. "You're not much of anything, as far as
I can see." The husky man looked about him. "You do keep a
clean house, though." He met Mulder's gaze with his own, the
challenge there.

Mulder just smiled. "Thanks. It'll be nicer when it actually
becomes a house."

That got Maggie's attention. "You two are thinking about
buying a house?" Mulder knew why the woman sounded so
excited. A house meant a commitment. Not quite marriage, but
close. It meant he wasn't thinking about leaving her
daughter anytime soon. How could he explain to her that he
would never willingly leave Scully? Married or not, she was
his and he was hers. Forever, as far as he was concerned.

"We've considered it, yes," Mulder responded.

"And how exactly are you going to afford a house?" Bill
asked. Mulder looked back at him. He looked formidable,
elbows on the table, hands folded in front of him, his chin
resting on them. His eyebrows were raised in question.

"My job pays well," Scully said from behind him, having
heard her brother's question while on her way back from the
bedroom. "And Mulder inherited a buttload from his mother."

Mulder was both irritated by and grateful for her
interruption. While he knew he could never live without her
back-up, some fights he really wanted to handle by himself.
"I'll be working again soon," he added, glancing up at
Scully as she lightly touched his shoulder in passing before
moving back to her own chair. He didn't miss the surprised
look on her face, but she covered it well, and he knew the
others hadn't noticed.

"Really?" Bill continued, his disbelief evident in his
voice. "Doing what?"

Copying Bill's posture, Mulder brought his elbows up to the
table, folded his hands and leaned his chin on them, giving
Bill what he hoped was a mysterious smile. "That information
is classified."

He heard Scully snort with laughter, and soon her
sister-in-law was also giggling. Maggie smiled, but her
eyes, he noticed, looked haunted.

"Bill," Scully said. "We are doing fine. Mulder isn't living
off my income, nor is he not busy. Do you know how wonderful
it is not to have to send Will to daycare?" She glanced at
her mother. "And Mom already raised four kids. She doesn't
need another." With a soft smile, she reached over and took
one of Mulder's hands in hers. "We are doing fine."

Watching Bill's impassive face, Mulder returned the squeeze
Scully gave his hand. But, despite her words, he felt guilt
and depression fill him. They were doing fine, but could
they be doing better? He knew Scully sometimes watched him
with a worried expression, and he wondered if she missed the
old Mulder. The obsessive, married-to-his-work Mulder. He
didn't. At least, not very often. He sometimes felt like he
was a bear in hibernation. Waiting, not for spring, but for
something not nearly so sweet. He needed to keep his mind
and body fit, which he did by running, weight lifting and
reading every chance he got. But, he didn't know quite what
he was waiting for.

Tara changed the subject, and once again conversation
flowed. It wasn't any less tense than before, but it went
smoothly. Mulder excused himself first, insisting that he do
the dishes. He didn't rush the job, and by the time he was
done, the rest of the Scullys were ready to leave. Tara gave
him a peck on the check, and Matthew high-fived him. Bill
just nodded, so Mulder simply nodded back. 

Maggie came forward for a hug, which he returned willingly.
While she was in his embrace, she whispered, "You know, Bill
might be a little warmer toward you if you married my
daughter."

He smiled and pulled away. "I'm not the one you should be
talking to, then," he said softly.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," the older woman said, a hint of a
whine in her voice. It reminded him of Scully when she
wasn't getting her way. She glanced at her daughter and
shook her head, clearly frustrated.

Scully, who had heard none of the conversation, looked at
them, her brow furrowed.

With a final kiss on his cheek, Maggie turned to leave. "You
better keep trying, too, Fox." Her voice was stern, now.

Mulder gave her a mock salute. "Aye, aye, ma'am." Maggie
laughed and left, closing the door behind her.

Mulder turned to see Scully watching him with a frown, her
arms folded in front of her. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Mulder told her with a smirk. He headed for the
couch. "Just your mom trying to get me to make an honest
woman of you."

He heard Scully's resigned sigh behind him. He let himself
fall full-length on the couch, emitting a groan of
exhaustion. "I was so sure Bill was going to do a lot more
than what he did." He flung his arm over his eyes.

He felt Scully sit down on the edge of the couch next to his
hip. He jumped slightly as he felt her hand rest on his
chest. Typical reaction to her touch these days, he thought
wryly. Before Will's birth, before his abduction, when they
had been just starting to learn about each other sexually,
and still working together to boot, her touch had been rare
and treasured. It certainly wasn't rare anymore, but it
still enflamed him like nothing ever had before or since.
Especially since his brave, independent,
I-can-look-out-for-myself Scully rarely initiated sex. This
didn't mean she was a passive lover. Far from it. But, she
still seemed to be afraid of rejection. As if he would ever
reject her. As if he could.

He knew her shyness arose from both her Catholic upbringing,
and her past relationships, which all seemed to involve
dominant men. Of course, Mulder had been working on changing
the way she approached sex. Knowing how uninhibited she
became once passion took over, he was convinced it wouldn't
take much for her to become the aggressor from time to time.
Apparently, one of those times was now.

She carefully pulled herself along his length, lying fully
on top of him. Mulder dropped his arm to look at her,
dismayed at the look of uncertainty in her eyes. He didn't
bother to say anything. He simply lifted his hips slightly.
Her eyes widened and they met his. She had felt his
erection, which was already growing simply because she was
touching him. "Mulder?" she whispered, the uncertainty gone.

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you, don't you?" She kissed his chin.

"Yeah," he said, bringing his hands around to lightly place
them on her butt.

"And you know that I would love to marry you, right?"

Did he? He had asked. More than once, in fact. She had
turned him down every time. "Well, yeah," he said, and he
couldn't help the sarcasm that slipped though. "You're just
wanting a really, REALLY long courtship."

She had been nuzzling his chin, but at his words she
stopped. He looked at her. Her eyes were sad, but anger sat
just underneath the surface. "I do, Mulder. I do want to
marry you." She sighed and looked away. "Just not yet."

Will's impatient cry echoed from down the hall. "He probably
needs to be changed," Scully said softly, pushing herself
away from him and standing. "He went to sleep too early
tonight." Without looking at him, she walked away, leaving
him alone, sprawled on the couch and half aroused.

"Looks like we're both waiting for something unknown,
Scully."

***** 

End Part 1/7

Let's Face the Music and Dance-Part 2/7
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

J. Edgar Hoover Building

Special Agent John Doggett sat at his desk in the basement
office that had officially become his almost seven months
earlier, reading the police report that had been faxed to
him that morning. Once he finished reading it, he read it
again. But reading it a second time did not ease his
concern. In fact, it only made it worse.

His partner, Monica Reyes, walked through the door, casually
throwing her coat onto the rack, a small smile on her face.
It was a rare day indeed that she came to work unhappy.
"Morning, Agent Doggett," she said as she made her way over
to the other desk. The desk that had been his when Dana
Scully had run the X-Files. She paused when she reached it,
a frown taking over the smile. Her dark brows furrowed as
she looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You seem more
dour this morning than usual."

Doggett couldn't help but smile at her comment. She never
failed to make him laugh when she set her mind to it. He
looked back at the report in his hand, sobering instantly.
With a grimace, he leaned forward and shoved the papers her
way. Curiously, she took the report from him, then leaned
back, half sitting on her desk, to read it. He kept his eyes
glued to her face, easily reading the moment she understood
what she was reading and recognized the names of the people
involved. 

She finished and looked up at him, her eyes wide. "When did
you get this?"

"This morning," Doggett said roughly. "From persons
unknown."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I called the Bellefleur Police Department, and they
don't know who sent it. They said they had no reason to send
it to the Bureau." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"But someone thought we should see it," Reyes said, her
voice contemplative. Her gaze seemed to turn inward, and
Doggett knew she was thinking about something important. "We
should tell them," she said finally.

"Who?" Doggett asked, though he knew very well who she was
talking about.

Reyes simply glared at him.

"Nah-uh!" Doggett said, rising from his seat. "They don't
need to know anything about this."

Reyes also stood straight. "What? Why? This may concern
them!"

"I don't see how it could," Doggett argued. 

Reyes' voice rose. "What do you mean, you don't see how it
could?! They have a connection to this woman, especially
Mulder! What if this means their child is in danger?
Shouldn't we at least warn them?!"

Doggett shook his head determinedly. "They don't need to
have their lives turned upside down again, especially if
this is completely unrelated to what happened more than a
year ago."

"John," Reyes said, her voice calmer. "What if it isn't?
Someone wanted us to know about this. Why?" She shrugged.
"What can it hurt to at least put them on alert?"

Doggett didn't say a word, but he folded his arms and stood
staring at her, holding back his frustration. 

Reyes seemed to sense it anyway. "They may need our
protection, John, but they also deserve the truth."

"We don't even know the truth," he growled.

"And we'll find out the truth, but not before we tell Mulder
what's going on." Reyes' voice was firm; she wasn't about to
back down.

Doggett felt his shoulders droop. "Okay," he agreed. "But if
it's nothing...if we worry them for nothing, I'll..."

"You'll what?" Reyes asked with a grin.

"Never mind," Doggett grumbled, then headed for the door.
"Come on. Let's get this over with."

*****

When Scully's first class of the day was interrupted by a
phone call from her former partner, she knew the rest of the
day was bound to get interesting. Her first thought was that
he needed her help on an X-File. Instead, he had requested a
meeting with both her and Mulder at their apartment. Was it
important enough for her to blow off her classes? Yes, he
had said, his voice dark. It was.

Worriedly, Scully excused herself from her class, leaving
her assistant, an energetic would-be Quincy, ME, in charge
and headed for home.

When she arrived, she found both Doggett and Reyes sitting
comfortably on her couch and Mulder pacing the room. Monica
had Will in her lap. Scully had debated several months ago
on making Monica Will's Godmother, but felt it was only fair
since the other agent had been witness to the little boy's
birth. Besides, Scully really didn't have any other female
friends to ask. She and Skinner took their roles as
Godparents seriously, taking turns baby-sitting Will
whenever possible. 

At the moment, Monica seemed content and relaxed, and
Doggett also seemed at ease, but Mulder looked as if he was
about to explode at any moment. "What's wrong?" Scully
demanded as she entered the apartment, her eyes on Mulder.

"I don't know," Mulder griped. "They won't tell me."

Scully looked back at the agents, her eyebrows raised. 

"We wanted to wait until you got here," Doggett told her,
casting a glare in Mulder's direction.

Scully slipped off her coat and set it aside. She smiled at
Mulder. "Then why do you resemble a caged lion?" Make that a
panther, she thought to herself. Sleek and graceful and
ready to kill to defend his own.

"Muldah, sit down." Doggett demanded. "You too, Scully." His
voice was softer when he directed it toward her, as were his
eyes.

Will reached for his mother as she sat in the chair
kitty-corner from the couch, and she hefted him onto her
lap. "How's my boy?" she asked him. He responded with a
grin. Mulder moved over and sat on the arm of her chair, and
she felt the tension in his body as her arm touched his
thigh. She looked up at him with concern. When he didn't
return her gaze, she turned back to the agents. "Okay, I'm
here. What's going on?"

Monica gave Doggett a nervous glance, then started talking.
"We were faxed a police report from the Sheriff's Department
in Bellefleur, Oregon this morning. We called them, and they
confirmed that the report was real, but they don't know why
we were sent it."

Scully's body had tensed at the mention of Bellefleur, and
as Monica explained about the report, she again looked up at
Mulder. This time, he met her fearful look with one of his
own. 

"Just what is this report about?" Mulder asked, his voice
husky. Bellefleur. Their first case together. Their last
case together. The place Mulder had been abducted.

Doggett sighed. "A woman was found murdered in her home two
days ago. She was stabbed in the back of the neck. Her
twenty-month-old baby was taken from the home, apparently by
the killer or killers, and they are still looking for the
boy."

"It was Theresa Hoese, wasn't it?" Scully's voice was shaky,
and she immediately cleared her throat after asking the
question, as if that would help her voice steady.

"Yes," Monica confirmed. "She went to the police over two
weeks ago, telling them she felt her baby was in danger.
That someone was after the child." She glanced down, a frown
settling on her face. "They didn't believe her. They said
she had been...acting more than a little odd after she
returned from Absolom's camp in Montana. She had been living
with her mother, Wendy Nemman, who was not at home the night
of the attack." She looked up again, and Scully recognized
the glow in the other woman's eyes. She had seen it often in
Mulder's at the beginning of a new case. "They feel pretty
bad now, of course."

"Now, there is most likely no connection between what
happened here and what happened last year," Doggett started
to say.

Mulder interrupted. "Like Hell, there isn't!" Will frowned
up at his father, not liking the anger in his voice.
"Theresa knew something. That baby was taken for a reason."
He looked down at his own son, and Scully saw the worry in
his eyes. "Whatever it is, we need to figure it out."

"Wait a minute. We?" Doggett's tone was incredulous.

Mulder turned his attention to the agent now in charge of
his X-Files. "You're going out to Oregon, I presume?"

Doggett looked at Monica, who gave him a slight nod. "Yeah.
I guess we are."

"Then I'm coming with you."

*****

From the moment Agent Doggett and his partner stepped on
board a plane in D.C., and all through the three hour flight
to Chicago, the one and one half hour layover there, and the
nearly four and one half hours of flight time to Portland,
he had been more than aware of the tall, dark haired man
following them. Now, as they drove southward in their rental
car, he looked in the rearview mirror and saw the other
rental shadowing them.

"Wish I could lose him," he said softly.

Monica didn't even look up from the book she was reading or
ask who he was talking about. "Why don't you?"

"Scully would kill me," he told her. "It would probably be
impossible to do, anyway." Whatever negative feelings he had
for Mulder, Doggett had long ago admitted to himself that
the man had been one hell of an agent. A little impetuous at
times, more than a little apt to bend the rules. But Fox
Mulder's mind was sharp and his knowledge of subterfuge and
evasion was on par with the best spies in the business.
Doggett doubted he had lost much of his expertise in the
past year.

"Why didn't you let him travel *with* us, then?" Reyes
asked. 

"It was his idea to 'tag along'," Doggett said with a
grimace. "So he can do just that." He looked over at his
partner and friend, only to see her frowning. "Hey! He
didn't argue. He knows how much trouble we could get into if
we allow a civilian to become part of an official
investigation. Especially if they find out *who* that
civilian is."

Reyes nodded. "I guess. Still...it seems so rude. It almost
feels like we're driving along in a model-T while Henry Ford
himself is being forced to follow in a horse drawn
carriage."

"Well, in this case, Ford gave up that Model-T because he
didn't want it to endanger his wife and son."

Reyes was quiet for a while. "You think that's the real
reason he's been so content to let us run the X-Files?" she
asked. "Because he thinks if he gets involved again, it will
only put Will in danger?"

Doggett shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Monica." He
glanced in the mirror again. "All I know is that he and
Scully seemed to think Will wasn't in any danger right after
Billy Miles and his...friends...left you guys alone the
night of his birth, and now they seem worried again." He
paused. "Maybe they should be worried."

"Yesterday you didn't think Mrs. Hoese's death had anything
to do with Mulder," Monica reminded him.

Doggett didn't answer. He wasn't going to explain that it
wasn't that he hadn't thought there was a connection. It was
that he hadn't *wanted* there to be a connection. 

But, what if...?

He shook his head. The last six months of his life had been
very interesting. He and Reyes worked well together, and
they had managed the X-Files satisfactorily. Doggett had
even begun to respect and trust in Reyes' 'feelings'; they
had gotten him out of more than one mess in recent history.
He often called on Scully to help by doing an autopsy or to
get her medical opinion on a case. And Reyes had, from time
to time, met with Mulder to get his view on a certain
subject. He also knew that both Reyes and Skinner had been
to Scully's apartment from time to time for dinner or to
baby-sit Will. But, he had rarely seen either of Will's
parents outside of a professional setting. 

Despite this, he still felt a certain protectiveness over
Scully...and Will. The child, whom he rarely ever got to
see, was special to him. He didn't know if it was because he
had been able to watch him grow while he was still in his
mother's womb, or simply because the boy had grabbed his
heart when Doggett had first seen him in the hospital six
months ago. It didn't matter. He knew he would do everything
in his power to keep William Fox Mulder safe. And if little
Raymond Hoese II's kidnapping had any connection to Will,
Doggett was going to find it. 

It wasn't long before they pulled into Bellefleur. It was a
nice looking little town, but it's small population had
decreased significantly since the incident last year when
two of the counties best deputies had disappeared and one of
the department's detectives had been found dead in the trunk
of his vehicle. Doggett shook his head. Not the kind of
place you would want to settle down and raise your kids,
that's for sure.

He pulled to a stop in front of the Sheriff's Office,
noticing the odd looks he and his partner were receiving
from a couple of middle aged women standing on a nearby
street corner. Glancing at Monica, he noticed that she, too,
had seen the women, and was frowning back at them. "Look's
like strangers aren't very welcome around here," he said as
he unbuckled his seat belt. He cast a quick glance in the
rearview mirror. Mulder had parked behind them.

"With all that's happened in this town, I'd be surprised if
they didn't look at outsiders with a little trepidation,"
Monica responded, opening her door and slipping out onto the
street. 

Doggett followed suit, then looked back at Mulder, who was
already walking toward them. The faint, autumn sunlight
flashed off the former agents sunglasses as he grinned at
Doggett. "Well," he said, placing his hands on his hips.
"Fancy meeting you here, Agent Doggett."

"Muldah, shut up," Doggett growled, then headed for the
entrance to the Sheriff's Office. But not before he noticed
the grins Mulder and Monica shared before following him.

Once inside the building, Doggett turned to the other man.
"Now remember, you're here to observe, NOT ask questions."

"Yes, sir, Agent, sir," Mulder said. Doggett could tell he
was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Hey, this is serious," Doggett said softly.

Mulder's expression darkened. "You think I'd be here if I
didn't know that, Agent Doggett?" 

With a grimace, Doggett turned toward the admissions desk.
Damn, this was gonna be a long day.

*****

The day had already been long, and it wasn't nearly over
yet. Mulder grimaced, then rubbed his forehead, where a
tension headache had been teasing him since Chicago. He had
spent years flying from city to city around the country, but
it had been several months now since he had been on a plane.
He had never minded traveling before, but at the moment, he
hated it. He would like nothing better than to be back home,
doing his best to make both Scully and their son laugh. 

Why the hell had he come here, then? he asked himself.
Because Theresa Hoese had been killed and her baby had been
taken. Theresa Hoese. Who, like him, had been abducted,
tested on, and left for dead, only to be saved by a
different kind of miracle than the one that saved him.
Theresa Hoese, whose son could very well be as special as he
knew his own son was. He suddenly itched to grab his cell
phone and call home again, even though he had just talked to
Scully not thirty minutes ago. Even though Skinner and the
Gunmen had promised they would help look after his family
while he was gone.

As if they could do anything to stop someone like Billy
Miles if the replicant came calling.

He shook his head to try and rid himself of this thought,
and only increased the intensity of the throbbing behind his
temples. With a sigh, he concentrated on the words being
spoken between the two FBI agents and the deputy they were
questioning.

No, they had no leads on the missing child's whereabouts.
No, they had no idea who could have killed Mrs. Hoese or
why. She was stabbed in the back of the neck with a thin,
metallic object, possibly an ice pick, but the weapon itself
hadn't been found. Yes, she had had various bruises, proving
that there had indeed been a struggle. The only blood found
at the scene had been identified as the victim's.

Mulder felt a strong pressure in his chest, and as the
questions continued, it became nearly unbearable. He was
about to speak when Reyes asked the very question he had
been about to vocalize. "Has there been any bloodwork done
on Mrs. Hoese? Toxicology? That sort of thing?"

Mulder took a deep breath and looked over at the brunette,
his eyes wide. She glanced at him and winked, then looked at
the Deputy again, awaiting an answer.

"No," the young man answered. "No, I don't believe the ME
thought it was necessary."

"Do you think it's possible to do so now?" Reyes continued.
Mulder noticed Doggett looking at his partner with his brow
furrowed. Just like Scully used to look at him when he went
off on a tangent she didn't understand. He felt the corner
of his mouth quirk in amusement.

The deputy looked confused. "I don't see why not," he said.
"But--"

"Don't worry," Reyes continued. "It may be a long shot, but
it may answer a few questions we have, too."

Mulder sidled up to Reyes' back and said softly over her
shoulder, "You might want to make sure some of those blood
samples get to Quantico."

She turned and smiled at him. "I was just thinking the same
thing."

With a smirk of his own, Mulder replied, "Spooky," and
backed away.

Several minutes later, Mulder followed his companions back
out into the street. As he expected, Doggett turned on him
almost immediately. Unexpectedly, he included Reyes in his
angry speech.

"Would one of you please tell me what the Hell that was
about?" He glared at Reyes. "Bloodwork? Why?" He looked back
at Mulder. "And you want Scully to look at it. Any
particular reason?"

"So we get an honest answer," Mulder said without
hesitation. "I don't know about you, but I don't trust
anyone in this county." 

"And just what do you think she's going to find?" Doggett
asked, a little calmer now that he appeared to be getting
answers. "What are you looking for?"

Mulder looked at Reyes, who shrugged and answered with a
look that clearly said, 'you tell him.'

Mulder took a deep breath. "Theresa was an abductee. She had
been since her senior year in high school. She had the same
anomalous brain activity that I had, which was the reason
she was taken again--"

Doggett interrupted him. "Yeah, but you don't have it
anymore. And neither did she. Not since your...return." 

Mulder stood silent. 

Doggett's brow furrowed. "You don't, do you?"

Was that actually fear in John Doggett's eyes? Mulder
wondered. If it was, it certainly wasn't for him. Most
likely, it was for Scully. Doggett knew better than anyone,
even Skinner, what kind of tortures Scully had lived through
while Mulder had been missing.

"Not the way it was before my abduction," Mulder said
softly. "But..." He stopped and looked at Reyes imploringly.

The young woman faced Doggett. "He's becoming a telepath.
He's getting stronger and stronger all the time. In fact,
even I could hear him in there." She nodded back toward the
building behind them. "And his immunity to certain illnesses
is...well..."

"Out of this world?" Mulder finished when she couldn't. "At
least, that's what Scully calls it."

Doggett's eyes swept back and forth between them. "You're
joking. Right?"

"I need to know if Theresa was facing the same thing. If her
bloodwork shows she has the same abnormally high titers that
I do..." He stopped again, this time looking at the ground.

"What?" Doggett demanded.

"Will is even more immune to disease than I am. He's never
been sick a day in his life." He paused, then continued,
looking Doggett firmly in the eye. "And his powers of
telepathy are extraordinary, though not quite in control,
yet, since he's still too young to manage them. Apparently,
he got these traits from me. If Theresa's son has the same
talents, and he was taken because of them, then Will could
be next."

Doggett began shaking his head in confusion. "But, if Will
and this other kid are so special, why wait to take them
now?"

"That's something I haven't figured out, yet," Mulder said
softly.

Doggett glared at him. "You left Scully and your son--"

"I left them under guard," Mulder interrupted. "They're as
safe as they can be." He turned away from them and headed
toward his car. "But, if we don't find out the 'why' and the
'who' soon, there may be no way anybody can protect them."
He looked back at them as he opened his door. "So, Agents, I
suggest we get cracking."

*****

End Part 2/7

Let's Face the Music and Dance-Part 3/7
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

When Mulder had first moved in with Scully, her apartment
had been immaculate; Scully was, by nature, an organized
person who demanded order from herself and those around her.
Since Mulder had become part of the 'household', things had
changed. Not that he didn't keep things clean. He did. Or at
least, he tried to. But Scully was actually anxious to have
Mulder away for the first time in months so she could get
down and do a thorough top to bottom cleaning without him
looking over her shoulder saying, "Scully, it's already
clean. Why are you scrubbing so hard?"

How could she explain to him her compulsive need to make
sure everything was spotless? she asked herself as she set
out to make the bathtub sparkle. Of course, he probably
already knew. That was the problem with living with a
telepath.

They had first realized what was happening to him shortly
after Will's birth, when Mulder kept waking up just before
the baby, mumbling how he needed to be changed or he was
hungry. At first, Scully didn't think much of it; those
first few months had been a tangle of emotions intermingled
with very little sleep. But when Mulder said, "Ow! Scully!
That hurts!" when she accidentally pinched Will's tender
skin under the buckle of his car seat, and Mulder had been
putting things in the trunk, unable to see into the back
seat, they both began to wonder.

Two MRI's and a CAT scan later, Scully had been only
slightly relieved to find no abnormalities that could be
construed as dangerous. But abnormalities existed. And
though they never put Will through the tests, they knew he
had been 'blessed' with these talents, too. He just didn't
know how to use them very well, yet, and was easily
distracted, which was how Scully was able to enter the
apartment without either of them noticing the other day. She
smiled to herself as she scrubbed. Which meant Mulder was
easily distracted, too.

Usually, he was able to sense her presence before she even
entered the room. And he was getting better and better at
hearing her thoughts, though she was able to close her mind
to him when she felt him delving. "No sneaking into my mind
when I don't want you there, Fox Mulder," she once told him
with a frown. Of course, when he was asleep, she had no real
control, and Scully had had more than a few
interesting...mostly erotic...dreams that she was sure were
not just hers alone. Too bad he hadn't figured out a way to
vanquish her nightmares, though he had told her once the
images she saw were eerily similar to the nightmare visions
he had during the dreamstate he had escaped to when Cancer
Man had literally been playing with his brain. 

The thought of the old man caused a shiver to run up her
backbone. She had heard he was dead. Skinner had witnessed
his burial himself. But, it had been less than a year since
they had watched Mulder's casket, with his body inside,
lowered into a grave. So Scully took this news with a grain
of salt. CGB Spender had been involved directly with
whatever the aliens had planned; there was no guarantee he
had stayed dead.

Scully sat back on her heels and glanced out the bathroom
door, listening carefully for the sounds of her mother and
Will in the living room. Being Saturday, her mother was
spending the day with her grandson. Margaret Scully had
already asked where Mulder was, and had kept her other
questions to herself when Scully had answered simply, "Out
of town." She also didn't ask questions about the Volkswagen
van parked in the street by the apartment building, with
three familiar faces inside keeping their eyes on her
apartment window.

Her bodyguards.

Amazingly enough, she did feel safe with the Gunmen watching
her and Will in Mulder's absence. She knew they would
willingly die for the baby if need be. And perhaps for her,
as well. 

Skinner had taken his turn watching her in the past three
days, often spending hours in the apartment playing with
Will. His surveillance, combined with his stressful, busy
job at the Bureau, left the AD exhausted. Scully commented
that he shouldn't use so much of his off time to watch her;
he wasn't getting any younger. His only response, other than
the beet red color his face turned, had been a glare and a
stiff-legged walk out of her apartment and back down to his
car, where he sat, watching, until the Gunmen relieved him
around 1 AM.

She was anxious for Mulder to call, again, if only to tell
her they had caught the psychopath that had killed Theresa
Hoese and kidnapped her baby. To tell her there was no
connection between the crime and their son. But she was
beginning to think that would never happen, especially since
she had taken a close look at Theresa's bloodwork and a
recent MRI taken only two months ago after the young mother
had complained about severe migraines. She, like Mulder, had
been having a resurgence of extraordinary brain activity.
And if the notes taken from the child psychologist who had
been treating Ray Hoese Jr. were anything to go by, the
toddler was as special as her own Will. 

A knock at the front door grabbed her attention. With a
groan, she got up off the floor, wincing at the pain in her
knees. Skinner wasn't the only one who wasn't getting any
younger. Quickly, she made her way into the living room. Her
mother, with Will propped on her hip, was looking out the
peephole. She turned to face her daughter as Scully entered
the room.

"It's Mr. Skinner," she said. "He has a couple of women with
him that I don't recognize."

Scully's eyebrows rose as she took her mother's place in
front of the door. Sure enough, it was Skinner. And she
could just make out two women off to the side of her area of
vision. Carefully, she opened the door, but didn't undo the
chain. "Yes?" she asked politely.

"Scully," Skinner replied. "It's just me. Wondering if I
could borrow a cup of sugar."

Scully couldn't help but smile as Skinner recited the phrase
that told her all was well. Frohike had come up with it, of
course. She closed the door, unclasped the chain, and opened
it, allowing the Assistant Director and the two women to
enter. She did not know either of them.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Though Skinner was no longer
her boss, and both Scully and Mulder called him a friend,
she automatically reverted to the 'sir' when others were
present. 

"I thought you should talk to these two ladies," he told
her. "They have information that might be of great
importance to both you and Mulder."

Scully looked at the women. Neither of them were very old.
One had blonde hair, was of moderate height (which was still
taller than Scully), and looked to be in her early forties.
The other was a tall, leggy brunette. She was in her late
twenties, and quick intelligence flashed in her light brown
eyes.

The blonde began speaking. "We're sorry to intrude on you
like this, Agent Scully," she said, her voice husky. "But
when we heard about what happened to Mrs. Hoese, we knew we
had to act."

Scully folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. She glanced at
Skinner, whose expression had yet to change since he had
entered the room, then back at her mother, who was still
holding Will. Her baby's bright hazel eyes were staring
intently at the two women, as if he was trying to figure
them out. Scully looked back at them as well. 

"Who are you?"

The blonde spoke again. She nodded to the taller woman.
"This is Dr. Susan Donohue. She's a pediatrician who
recently set up practice here in DC." She laid her hand flat
on her upper chest. "My name is Greta Olsen. I'm a
Registered Nurse working part time at Georgetown." She
sighed. "We are both employed by an acquaintance of yours."

"Who?" Though she didn't look directly at him, Scully saw
Skinner tense out of the corner of her eye.

"CGB Spender."

Suddenly, Will began to cry.

*****

"Are you sure this is the man?"

Mulder controlled the urge to groan in frustration. Why
couldn't Doggett just admit that the old man knew what he
was talking about? It was so obvious Wilmer Conner
recognized the man in the photo Doggett was holding up if
only because he had known the subject for years.

"Of course I'm sure," the old fart grunted. "I've known that
boy since he was knee high."  

Mulder glanced at Monica, who was looking at him with
laughter in her eyes. He could hear her clearly in his head.
*Do people still talk like this?*

He smiled slightly in response, then brought his attention
back to Doggett. For some reason, the normally competent
agent seemed to be out of his element today. Though Mulder
could read Monica's thoughts when she projected, he knew she
couldn't read his very well, even when he wanted her to.
Still, she must have known by his expression what he was
thinking, because she took over the questioning from her
partner.

"Mr. Conner, no one is denying that you knew this man," she
began. "I think what Agent Doggett is trying to ask is
whether or not you're positive it was this man or someone
who looked very much like him." She sent an apologetic
glance toward Doggett, which Mulder didn't think he
deserved, then turned back to the old man. "Even Mr. Mulder
here could be mistaken for this man from the back." 

Wilmer shook his head, the small amount of white hair still
on his head moving in the faint breeze he created. "Nope. I
didn't see him from the back. I saw him from the front.
Walking toward me. And God help me, all I wanted to do was
run. I know what they say happened to him." He turned pale
blue eyes toward Mulder. "And to you." He shrugged. "But you
ain't got the look in your eyes that he had."

"What kind of look?" Mulder asked softly.

"Evil," the old man gasped. "Pure evil." He shuddered
visibly. "He and Mr. and Mrs. Hoese and so many others were
taken. And Mrs. Hoese, she came back. But, she was never the
same. She was so scared. Scared for her baby." He glared at
Doggett. "And there he was. That boy. I always liked him,
even though I thought he was a little nuts, you know? But,
not this time." he shook his head again. "This time, I knew
he had an agenda, and he planned on fulfilling it, come Hell
or high water."

Mulder opened his mouth to ask another question, but an icy
glare from Doggett stopped him from speaking. Mulder glanced
at Monica again, only to see her hide a smile. She really
seemed to be enjoying the by-play between the two of them,
even if it was nasty. Maybe especially when it was nasty.

"Did you talk to him at all?" Doggett asked, turning back to
face the old man. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No, no," Wilmer said, shaking his head yet again. *He's
gonna get dizzy if he keeps that up,* Mulder thought. Monica
snorted softly. "Didn't even look at me. And that boy was
usually so polite, especially when he was working with the
Sheriff's Department."

"Why didn't you tell us this before now, Mr. Conner?"
Doggett continued. *Now we're getting somewhere,* Mulder
projected, ignoring Monica's answering glare. "We've been in
town for three days now."

Wilmer shrugged. "Didn't really associate him with Mrs.
Hoese's death until last night."

Mulder felt his lip twist in disbelief and he knew the two
agents must be feeling the same thing.

"Really?" Doggett said, sarcasm under control...for now.
"You knew they were both...abductees," he seemed to have a
hard time saying the word, "but you didn't associate his
return with Mrs. Hoese's death?" He shifted forward in his
seat. "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Conner."

The old man's eyes shifted nervously. "Well...maybe I just
didn't want to get involved. I mean, if he could kill a
woman he's been friends with since childhood, what's to keep
him from killing the old man that used to live down the
street from him?"

"Yet," Mulder said, ignoring Doggett's warning look, "you
did come to us. What changed your mind?"

Wilmer sighed. "I'm old. I ain't got much time left anyway.
And I kept thinking about that baby." He looked at Mulder,
his eyes sad. "That poor child. What's he gonna do with that
poor child? I mean, it's not like he don't have a child of
his own. What's he need with Mrs. Hoese's?"

Mulder's eyes met Doggett's startled ones, then they both
looked at Monica. She sat, mouth agape, as shocked as they.

Mulder stood and began to assist Wilmer up from his chair
and out of the room. "Mr. Conner, we can't thank you enough
for your help."

"You're gonna find that baby, aren't you?" the old man
asked. "You're gonna help that little boy?"

"We're going to do our best," Mulder said softly, then
ushered him out of the room. Carefully, he closed the door,
then turned to face the two agents, leaning heavily against
the wooden frame behind him.

"Well."

"Yeah," Monica agreed. "Well."

"A kid?" Doggett whispered. "How come we never knew about a
kid before?"

"Looks like we better find the ex-Mrs. Billy Miles," Mulder
said in reply. "I know I have some questions for her. How
about you guys?"

*****

"Not possible," Scully heard herself say, surprised at the
sandpaper quality her voice had taken and wondering if
anyone had even heard her over Will's incessant wailing.

Her women visitors looked a bit discomfited, but they both
stood their ground.

Scully sank to the edge of the couch, taking deep breaths,
trying to clear her mind. But her son's anger and fear were
palpable, and his cries distracting. She looked up at
Maggie. "Mom?"

Mrs. Scully didn't even hesitate. "Come on, Will. Let's get
you changed and ready for your nap." She turned toward the
bedroom, and soon the baby's cries were muffled behind the
closed door.

Scully faced the women again. "He's dead," she said firmly,
directing her words to the blonde. Greta.

"No, he's not," she said in reply. "Though it was touch and
go for a while." She smiled slightly, and Scully was amazed
to see what appeared to be affection in the woman's eyes.
"He's even getting stronger now. And 'they' know it."

"They?" Scully glanced at Skinner, who was still standing
motionless near the front door.

"The aliens, Agent Scully," the brunette, Susan, said. "When
the replicants first came, they had no leader, no orders.
They were running on instinct, doing everything in their
power to insure their creators' survival." She grimaced.
"Which meant eliminating anything or anyone that was a
serious threat to the colonists."

"Colonists?" Scully scoffed. "Is that what they call
themselves?"

Susan offered her a thin smile. "Just as the English and
Spaniards called themselves 'colonists' before decimating
the native populations of the Americas."

'Good point,' Scully thought, but she said nothing. "So what
do these replicants have to do with Spender?" She was barely
able to spit out the man's name.

"He's their new leader," Greta said, pride in her voice.

Scully couldn't help it. She laughed. Loudly.

Greta frowned. Susan looked as if she was trying not to
laugh along with Scully.

Taking a deep breath, Scully controlled herself. "This is
supposed to make me feel better?" she asked, her anger
growing. "These 'colonists' are bad enough, now they're
being controlled by the Devil. That is supposed to make me
feel better?"

"If you want to keep your son safe, yes," Greta answered,
anger coating her voice. "Why do you think they spared your
son?"

Scully felt a chill run up her back. Shortly after Will's
birth, she had posed that very question to Mulder. "Maybe
he's not what they thought he was," had been his answer. But
when Will's talents had become obvious to them both, the
question had presented itself to them once again, though
they never spoke it outright. "I...I don't know."

"Because Spender told them to," Susan said, her eyes sad.
"He wanted the boy protected. He wants them all protected."

Scully looked at the young doctor. "All? You mean, like
Theresa Hoese's son?"

Susan nodded. "Your son isn't the first, despite what others
may have said. But he is the most powerful, the most perfect
of them all." She folded her arms and moved to the other end
of the couch. With a sigh, she sat down and turned to look
at Scully. "There are ten of them, eight boys and two girls.
All born to abductees who had been tested on *and* who had
been exposed to the vaccines that Spender and the others
were working on. The combination was incredible. It mutates
the DNA of the individuals, making them unique, making
them--"

"More human than human," Scully whispered, remembering
Krycek's words from six months earlier. "But Theresa wasn't
given the vaccine," she argued.

"Yes, she was," Susan explained. "She and others in
Bellefleur were given it instead of the flu vaccine more
than two years ago. Without their knowledge, or course." She
sounded bitter.

"But Spender has somehow 'talked' these replicants into
protecting the children?" Scully asked. "Why? And how?"

"By convincing them the children could be the beginnings of
a new, wonderful race. One that the colonists could use to
advance their own race."

"A slave race, you mean?" 

"No," Susan shook her head. "That's what humans are for."
She looked down at her hands, which she had folded in her
lap. "These children are special. They have high IQ's,
immunities to any and all terrestrial disease, abilities not
even the Grays have. Spender convinced the Grays that these
children are prophets. Sent by a God the Grays abandoned
long ago."

Scully felt her jaw drop. "You mean he started a new
religion among the aliens?!"

Susan smiled slightly. "Yes. And your son is their new
Messiah."

Scully shook her head in disbelief. "He conned them," she
whispered. Eyes flashing, she looked back at the woman next
to her. "You didn't tell me why he wants to protect them."

"That's simple," Greta answered. "He knows these children,
if they survive, can indeed destroy the aliens." She shifted
her weight from one foot to the other. "His 'con', as you
call it, could fall apart at any moment...but he's holding
it together using his own reputation and charisma."

Cancer man? Charisma? Right.

"If these replicants are protecting the children you speak
of, and Theresa Hoese's child is one of them, then why was
she killed? Her child taken?"

Susan looked sad at the mention of Theresa. "She had become
a danger to her child. She was beginning to understand and
fear her little boy's power, and was contemplating ending
his life, and hers, in order to 'save' him. We couldn't let
that happen."

"You had her under such close surveillance that you knew
what she was planning?" Scully said, incredulous.

"Yes," Greta said. "There were Grays in Bellefleur who were
in contact with little Ray through telepathy. The boy let
them know what his mother was thinking." She folded her arms
and gave Scully a not so friendly grin. "They're watching
you, too."

"But they can't reach your son," Susan added, as if trying
to soothe Scully's suddenly pounding heart. "His father is
always in some kind of loose contact with him, and the Grays
risk alerting him to their presence if they try and
communicate with the baby." Her grin was much friendlier
than Greta's. "They're afraid of Mulder. He came away from
his 'experience' very powerful. After all, they didn't plan
on having one of their replacements survive intact."

This comforted Scully only a little. "Why are you telling me
this?"

"We were hoping you could call off your boyfriend," Greta
said. "Call off the investigation in Oregon."

Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I think I
know why you're involved," she said, opening her eyes and
looking at Greta. "Your loyalty to Spender is very clear."
She looked at Susan. "But what about you? How did you get
involved?"

Susan flushed slightly, then she looked Scully straight in
the eye. "My son is one of those children," she whispered.
"I'm Billy Miles' ex-wife."

*****

End Part 3/7

Let's Face the Music and Dance-Part 4/7
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

It was close to midnight when Mulder finally made it home.
He was tired, frustrated and stressed, especially since his
last conversation with Scully just before he left Oregon.
She had told him she had some new information about the case
he was working on and she wanted him back home. Since he and
his companions were having no luck finding Susan Miles,
Mulder agreed, leaving Doggett and Reyes in Portland to
continue their search. 

He was anxious to get back, not because of the information
Scully said she had, but because he had never been away from
her and their son this long before and he was finding it a
lot more difficult than he could ever have imagined. The cab
that took him from the airport to his home couldn't move
fast enough for him.

Finally, he was there. He paid off the cabby, then turned
and headed for the front doors of the apartment complex,
suitcases in hand. A woman he had never seen before was also
heading up the walk. She looked at him, and her eyes
narrowed in recognition. "Mr. Mulder?"

Mulder stopped in front of the door, using the bright
security light to help him see the woman better. She was
tall, with dark brown, almost black, hair. Not
model-beautiful, but a girl-next-door type of woman. Her
eyes were expressive, but he couldn't really judge their
color in the unnatural light they stood in. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you."

Damn, he hated that response. "Yeah, well, so does the
President, but I'm sure he wishes he didn't." Though the
current Chief of State had never contacted him directly, his
past exploits had attracted the man's attention, as well as
the attention of his predecessor. It wasn't a good thing, in
Mulder's mind.

The woman smiled at his response, and he began to amend the
girl-next-door thought; as friendly as she looked, this
woman could be dangerous. "My name is Susan Donahue." She
glanced at the apartment. "Agent Scully called me after you
called her at the airport. She wanted us to talk."

Mulder felt his brow furrow. "You have information?"

"A great deal of it," she said, her smile not as bright as
before. "In fact, you've been looking for me, knowing I can
give you answers, though I bet I have more than you ever
suspected."

Mulder's brain finished the connection. "You're Susan
Miles."

She nodded, her smile gone. "I was married to Bill, yes. I
changed back to my maiden name after the divorce." Again,
she looked toward the apartment. "Should we go inside? I'm
sure you're anxious to see your family."

He felt a shiver run up his spine...but it wasn't a shiver
of dread. It was one of pure pleasure. Family. His family.
He nodded to Donahue and headed into the building, allowing
her to open doors for him as he was still carrying his
luggage.

Scully stood in the open door of their apartment when they
reached it. Her face conveyed her mixed emotions. Happiness
at his return. Nervousness about his reaction to Donahue.
Fear. About what, he wasn't too sure. As usual, she had
closed herself off to him, and he wasn't about to push,
mentally or verbally. He would know why she was afraid soon
enough.

He knew Will was sleeping before he even entered the
apartment, so he kept his footsteps light as he carried his
bags into the bedroom, setting them down carefully in front
of the closet. He would worry about unpacking later. Before
returning to the living room where he had left Scully and
Donahue, he walked over to the crib and looked down at his
son. The little boy was sleeping soundly, his dreams a blur
of light and color, as they always were. Only tonight, a
darkness swelled around the outer edges of the baby's
consciousness. It disturbed Mulder. With a heavy sigh, he
turned and left the room.

Donahue was sitting stiffly on the couch when he entered the
living room, and Scully was just returning from the kitchen
with two cups of fresh coffee. She handed one to Mulder, the
other one to Donahue, then sat empty handed in the recliner.
His chair. The only addition they had made to Scully's
already established furniture arrangement after he moved in.
He moved to sit on the other end of the sofa, trying to
catch Scully's eye. Trying to decipher her emotions. He
could do neither.

"So," he said instead, turning his body to face Donahue as
he sat. "We've established that you used to be married to
Billy Miles," he told her. "And, if what we discovered in
Bellefleur is true, you are the mother of his child, as
well. Is this true?"

Donahue nodded. "I have a son, Wesley. I legally changed his
name to Donahue after Billy was abducted last year. I didn't
feel he needed the attention that his father brought."

"How old is he?" Scully asked. Mulder glanced at her,
relieved to see that she had relaxed. Apparently, it wasn't
Donahue herself that Scully was afraid of. 

"He's almost two," Donahue responded. "He's the oldest."

Mulder, who had turned to face the brunette again, cocked
his head. "The oldest? You have other children?"

Donahue shook her head. "No. They're not mine. I only care
for them."

"How many are in your care?" Scully asked. Mulder again
looked at her. She had to have seen the question in his
eyes, but she ignored it.

"Four of them. Either abandoned by their parents or..."

Mulder's mind swirled. "Is Ray Hoese Jr. one of them?" His
voice was dark. This woman did indeed know more than was
expected.

Donahue paused, glancing down at the cup in her hands. She
had yet to take a drink from it. She licked her lips
nervously, then looked at him again. "Not yet. But he will
be before the week is out."

Mulder felt his whole body turn cold. "Then you must know
that your ex-husband is the prime suspect in Theresa Hoese's
death."

"My ex-husband is dead, Mr. Mulder." Her voice had
strengthened. "He died, just as you did, almost a year ago.
Only *he* didn't come back." She stood suddenly, setting the
cup down on the coffee table in front of her. "Mr. Mulder, I
am here only because Dana asked me to come. It's not
dangerous for me to tell you or her these things, but it's
not something I'm supposed to do, either. Spender doesn't
mind if you know what's going on, but he doesn't want your
FBI friends involved, so--"

"Spender?!" Mulder also set his cup down and stood. "Cancer
Man?!" He swung around to look at Scully, who had gone pale,
but hadn't moved. Now he knew what she was afraid of. And
now he recognized the darkness that surrounded his son's
dreams. He faced Donahue again, anger and hatred filling him
to the core. "You work for him, don't you?" he growled.
"You..."

"Mulder!" Scully, recognizing the danger in Mulder's
behavior, stood and grasped his arm lightly. "Please,
Mulder! Listen to what she has to say."

Without taking his eyes off Donahue, he sat back down onto
the couch. Scully, in order to keep contact with him, sat
down on the arm, her hand firm on his shoulder. 

The younger woman didn't sit. Nervously, she began to pace.
"I knew I shouldn't have come here. He knew we would be able
to reason with Dana, but not you. He said he would have to
talk to you alone." She stopped and turned to face them. "He
needs your help, Mr. Mulder."

Mulder snorted. "Yeah, right." He felt Scully's hand squeeze
his shoulder. She opened to him a bit, and while her fear
was powerful, her trust in this woman was also strong. Not
absolute. But strong.

"Susan," she said softly. "Why don't you tell Mulder what
you told me this morning? Then, we'll go from there."

*****

Scully sighed and turned over in bed...again. It was
probably the tenth time she had done so since she had
climbed into it shortly after Susan left. Mulder still
hadn't joined her. Lifting her head slightly, she took note
of the time glaring out at her in bright red numerals from
the alarm clock. 3:43. Her eyes darted to the bedroom door,
which stood open. The hallway beyond was dark, and she knew
the living room would be as well. But, Mulder wasn't
sleeping. She had felt the subtle probe of his mind more
than once since she had gone to bed. He was waiting for her
to sleep; she was easier to 'read' then.

With another heavy sigh, she threw off the blankets and slid
out of the bed. Not bothering with a robe or slippers, she
padded out of the room and down the hall. The city lights
shone through the far window, allowing her to see him
clearly. He was stretched out on the couch, his arms folded
behind his head. She could see the whites of his eyes as he
glanced her way, then he continued his contemplation of the
ceiling above him.

She stood silent for a while, then she moved to the end of
the couch by his head and looked down at him. "Are you
coming to bed?" she whispered. "Or are you reverting to your
old ways?"

"If that was the case, the TV would be on," he replied
softly.

"Good point." She leaned over him, catching his eye. "So?"

"I'm not really sleepy," he said, closing his eyes in order
to avoid making contact with hers.

"Mulder." Her voice was stern. The voice of FBI Agent Scully
when she was ticked off with her partner.

He didn't open his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned
upward. "Yes, Scully?"

"Come to bed," she said, softening her voice in response to
the softening of his expression. "I promise you won't regret
it."

Warily, he opened his eyes. "I thought you were mad at me."

Scully stood straight, forcing Mulder to tilt his head up to
keep looking at her. The angle was obviously uncomfortable
for him, so he sat up and turned to face her instead. "Mad
at you?" Scully said, confusion evident in her voice. "Why
would I be mad at you?"

"Because of what I'm doing tomorrow," Mulder said without
hesitation. He had agreed to accompany Susan to meet with
the Smoking Man tomorrow afternoon. 

Scully had been none too thrilled with the idea of the
meeting, but she also knew it was necessary. "What else can
you do, Mulder?" she asked him. "Our son's future lies in
the hands of one man. You need to find out how you -- how
*we* -- can change that."

"We could always run," Mulder told her, his voice unsteady.

"To where?" Scully responded, her throat tightening. "Some
place *they* can't find us?" She closed her eyes and
laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Please, tell me
where that might be."

She opened her eyes to see Mulder staring at the floor. "So,
you're not mad at me?"

Scully laughed again, only this time there was more
amusement in it. "Oh, Mulder. How long have you known me?
You, of all people, should be able to tell the difference
between when I'm mad at you and when I'm scared for you."

Mulder stood suddenly. "But that's just it, Scully. You
close yourself off so tight to me sometimes, that I can't
tell the difference." He walked up to her and cradled her
face in his hands. "After all this time together, why can't
you let me in?"

Scully felt tears gather, but she ignored them. She bit her
lower lip, then met his eyes with her own. "Maybe because
I'm afraid that if I do, and something happens to either one
of us, the other won't be able to go on. I don't want that
to happen, Mulder. It scares me." She pulled away from him.
"I remember how I was when I thought you were dead. How dead
I was." She looked at him again. "Only the baby kept me
going."

"Do you believe in God, Scully?"

The question startled her. She frowned. "You know I do."

"Then you believe in Heaven, right? An afterlife of some
sort?"

She nodded. 

Mulder grinned and stepped close to her once more. "Then you
have nothing to worry about. We'll always be together." His
eyebrows rose in question. "Unless you're convinced that
*I'm* not going to Heaven."

Scully sighed and began to smile through her tears. "Mulder
--"

He wrapped his arms around her, interrupting her. "I know,
Scully. I know." She buried her face in his chest and felt
it expand as he breathed in deep. "When you were sick with
cancer, the idea of losing you, of being alone, was the
worst torture I could ever have imagined. So I understand
what you're afraid of." He leaned back and looked down at
her. "But we're alive now, Scully. Why not live? Really
live?"

"Live like there's no tomorrow?" she asked wryly.

"No," he responded. "Live like tonight is the beginning of
forever."

She gave him a sad smile, then brought her arms up to wrap
them around his neck. "Well, if that's the case...come to
bed, Mulder. Teach me how to live."

"First you've got to let me in."

A tingle of fear swept through her. As well as a shiver of
sweet anticipation. "Okay."

*****

Mulder heard Scully's whispered 'okay', but he didn't really
believe it. He knew how hard it was for her to let go of her
emotions, much less her mind. He smiled anyway and began
backing toward the bedroom; he'd take what he could get. 

But Scully stopped him before he got too far. "Let's stay
out here," she whispered. "I don't want to have to worry
about waking Will."

Mulder frowned. "We never wake Will." Not only did the baby
sleep very soundly, but Scully was always so quiet when they
made love. There had been exceptions, of course, but those
times had been either before the baby was born or when the
baby was spending the night with his grandmother. 

"You want me to open up to you, don't you?" Her voice was
sweet and sultry, and Mulder felt a shiver run up his spine.

"Yes," he said carefully.

"Then we better be prepared for the consequences."

Either she was teasing him, or she meant what she said; she
was really going to let him in. He felt his whole being
vibrate in anticipation, and the blood in his veins surged
to gather in his loins. Slowly, he followed her as she lead
him to the fireplace. 

She let go of his hand and turned toward the hearth. "It's
chilly out. We could use a fire."

Mulder was about to make a quip about how the fire in his
body should be more than enough to keep them warm, but the
idea of making love to this woman with her body glowing in
firelight kept him quiet. He moved forward and helped her
set the kindling and light the blaze. 

Once they were assured it would burn steadily, Scully sank
to her knees on the soft rug that sat before the hearth.
They had talked about making love here before, but had never
managed to try it. Will, Scully's job, and the day to day
trials that made up their life always left them too tired to
expand their locations; their bed had always been good
enough. But not tonight. 

Tonight, Scully's deft fingers made quick work of undoing
his jeans, pulling the top button free and sliding the
zipper down over the quickly growing bulge underneath. She
pulled the denim down his long legs and he obligingly
stepped out of them, letting her catch his socks and pull
them off when he lifted his feet off the floor. She grasped
the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down as
well, carefully avoiding the sensitive flesh she exposed. 

"Take off your shirt," she said softly without looking up
from her 'work'. Mulder, who was pretty sure he knew what
she was planning to do, did as she asked. But, it wasn't
easy because his fingers were trembling. What was about to
happen was a fantasy come to life. Not that Scully hadn't
touched him many times in the past, but she had only used
her mouth on him once: one very memorable night in Los
Angeles when they had returned to their hotel after nearly
maxing out the Bureau credit card given to them by Skinner.
She had been more than a little tipsy at the time and had
told him how all her previous boyfriends had made her
perform the act, even though she hated it, and how, since
Mulder had never asked it of her, she would reward him by
going down on him of her own free will. Later, when Mulder
had been trying desperately to get his breathing back to
normal, he had heard her whisper that she had enjoyed it,
too. 

But Scully wasn't drunk tonight. As he let his shirt fall to
the floor behind him, Mulder looked down at the woman who
kneeled in front of him, apparently admiring his attributes
with a small smile on her face. "Uh, Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

'You... ah... don't have to do this." 

She looked up at him, her smile widening. "Don't you want
it, Mulder?"

"Uh..."

"Tell the truth."

Truth. Right. "Yeah, of course, but not if you aren't
enjoying it, too."

She looked back down at his erection, which was now fully
engorged and waiting. "I think I might enjoy it. As I
recall, the last time I did this to you, I liked it."

"Scully--"

"Mulder, you wanted me to open up to you. I am."

"Scully, doing this for me is *not* what I meant by opening
up to me!"

"Mulder." Scully sounded as if she was getting a bit
exasperated. "If you would concentrate long enough to
realize I'm trying to let you in, you might understand how
much I want to do this."

He had been concentrating so hard on her physically, that he
hadn't even thought to open his mind to her. Taking a deep
breath, he closed his eyes and 'touched' her. For a second,
he ran into the familiar barriers. But, suddenly, the door
opened, and he was there. With her. In her. In a way he had
never been before. Moments later, her mouth surrounded him
and her tongue began to swirl along his length. He groaned
and sank into the feeling, not just of her actions, but the
feelings of pleasure, excitement, and contentment that
emanated from her.  

With his hands resting on her head, Mulder felt the wonder
of knowing that she was as turned on by this activity as he
was. That she was thoroughly enjoying, not just the taste
and texture of him, but the thought of driving him mad with
passion. And she was. With the combination of his excitement
and hers, he felt as if he was losing his mind. And it felt
wonderful.

She was sucking on him now. Hard. He heard a repetitive,
almost plaintive groan, and knew it had to be emanating from
him. He wanted to be embarrassed, but the knowledge that the
sounds he was making only made Scully even more aroused kept
him from letting shame take over. "Sc--Scullee?"

"Hmmm...?" she managed to answer, without taking her mouth
from him.

"I-- I can-- feel you..." Her hands tightened on his hips as
they began to jerk erratically. His fingers tightened around
her hair, and he felt pain. Her pain. With a huge effort, he
managed to loosen his grip. "You--you're coming!" 'You'?
Didn't he mean 'I'?

With a shout, he came. 

And so did she.

Mulder stumbled back away from her. He felt the couch
against the back of his legs, but instead of sitting down on
it, he slid to the floor. With wide eyes, he stared at his
lover.

She also was gasping for air. She had fallen forward on her
hands, and her expression as she looked at him was as
astonished as he felt. "What the hell was that?" she
demanded.

Weakly, he shrugged. "I guess you do like it."

*****

Scully sat back on her heels, giving Mulder a teasing glare.
"Obviously," she whispered, her voice raspy sounding. "But,
I..." She stopped, feeling heat spread across her face. 

Mulder nodded, a mock serious expression on his face. "I
know," he said gruffly. "You did."

Scully looked down at the floor for a moment, then glanced
back up at Mulder. "I've never done that before," she told
him. "I mean," she quickly amended. "Not without a little
more..."

"Physical stimulation?" Mulder said when she didn't finish.

"Yeah." She took a deep breath, relieved to discover her
heartbeat was starting to slow. "Mulder, it was like I
could...I don't know...'feel' you." She tapped her head. "In
here."

"Like you were reading *my* mind." It wasn't a question.
Mulder had obviously been thinking the same thing. 

"How?"

Mulder shrugged. "Try it now."

Scully closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the man
in front of her. She tried to imagine him sitting there,
naked, back against the couch, bare legs sprawled in front
of him. She felt his mind touch hers, and instinctively
wanted to pull back. Instead, she forced herself to relax,
and let him in. But she still couldn't sense his thoughts. 

Finally, she opened her eyes, frustration filling her. "I
know it was your thoughts I felt, Mulder. Women don't think
like that during sex. And besides, it was..."

Mulder, who had also closed his eyes, opened them. A silly
grin sat on his face. "It was what?" he whispered.

"It was...powerful. Too powerful to be just my feelings
alone." She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you smiling
about?"

His smile grew. "You. What I feel from you. What I see in
your mind."

"Mulder!"

"Don't, Scully! It's wonderful. Beautiful. Don't shut me
out again!"

Her face red again, Scully looked away from him. But, she
didn't attempt to stop him from reading her. *It's not
fair,* she thought.

"I know," Mulder answered. "But, maybe it was our...intense
activity...that allowed you to read me." He scooted forward
so that she sat, still on her knees, between his long legs.
She looked up at him. He was still smiling, but it was a
wicked smile now. "Maybe we should try it again, huh?"

She held back a smile of her own. "You sure you're up for
it?"

Mulder looked downward, then back up at her. "Well, not at
the moment, but I'm sure I will be with a
little...encouragement." 

Scully smiled, then rose up on her knees in front of him,
pulling off her panties. Shifting slightly, she straddled
him, carefully seating herself on his extended thighs. He
smiled in return and brought his hands up under her sleep
shirt to cup her breasts. His thumbs came up and teased her
nipples, rubbing them gently at first, then harder. She
moaned and leaned into him, bringing her mouth to his. He
responded with a passionate kiss, his fingers never slowing
their sensuous torture. She felt her hips begin to
instinctively rock against him, and was pleased to find that
he was already hardening once more. Mulder sometimes claimed
he was getting old, but his body sure had a hard time
proving this fact to Scully.

With a gasp, she pulled away from his mouth and pulled her
shirt up and off, throwing it  towards the couch behind
Mulder. Lowering her head, she started raining gentle
butterfly kisses down his throat and along his sternum. She
detoured from her path over to his left nipple, and smiled
just before she let her tongue tease it. He moaned her name.
Never had she known a man could have such sensitive nipples;
she loved it. She moved over to the other one, her hips
still rocking against him. 

Scully felt his hands slide down her belly and tangle with
the curls at the juncture of her legs. She jerked back away
from him when he slid a finger into her wet depths.
"Mulder!"

"Are you ready, Scully?" he asked, his voice tense. "Because
I sure the hell am."

Lifting her head to look at him, she nodded. She felt him
part her folds, and then he was there, sliding into her.
Every solid inch of  him. She closed her eyes and wrapped
her arms around his neck, bringing her tingling breasts
flush against his chest. She could feel him. Wonderful. And
she could feel... "Mulder?"

"I know," he said, a smile in his voice. She opened her eyes
to look at him in astonishment. "You can feel what I'm
feeling," he continued. "You can read my mind, too."

And she could. His desire. His love. His soft surprise at
their union, as if he was amazed it was actually happening.
"Do you always feel this way?" she asked. 

He looked at her, his brow furrowed. *What do you mean?*

She smiled. *Like you can't believe it's actually
happening.*

He looked abashed for a moment. *Can you blame me? After
more than seven years of dreaming about it, it's gonna take
a while before it hits me that all this is real*

Scully shifted and straightened out her legs so they
stretched out behind Mulder. The change in position pushed
him in even deeper. They paused for a moment to catch their
breath, then Mulder began to gently rock his hips. His
movements only allowed a small amount of penetration and
withdrawal, but it felt wonderful. And she knew he was
enjoying it, too. She started a counter-rhythm with her own
hips, then leaned in to kiss him, whispering, "Believe."

"Oh, God!" Mulder gasped. "I do!" 

Scully felt the orgasm growing inside her. Slowly. Oh-so
wonderfully slow. Building. In her and in him. Their rocking
became more frantic. Mulder leaned back suddenly, bracing
himself on his elbows. This not only changed his angle of
penetration, but allowed him to thrust up into her with more
force. The feelings, both his and hers, began to intermingle
in her head until she could no longer distinguish between
them. "Mulder!" she called.

His only response was to thrust even harder. 

It hit her with an incredible force. It stretched through
her body, causing the tips of her fingers and toes to go
numb, and her whole body to shiver uncontrollably. Bright
lights flashed behind her eyes, and the only sound she could
hear was that of a heartbeat. She was flying on a wave of
pleasure so powerful it was frightening.

And then her own orgasm hit, and she rode another wave, just
as powerful but different than the first.

When she finally came to her senses, she found herself
sprawled on Mulder's chest, unsure how she had gotten there
seeing as her legs had been facing the other way before. She
moved her head, finding a more comfortable spot to lay it
just above his heart.

*Scully?*

She smiled. *Yeah?*

*Just checking.*

*****

End 4/7

Let's Face the Music and Dance-Part 5/7
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

"Just where, exactly, are we going?"

Mulder never took his eyes off the woman seated next to him
in the back of the black sedan that had picked him up in
front of the apartment less than an hour ago. She seemed
much colder today, more in control. An emotionless
automaton. The kind of person Mulder could see working for
the Devil. Last night, when she had been telling him about
his son and the other children, she had seemed much more
human.

"I can't tell you that, Mr. Mulder," Susan said without
looking at him. "If he wants you to know, he'll tell you."

Mulder was confused by that statement. He glanced out the
window of the swiftly moving vehicle, then looked at the
driver, meeting the emotionless eyes of the human robot in
the rearview mirror. He looked at Dr. Donahue again. "What?
You gonna blindfold me or something?"

"Eventually," the dark haired woman said softly. 

Was that regret he heard in her voice? Which was the real
Susan Donahue? The mother concerned for her son and the
other children? Or the woman who acted as one of the minions
of Cancer Man? He tried to probe her mind, but she suddenly
turned toward him, her eyes flashing.

"Stop!" she exclaimed. 

Mulder drew back, both mentally and physically.

Donahue lowered her eyes, her face turning pink. "I'm
sorry," she said. "I've learned to recognize telepathic
probes. I'm not comfortable with them."

Mulder sat silent for a moment, then asked, "Your son?"

She nodded, but kept her eyes on her hands, which lay folded
in her lap. "Yes. And..."

"And?" Mulder encouraged her. She was afraid of something.
He didn't have to be a telepath to see that. "I thought you
weren't in any danger. He knows I'm coming, doesn't he?"

She sighed. "Yes. Of course he does." She looked at him
again, and her gaze was no longer cool and emotionless. "But
*they* don't. I don't know how they'll react."

"You told Scully that they're afraid of me," Mulder noted.
"Isn't that right?"

She swallowed and nodded. "They are. And that's the problem.
You are a threat to them. They would like nothing more than
to destroy you."

"Why don't they?"

"They understand martyrdom, Mr. Mulder. Spender has made
sure of that."

Mulder snorted. "Me? A martyr? Never in my wildest dreams."

"You don't even know the extent of the possibilities,"
Donahue whispered, casting a covert glance toward the
driver. "If you knew..." 

"Knew what?" Mulder whispered back, feeling his trepidation
grow even more.

Donahue shook her head. She reached into the bag at her feet
and pulled out a black handkerchief. "It's time to blindfold
you, Mr. Mulder."

Instinctively, Mulder pulled back. He really didn't like
being blind.

Holding the cloth up, she looked him in the eye. "Please.
It's only a precaution. If the meeting goes well, you
needn't wear it on the way home." Her gaze became intent.
"Trust me. Please."

He didn't want to. But his instincts told him this meeting
was important. That it was to determine his future. And his
son's future, as well.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and allowed the
woman to lay the folded cloth over his eyes and tie it
behind his head. Then, he leaned back and settled in for the
ride. 

He must have dozed, because Donahue's voice was telling him
they had arrived and he felt as if only minutes had passed.
He wasn't surprised that he had; he hadn't gotten much sleep
last night. And he had been very active. He felt the corners
of his mouth twitch.  Very. 

He felt Donahue exit the vehicle and knew that the driver
had also gotten out. He reached over to his right and felt
around for the handle of the door. He had just gotten a hold
of it when it moved under his hand and the door opened.
"Please step out, Mr. Mulder," a man's voice told him. He
didn't recognize it, but he didn't think it belonged to the
driver; this man's presence wasn't the same. In fact, this
man's presence wasn't human. 'Hey, I'm getting good at
this,' he thought wryly.

He carefully got out of the car and stood, waiting. He felt
the man reach behind him, and the loose knot at the back of
his head came undone. The bright sunlight he was suddenly
exposed to caused him to squint, and he didn't see the man
in front of him clearly. He blinked, chasing away the tears
that had formed in response to the light, and looked close.
He recognized the man standing before him immediately,
though they had never met before. 

"Ray Hoese."

The man...only Mulder knew it wasn't a man...smirked at him.
"Come," he said, and he turned away. Mulder followed,
looking over at Donahue, who was watching the replicant with
a combination of fear and hatred. He looked at Hoese's back.
Was this who could read her mind? he wondered. Could they be
telepaths, too? Mulder sent out a mental question toward the
thing in front of him, but got no feeling back. No emotion.
Nothing. Odd. Even when Scully was blocking him, and when
Donahue had blocked him earlier, he was still able to feel
*something*. But with this *man* there was nothing.

But, there was something. A presence on the other side of
the door that felt very familiar. His heart began beating
faster. Adrenaline rush. As if he was preparing himself for
battle. He followed Hoese into the building, a modest cabin
sitting in a golden forest.

His eyes adjusted to the dark of the room easily since they
had never really had a chance to adjust to the sun. He swept
his gaze from one side of the room to the other, quickly
taking in the number of people in the room as well as
possible escape routes and weapons. Donahue passed him and
headed for the far right side of the room, where a little
man with wire-framed glasses stood, hands folded behind his
back. He had the air of a doctor. In the center of the room,
straight ahead of him, stood Billy Miles. Hoese walked over
to his fellow replicant and stood next to him, turning to
face Mulder. Their stiff stance gave them the appearance of
soldiers, which is what Mulder supposed they were.

He looked to his left and saw the man he had come to see.
Only what he saw shocked him. CGB Spender was a frail
looking old man in a wheelchair. The blonde Greta stood next
to him, one hand on the back of the chair. Mulder took a
couple of steps in the old man's direction, eyeing him
carefully. Was it an act? It sure didn't look like it.
Cancer Man was falling apart: wrinkles covered so much of
his face, Mulder could hardly see his eyes. A tremor in his
right hand seemed completely uncontrollable, and he appeared
to be nothing but skin and bones underneath the flannel robe
that covered him from neck to toe. This had to be a trick.
There was no way a man in this condition could be
controlling the aliens.

*Don't let appearances fool you, Fox.*

Mulder was so startled by the words in his head that he
jumped. With a frown, he leaned in closer to the old man.

*Why are you so surprised, Fox? Did you really think that,
with my body falling apart, my mind would be going, too?*

*How?* Mulder stood straight and looked about the room. *Can
they...?*

*No.* Spender shook his head slightly. *They aren't gifted
like we are. And of course, the only reason I can is because
of you.* A smile became apparent through the creases in his
face. *You are the reason I am where I am, Fox. And I am
going to make sure they know that.*

*Why?* Mulder asked.

*Because, I am dying.* Spender closed his eyes. *And after I
go, I want you to take my place.*

*****

Scully reached down to pick up the soft latex toy her son
had thrown across the room earlier in the day and stifled
another yawn. Standing straight, she glanced at Skinner, who
sat reading on the sofa, hoping he hadn't noticed. The last
thing she needed was to be asked why she was so tired. She
had never been able to lie to her former boss; not very
well, anyway. 

Will had finally gone down for his afternoon nap only a few
minutes earlier, and she was seriously contemplating taking
one as well. It was Sunday. The laundry was done, as were
the dishes from both breakfast and lunch. And Skinner was
here to keep an eye on things. She could tell him she, too,
wanted to catch up on some reading in her bedroom and pass
out on the bed instead. It wouldn't be a lie if she really
did attempt to read first. 

Biting her lower lip to keep from smiling at her thoughts,
Scully walked over to her front window. Though he seemed
preoccupied with his novel, she knew the AD was more than
aware of his surroundings; she had long ago learned to never
underestimate the man. Especially after the incidents that
lead up to Will's birth those short six months ago. She
glanced at him again from her new position. He hadn't been
the only one changed by the events of those days. While he
had become more relaxed around her and Mulder, she had heard
that he had become even more of a hard-ass at work...if that
were possible. He had a tendency to rage at the agents under
his command for the smallest of infractions. She wasn't sure
what had lead to the change, but she told Mulder that she
suspected it had something to do with Krycek and the way the
younger man had died. Mulder disagreed. He thought all
Skinner needed was to get laid. Hey! It had worked for him,
hadn't it?

Maybe Mulder was right, but God knew the man was never going
to find any romance when he spent all of his free time
guarding her and her family. 

She looked out the window and saw the familiar van parked on
the curb. Mulder had called the Gunmen and told him he was
visiting 'an old friend' and that, though Skinner was
spending the day with Scully and his Godson, Mulder wanted
them to keep an eye on things as well. Scully knew that he
believed in the importance of meeting with Cancer Man, but
he wasn't about to discount the possibility of a set-up.
Nobody was about to lure him out of town just so they could
grab his son.

Scully leaned her head against the window frame and sighed.
She closed her eyes and relaxed, sending out 'feelers' with
her mind, something she had only just learned to do early
that morning. He was out there. She could feel him. Where,
she had no clue, but the connection they had established the
night before was still there, though it was very weak. She
could not read his thoughts, or even his emotions, but the
simple fact that she could feel his living presence was
enough to give her comfort. She wondered how far this tie
could be stretched. And she regretted not opening herself up
to it long before last night. Oh, what time they had wasted.
She snorted softly. What time they were wasting even now.

"You okay?" 

Scully jumped slightly at Skinner's question. Opening her
eyes, she turned to find that he had left his book to join
her at the window. He stood only a few feet behind her.
Sure, she could feel Mulder's presence from who knew how
many miles, but she hadn't noticed someone right next to
her. Obviously, she wasn't the telepath of the family. "I'm
fine," she said to Skinner softly.

"You're worried." It wasn't a question. It was a statement
of fact.

Scully tilted her head. "Oh, so now you're psychic?"

Skinner smirked at her and shook his head. "No. But, I have
observed you and Mulder worrying about each other for
several years now. I'm very familiar with the
'I'm-fine-on-the-outside-but-falling-apart-on-the-inside'
expression."

Scully allowed herself a small smile. "Well, if you knew
where he was, you'd be worried, too."

The former Marine folded his arms and cocked his head at
her. "I assume it's something to do with the Hoese case," he
said. "Something Mulder doesn't want Doggett or Reyes to
know about. Though why he'd want to keep them in the dark, I
don't know."

Scully sighed. "Or you, right?"

"I'll admit, I'd prefer to know the whole story, yes." He
sighed. "But, I trust Mulder. And I trust you. You'll tell
me when you feel I need to know."

Scully felt her eyes widen. "Wow. I think I like you better
when you aren't our boss."

Skinner laughed.

With a smile of her own, Scully glanced out the window. What
she saw made her pause, and she moved closer to the glass,
her smile fading. Skinner noticed her expression and also
leaned in to look outside. A woman was standing next to the
Gunmen's van talking to someone inside. A familiar woman. 

"Is that...?" Skinner left the question open, disbelief and
growing anger in his voice.

"I think so," Scully responded. Quickly, she spun away from
the window and headed for the door.

"Scully!"

"Stay with Will," she told him, easily avoiding Skinner as
he reached out to stop her. She reached the door and turned
to look at him. "Please?"

Skinner nodded. "Just be careful. You know who she
associated with in the past."

She nodded and left the apartment. Yes, she did indeed know
who Marita Covarrubias' loyalties had been to once upon a
time. Which was why Scully wanted to talk to her now.

*****

*It's a wonderful plan,* Spender was saying to Mulder in his
head. *Unless they discover the truth, of course.*

They had been left alone by the others several minutes ago,
but Spender was still communicating telepathically. It was
probably easier for him than talking. And it was definitely
safer.

Maybe. 

*Those things out there can't hear us, huh?* he asked.

*The replicants cannot hear us, no. But the others can if we
want them to.*

*Others? You mean the Grays?*

Spender nodded. *You will have to learn to guard your
thoughts around them carefully. They can't force their way
into your head if you put up protective barriers, just as
you can't get inside theirs if they don't want you to. But
you have to learn how to keep them out.* He tilted his head.
*Talking, like we are right now, is very different than
simply reading emotions and such. You have the ability to do
that with anyone, whether they want you to or not.*

Mulder thought of Scully and how he had been able to clearly
sense her emotions for the last several months, but until
last night had not been able to decipher why she felt the
way she did. 

*Of course,* Spender continued, *most people are unaware
that you are trying to read them and won't even know you are
there in their mind.*

Scully had known.

*That's because you two are so very close emotionally.*

Mulder glared at the old man. *Stop it.*

Spender simply smiled. *Make me.* He shook his head
ruefully. *Fox, if you are to take my place, you will need
to protect your mind from invasion. Otherwise, they will
read you like a book, and you will be able to do nothing to
protect this precious Earth of yours from an invasion of
another kind.*

*I'm not taking your place.* If he had been speaking,
Mulder's voice would have sounded like a growl.

*Ah, Fox. You are the only one who can. Don't you see?*

Mulder stood from the chair he had been sitting in and
started to pace the room. *No. I don't see.*

*No one believed that the vaccine would cause your DNA to
mutate. No one thought that it would allow you to become
more like them. And when it did, it started to kill you. Had
we been able to foresee that, we still would not have been
able to prevent it. But, they could.* Spender closed his
eyes as if he was preparing to fall asleep, but his mind was
still active and intent on Mulder's. *They cured you. They
kept you alive. Of course, they wanted you to become like
Billy Miles and Ray Hoese. But, you didn't. You lived. And
you will continue to live for a long, long time. The only
reason I can do what I can is because--*

*Because you cut open my head and took a part of it for
yourself!*

Spender sighed. *Yes. But unlike you, I haven't been cured.
I am still dying. And you are the only one who can keep my
lie alive.* He paused. *And if my lie dies, Scully's
nightmare will become reality.*

Mulder's whole body felt like ice. How could he know of her
dream? Not even Mulder had received a clear mental picture
of it from her; she had had to describe it to him verbally.
Spender appeared to be waiting for a response, so Mulder
knew his attempt to keep the man from his private thoughts
was working. But he also knew the old man felt his anger.

"What do you know of her dream?" Mulder asked aloud, venom
filling his voice.

Spender's eyes opened. *The aliens are watching you and your
son. They know of it.*

*Are they controlling it?*

*No.* He smiled again. *Fox, you must know how special she
is. Your son is the way he is not just because he is your
son, but because he is hers. The tests done on her years
ago, combined with the vaccine you gave her in
Antarctica...they have made her special.* He shifted
slightly in his chair. *When we discovered that the
offspring of such subjects like Teresa Hoese and Billy Miles
were as special as they were, I knew that a child of Dana's
would be even more so. But I also knew she had been left
barren by those very tests.*

*So you did something to her, didn't you?* Mulder felt as if
his blood was beginning to boil. *Last year, when you made
her lie to me and took her away. You did something to her
that allowed her to get pregnant.*

Spender began to laugh, and the sound was harsh. *Oh, Fox.
You overestimate me. She was right in her suspicions that I
drugged her. But I only acquired blood from her, to ensure
she was healthy and wasn't somehow suffering from the same
brain disorder you were at the time. It was wrong to keep
that from her, by the way. It's amazing she forgave you.*

Mulder ignored the last part. *You took blood from her,
nothing more?*

*Believe me, the idea of her producing a child with you was
thrilling. I could only imagine the power that a child with
both your enhanced DNA and hers would be like. But I didn't
think it was possible. I was so very hopeful when the two of
you tried the IVF, and so very sad when it failed, though if
it had succeeded, the resulting child would not have been as
powerful as your William is. After all, Scully had not been
exposed to the vaccine when her ova were extracted.*

*But she conceived. And Will is ours; we had his DNA tested.
You had to have done something to her!*

*Fox! Don't you understand yet?* Spenders 'voice' was
strong. *I did nothing. I am not responsible for the
existence of your son!*

*Then who is?*

*****

When Scully stepped out of her apartment building, the woman
next to the van across the street, as well as the occupants
inside, looked her way. Which was a good thing, Scully
thought, since they were supposed to be surveilling her
complex. Glancing up, then down the street, Scully jogged
across it toward them. Marita turned to face her.

Scully took in the other woman's appearance and was
surprised by what she saw. She had only met the blonde once,
though Mulder had used her as a contact many times before,
and that occasion had been one she dearly wanted to forget.
It had been the day before Mulder's abduction, when both
Marita and Krycek had come to their office to talk Mulder
into going back to Oregon and finding the ship that was
hiding there. Scully had often wondered if Krycek had known
Mulder would be taken. Or if Marita had known.

That day had been a lifetime ago, or so it seemed, and
Marita looked very different. Then she had been cool as a
cucumber, slim, statuesque and beautiful in a frigid sort of
way. Scully had felt a pang of jealousy at the knowledge
that Mulder had known this woman for quite some time. But
now she looked much older than she should have only sixteen
months later. Her face was thin, and though she had a
naturally pale complexion, it seemed almost ghostly white in
the thin sunlight. Her eyes were light blue pools of
concern. And fear. 

Scully couldn't imagine why this woman would be afraid of
her, but she tried to approach with a little less audacity
and more caution. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to Mulder," she said, her voice breathy. She
nodded to the van. "But these guys wouldn't let me in."

Good for them, Scully thought. "Gee, I wonder why," she said
aloud, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

"Agent Scully, I--"

Her voice was suddenly silenced by a wail coming from inside
the van. Marita turned back to it, her expression almost
panicked, and Scully stepped closer to peer inside. 

Frohike sat just inside the doorway, holding an infant. A
very tiny infant. Marita reached in and took the baby,
cooing and cuddling as only a mother could. The baby's cries
quieted, and Scully looked down into her scrunched up eyes.
She, at least Scully thought it was a she, had to be only a
couple of months old.

"Yours?" Scully asked unnecessarily.

"Yes."

"Is she one of...?" What did she call them, these special
children?

"I'm not sure," Marita said, her voice shaky. "She is
special, but I don't know if she's as special as your child
or the others I heard about." She looked up from the baby to
meet Scully's eyes. "What I do know is that the Cigarette
Man wants her." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "I
can't believe the bastard didn't die." There were tears in
her voice now.

Scully looked at Frohike, who sat in the van with a tortured
look on his face. Byers and Langly were standing behind him,
also looking quite concerned. 

"Miss Covarrubias?" The woman didn't respond. "Marita?" 

She opened her eyes. "He wants to take Rebecca from me," she
whispered. "But, she can't be like the others. I was never
abducted."

"But you were tested, weren't you?" Byers asked. "By the
Consortium?"

The woman shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut again. Then
she looked at her baby. "Do you think they planned this?"
she wondered aloud. "Do you think they were trying to
recreate what the aliens had accidentally done to you and
the others?"

Scully paused. She hadn't thought of that, though it was
obvious to her now. Jeffrey Spender had told them, just
before his death at the hands of his own father, that he had
helped Marita escape from Ft. Marlene. Both he and Mulder
had seen the horrible condition the Consortium had left her
in, though neither knew where she had gone after her
release. Somehow, she had gotten her life back together, and
somehow she had ended up working with the senior Spender
once again. Why had they kept her so long after she had been
cured by the vaccine? What kind of tests had they performed
on her?

"Maybe," Scully whispered. She reached over and placed her
hand on the baby's head. Mulder had taught her how to open
up to him. Could she open herself to another telepath as
well? Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and projected
her mind, hoping to catch a stray thought from either Marita
or the baby. Though she heard no words in her head, it was
very obvious that the baby was indeed special. Comfort,
warmth, slight hunger, and...

She opened her eyes to meet Marita's gaze. "She needs to be
changed," she said with a soft smile.

"I knew I smelled something," Frohike grumbled. 

Marita looked at the men behind her, then turned back to
Scully, her gaze startled. She smiled. It was weak, but it
was real. Then her expression turned pleading. "Please, help
me. Help us."

Scully simply nodded.

*****

End Part 5/7

Let's Face the Music and Dance-Part 6
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

Mulder wasn't blindfolded for the drive home. But it didn't
matter. He didn't notice much around him anyway.

His mind was too busy to care about where he was physically.
In the four hours he had 'talked' with Spender, Mulder had
learned a great deal about his mental abilities. He learned
that his 'gift' was a very good lie detector, especially
among people who knew nothing about his abilities. He had
also learned how to protect his own thoughts to keep other
telepaths from seeing his lies, just as Spender was doing
with the Grays. 

And at the end of the long, detailed discussion, he had
promised CGB Spender, the man who claimed to be his father,
but whom Mulder knew now was not, that he would not tell
anyone of their 'deal'. Anyone. Even Scully.

Spender had known Mulder wasn't going to keep that promise,
but he pretended otherwise.

Mulder's thoughts turned to Will. The Cancer Man hadn't been
lying about his lack of  involvement in Will's conception,
and Mulder had felt the first hint of fear in the old man
when he couldn't explain how Scully had become pregnant. It
couldn't have been the Grays, since they hadn't even known
she was pregnant until her third trimester. And though
Parenti and the others had been trying to protect her and
the baby, there had been no evidence that they had anything
to do with Will's existence. 

Mulder was beginning to suspect that the claim of a miracle
wasn't just an excuse. 

Susan Donahue sat quietly next to him on the long drive,
never saying a word. But he could feel her gaze on him from
time to time, and her emotions were strong. She was
contemplative. Fearful. Hopeful.

When they neared the apartment, Mulder looked at her. She
met his eyes with her own, then asked him softly, "Did you
agree?"

Mulder said nothing, knowing that his expression said it
all. 

She smiled slightly, her eyes now full of the hope he had
felt from her earlier. She nodded and looked away. "Good."

Mulder began to pray she was right. 

When they pulled up to the front of the apartment, Mulder
directed his thoughts toward the people waiting for him
inside. He sensed five different individuals, but only one
mattered at the moment. *Scully?*

*Mulder?* The emotion behind that one word was strong, full
of relief at his return and wonder at the fact that she
could 'talk' to him without either one of them speaking. And
love; he could feel that very clearly. *Where are you?*

Mulder smiled at the familiar phrase as he reached for the
door handle. *Right outside,* he told her. As he stepped out
of the car he looked at the window of the apartment just in
time to see the curtain move and Scully's face appear. He
nodded his head at her and smiled softly, not wanting to
clue Susan in on the fact that he and Scully could now
communicate telepathically. As far as he was concerned, no
one needed to know that. He hoped he could get Scully to
agree with him.

He bent down and looked back into the car at Donahue. He
opened his mouth to speak, then realized he had no clue what
to say. She smiled at him and nodded her head in response to
his confused look. "Goodbye, Mr. Mulder. For now." For not
being able to read minds, she sure had a knack for knowing
what he was thinking. 

He nodded back, stood straight, and closed the door.
Turning, he headed toward the building. Scully had
disappeared behind the curtains again, but she was still in
his head. She had felt his momentary confusion, but she
seemed to be facing an enigma of her own. *What's wrong?* he
asked.

The answer he received was unusual, since no words were
involved, only images and feelings. Yet, he quickly
understood the situation, and he started walking even
faster. When he entered the apartment, he was not at all
surprised to see Marita Covarrubias sitting nervously on the
couch. Nor was he surprised to see the baby sleeping soundly
in her arms. Skinner sat at the other end of the couch and
Scully stood at the opposite end of the room, holding a
tired but wide awake Will on her hip. The baby smiled when
he entered, and Mulder practically glowed in the absolute
trust and love he felt flowing from his child. "Hey, buddy,"
he said as he made his way toward them, purposefully
ignoring the other woman and child in the room; Marita was
afraid of him, and he wanted to give her some time to
collect herself before facing her.

Mulder reached for Will and lifted him away from Scully,
swinging the boy onto his own hip. Then, in a move that
obviously startled Scully, he leaned over and kissed her
soundly on the mouth. Her blue eyes widened in surprise.
Though they had been openly living with each other for the
last six months, neither of them seemed very comfortable
with public displays of affection. He grinned at her and
turned to face the others, but not before he saw Scully's
eyes narrow. Damn. She may not be able to read his mind when
he closed her off, but she didn't need to when she could
read his actions so thoroughly.

*Mulder?*

*Later,* he quickly answered. *Let's get rid of Skinner,
huh?*

Scully began to walk across the room to take a seat. *Why?*

*Because I don't want him involved any further.*

She sat down and looked at Skinner. "I think it's okay to go
home now, sir," she told him. To Mulder, she said, *And
Marita?*

*She's already involved too deep to get out.* 

Skinner stood. "Yeah. I guess." He headed for the door,
grabbing his coat off the rack as he strode by. "Call me if
you need anything." He looked at Scully carefully, and
Mulder knew he sensed there was something non-verbal going
on between them. The AD glanced at Mulder. "Anything."

Mulder nodded his understanding. Skinner didn't trust Marita
any father than Will could throw her. Mulder wouldn't have
either...if he wasn't able to tell by her emotions just how
terrified the woman was.

After Skinner left, Mulder turned to face the pale woman. He
nodded toward the baby.  "Alex know about her before he
died?"

As impossible as it seemed, Marita paled even further. She
shook her head. "I was too afraid to tell him," she
whispered. "And then it was too late." She took a deep
breath and met his eyes with her own. "Please, help us."

"What makes you think that I can?" Mulder asked.

"I know where you went today," she told him. "And I know
why. Now, I need to know if you said 'yes'. Because if you
did, the rebels will kill you. But if you said 'no', then I
give up now, because the world as we know it is over."

"Then we better figure out a good way to keep me alive,"
Mulder told her. "Because I said 'yes'."

*****

It was almost 2 AM. Will had gone to sleep hours ago. Marita
and little Rebecca were asleep in the guest room. And Mulder
also seemed on the verge of drifting off. But Scully
couldn't relax. Couldn't sleep. Even after the bout of
energetic, yet quiet, sex she and Mulder had just completed.
Her whole body was limp, but her mind would not settle down.

Mulder had explained to her and Marita what he had agreed
to, and how he was going to proceed with his objective
without getting himself killed. But Scully, who was now
incredibly, magically connected to this man, heard a
completely different story behind his words. After they had
retired to their bed, she had demanded he explain what was
really going on. Instead, he had distracted her with more
mind blowing sex.

Now she lay in his arms, her heart slowing, her body
cooling, her temper starting to heat.

*If I tell you, will you promise not to say anything out
loud?*

Scully caught her breath. She had been sure he was almost
asleep. *Why? Do you really think someone could hear us?*

*Yes, I do.*

*But not if we...talk...like this?*

*Not with the walls I learned how to build today.*

Scully didn't respond for a moment. *Learned? From Spender?*

*Yes.*

*You're really going to take his place, aren't you?*

*Well...*

*Mulder.* 

*I have an idea. But, I don't want Marita to know about it
until we go through with the plan.*

*She trusts you, now,* Scully told him. *Even I could see
that. I hope you aren't using her.*

*Scully, the rebels want me dead, because they think I'll
lead the Grays to a successful invasion. The Grays want me
alive, but are afraid of me, meaning I can control them as
long as I pretend to be on their side. In reality, I can
keep them from taking over. For a while, anyway. If they
knew my real intentions, they'd kill me without hesitation.
With Spender gone, I'm the only one they'll listen to.*

*Until Will and the others are old enough to 'take over'.*

*Exactly.*

*And you want to take Marita with you to Arizona?* Mulder
had told them that Spender had headed to a secret base in
the Sonora Desert shortly after they parted the day before,
and Spender expected Mulder to join him there soon.

*She understands the Grays AND the rebels. She'll be of
great assistance to the group.*

Scully sat up suddenly. *I can't believe you're thinking
like this!* She glared down at him. *What did he say to make
you want to become the leader of this...this new
Consortium?!*

Mulder sat up and shifted to face her. *I don't WANT to,
Scully. I NEED to.*

*Why?*

*Will needs to be protected. Hell, the world needs to be
protected.*

Suddenly, Scully began to laugh. *So, you really are about
to become the center of the Universe.*

Mulder couldn't help but laugh softly along with her. *Only
until our son is old enough to take care of said Universe
himself.*

Scully sobered. *Marita knew Spender was offering you
this...job. If she knows, then the rebels know, too. They'll
stop you.*

*Krycek tried that already. He believed what the rebels
believed, that I would eventually start working with the
Grays and stop trying to save the world. He didn't succeed.*

*Oh, I see. You going to take Skinner with you to Arizona,
too?* Even with telepathy, her sarcasm was clear.

*No, but I do have something in mind to insure the rebels
don't find me. And that they'll leave you and Will alone
when I'm gone.*

*What?*

Mulder didn't use words to explain the plan to her. It was
too complicated to spell out. She felt him concentrate on
her, asking that she open her mind to him even more. Images
and feelings spun through her head, swirling about wildly,
and she carefully began to sort them out, to separate them
into coherent ideas. The transfer ended, and they both took
a deep breath. 

*Wow.* Mulder projected. *That was almost as intense as...*
His eyebrows shot up and down suggestively.

Scully smiled. *Yeah.* Then she frowned. *Will it work?*

*It will if we believe it will.*

*It'll be hard.*

*How hard?* 

Scully swallowed. *Probably one of the hardest things I've
ever had to do.*

*Really?* Mulder's eyes had widened.

*Yes, really.*

*Me, too.* He took a deep breath, and his voice broke the
silence that surrounded the bedroom. "Marry me."

Scully felt her heart skip, just as it had every other time
he had said those words to her. "You think that will make it
any easier?"

"No," Mulder answered, his voice husky. "But it will make me
the happiest man in the world, alien or otherwise."

"Just like a soldier asking he best girl to marry him before
he goes off to war, huh?"

"Yeah. Something like that." He was nervous. She was so
attuned to him now, it was obvious. 

Taking another deep breath, Scully scooted closer to him. 

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

***** 

'This is bullshit.'

John Doggett didn't say what he was thinking out loud, but
it wasn't the first time he had thought it in the last
several hours. Last several days, really. Ever since
Tuesday, when this had all begun. Now, he found himself
following a group of formerly joyous but soon to be very
depressed people out onto the tarmac of a small, privately
owned airport south of Arlington.

Tuesday. The day that Special Agent Dana Scully had visited
his office, which used to be hers, to invite him and his
partner to her wedding on Friday.

Now, it wasn't as if he hadn't been expecting it. He always
knew that Scully would marry Mulder some day. But, a little
part of him had been hoping that Mulder would get bored with
domestic life and up and leave one day. Then he could play
the hero and offer Scully a shoulder to cry on. Well, half
of his private fantasy was coming true; Mulder was
leaving...but he was marrying Scully first, insuring that no
other man would be offering his shoulder to her anytime
soon.

Doggett hadn't found out about Mulder's planned departure
until just before the wedding itself. It had taken place in
a little chapel near Manassas. That had been Doggett's first
surprise. He had always assumed Mulder would not appreciate
a church wedding; Scully had commented to him months ago how
Mulder wasn't the religious type. But not only had the
former agent wanted the wedding done in a church, he had
asked the Scully family priest, Father McCue, to preside
over it. It wasn't a Catholic ceremony (Scully had informed
him that that would have entailed Mulder becoming confirmed
as a Catholic AND six months of pre-matrimonial counseling),
but God was definitely present. 

And Mulder didn't seem to mind.

An old friend of Scully's by the name of Ellen stood as her
Matron of Honor, and Frohike, looking uncomfortable in a
tux, stood with Mulder. At Scully's request, and with
Margaret Scully's consent, AD Skinner walked the bride down
the aisle.

She had been gorgeous. Her dress was a simple off-white
sheath with a scooped neckline and an ankle length skirt.
Her elegant arms were bare, and her ever present cross still
graced her neck. Her hair, which she had been growing out,
was pulled up into a French twist at the back of her head. 

Mulder, decked out in a traditional black tuxedo, never took
his eyes off of her. Doggett couldn't blame him.

The ceremony had been short and sweet. After the couple had
exchanged rings, Mrs. Scully brought William up to the altar
to join with his parents. The baby had stayed amazingly
quiet throughout, and once in the arms of his mother started
gurgling happily, sharing his parents obvious joy. A joy
that Doggett knew would not last; Skinner had told him
Mulder was planning on leaving that night for parts
unknown...with Marita Covarrubias. His wedding night, and
the man was going away with another woman. Doggett just
couldn't fathom it.

After the ceremony, the wedding party, and the few guests
that had attended it, met at a nearby pub to celebrate.
Laughter and music had filled the old bar, and Doggett
gladly joined in, allowing his concerns to sit unnoticed in
the back of his mind for a little while. As evening had
neared, he finally managed to get the tiring Scully onto the
dance floor. He clearly remembered their discussion, which
she had started:

"What's wrong?"

Doggett looked down into a pair of worried blue eyes.
"Nothing."

Scully smiled. "Yeah, right. Nothing is the reason you
suddenly became stiff as a board."

For one second, Doggett misinterpreted her words and felt
his face heat. At her amused snort, her realized she was not
talking about what he thought she had been talking about but
about his whole body. 'Damn,' he thought. 'Did I just give
myself away?' He glanced off to the side where Mulder was
chatting with Margaret Scully and her daughter-in-law. 

"Don't worry," Scully said softly. "He's much too
preoccupied to care about what you're thinking. Besides, he
promised not to delve into anybody's mind tonight."

Doggett looked at her again, wary now. "You don't seem upset
that your...husband...can read minds."

Her eyebrows rose. "Should I be?"

Doggett shrugged. "Well, you've always seemed to be such a
private person."

She smiled again. "Yeah. I am."

"Then the fact that he can 'see' your secrets should bother
you."

She shook her head. "John - can I call you John? - you can
prevent a telepath from reading your thoughts. There are
easy ways to block them out. In fact, I found it much more
difficult to let down those barriers than to keep them up."
She gave him a wistful smile. "Besides, Mulder and I have no
secrets between us. Not anymore."

"So you know the real reason he's going away with
Covarrubias tonight?" Doggett knew his voice had hardened,
and he did nothing to apologize for it.

"Yes, I do. And as strange as it sounds to you, I understand
why he has to go, and I am okay with it." Despite her words,
there was a deep sadness in her eyes.

"Where's he going, Dana?"

She sighed. "CGB Spender is alive," Scully whispered. "I
know you know that name." She waited for his nod of
affirmation. "Mulder's going to make a deal with him. To
keep Will and myself safe."

"Are you saying this Spender is behind Teresa Hoese's death?
The abduction of her child?"

She nodded.

"And Covarrubias?"

"She's worked with Spender before. She's acting as the
go-between." She glanced away from him for a moment, and
Doggett had a funny feeling inside his gut that told him she
wasn't telling him the truth. Or at least not all of it.

"When's he coming back?"

"Within the week."

"Why now?" he pushed. "Why does he have to go tonight?"

"Spender gave him a deadline, and he has to meet it."

"And the wedding couldn't wait until he got back?"

Scully swallowed and blinked quickly, as if chasing away
sudden tears. "We decided that Mulder would have a better
chance convincing Spender to leave us alone if
we...officiated...our familial status."

Doggett stayed silent for a moment. Then, meeting her sad
gaze, he said, "You're lying."

The music had stopped then, and without responding to his
accusation, Scully thanked him for the dance and made her
way swiftly toward Mulder. Before she had even reached him,
her new husband had turned to face her, concern evident on
his face. Almost as if he knew what she was thinking. 

Of course he did, Doggett told himself. He's a telepath.

Now he was accompanying Reyes, Skinner and the three stooges
in helping Scully and William say farewell to Mulder and
Covarrubias. Why he was bothering to do so, he couldn't say.
He could have said his farewells at the pub and gone home,
as had all the other guests. But, like Monica, he felt a
certain sense of loyalty to the couple and their child; a
need to protect.

The autumn night was cold, but not quite freezing. The air
was moist, however, and puffs of steam appeared as if by
magic whenever someone breathed out. The pilot of the little
Cessna started the engine and Covarrubias, who had been
silent and sober all night, climbed aboard. He thought he
heard the little guy, Frohike, ask her about a baby, but she
ignored him and disappeared inside the plane. 

Mulder and Scully stood off to the side facing each other,
little Will tucked between them. Mulder had his head lowered
just enough for their foreheads to meet. No words were
spoken between them. Doggett knew now that none were needed.
With a sniff, Scully raised her face and pressed her lips to
Mulder's. Doggett looked away, unable to watch any longer.

Mulder finally boarded the plane without a backward glance.

The small group walked back toward the hanger at the edge of
the runway, where they stood silently watching the plane
taxi along to its end. It turned, sped up, and soon became
one with the air.

Doggett looked at Scully. She was looking down at her son, a
lone tear on her cheek. Whatever secrets she was keeping
from him, and most likely the others, her sadness at
Mulder's departure was real.

"Oh, my God!"

"Shit!"

Byers' and Langly's exclamations caused Doggett to turn his
attention from Scully and towards where the plane's lights
should have been fading in the night sky. Scully also looked
up.

There, in the sky where the plane should have been, was a
ball of orange light. It faded quickly, but the fire falling
from the sky would be visible in Doggett's minds eye for
many years to come.

As would the gut-wrenching scream from the woman at his
side.

"MULDER!!!!!"

*****

End Part 6/7

Let's Face the Music and Dance-Part 7/7
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

"Go There With You"

I know you've heard me say these words before
But every time I say I love you,
The words mean something more
I spoke them as a promise
Right from the start
I said death would be the only thing
That could tear us apart

And now that you are standing
On the edge of the unknown
I love you means I'll be with you
Wherever you must go

I will take a heart whose nature
Is to beat for me alone
And fill it up with you -
Make all your joy and pain my own
No matter how deep
A valley you go through
I will go there with you

I will give myself to love the way
Love gave itself for me
I would climb with you to mountaintops
Or swim a raging sea
To the place where one heart is made from two
I will go there with you

I see it in the tears
You wonder where you are
The wind is growing colder
And the sky is growing dark
Though it's something neither of us
Understands
We can walk through this together
If we hold each other's hand

I said for better or for worse
I'd be with you
So no matter where you're going
I will go there too

I will take a heart whose nature
Is to beat for me alone
And fill it up with you -
Make all your joy and pain my own
No matter how deep
A valley you go through
I will go there with you

I will give myself to love the way
Love gave itself for me
I would climb with you to mountaintops
Or swim a raging sea
To the place where one heart is made from two
I will go there with you

I know sometimes I let you down
But I won't let you go
We'll always be together

- Steven Curtis Chapman

*****

EPILOGUE

Three Months Later

Maggie Scully was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her
daughter's living room playing with her grandson when she
heard a knock at the door. Knowing Dana was in her
bedroom/office working on an overdue autopsy report, Maggie
didn't want to disturb her. Standing, she walked toward the
door, watching Will's reaction as she did so. The boy was
watching her with wide, unconcerned eyes that looked eerily
like his father's. 

"Who is it, Will?" she asked softly. 

Any other grandmother would have meant this as a rhetorical
question, but not Maggie. The baby's eyebrows shot up and a
grin formed on his face. Though he couldn't speak, yet, his
level of understanding was significant. And Maggie saw his
response as a positive thing. It was someone he knew.
Someone he liked.

Looking through the peephole, Maggie recognized John Doggett
instantly. With a smile ready on her face, she opened the
door. "John!"

"Hello, Mrs. Scully," he said with a grin of his own,
entering the apartment as she stepped aside. "Is Dana here?"

"Yes," Maggie said. "I'll get her." Maggie knew the
apartment was small enough she could just call out to her
daughter, but it was so much more civilized to fetch the
person in question. It was a habit she had tried desperately
to drill into her children with only partial success.
Walking down the hallway, Maggie opened the door and peeked
inside. "Dana? John's here to see you."

Her daughter glanced up from the computer, which she had
moved to her bedroom only a month before, after Will's crib
had been moved to the guest room...now his room. Her eyes
were shadowed and her hair was pulled back into a messy
ponytail. "What's he want?"

Maggie frowned. "I didn't ask," she said firmly, crossing
her arms. 

Dana gave her a faint grin. "Sorry. Guess I need a
secretary, huh?"

She rose from her desk and stepped past her mother toward
the living room. John had seated himself on the sofa and was
talking to a grinning Will. The baby picked up a wooden
block with the letter 'D' on it and handed it to the agent.
John frowned slightly, his gaze contemplative.

"Yes," Dana said softly. "He meant to give you the 'D'. For
Doggett."

John looked at her, his astonishment evident. "He's only
nine months old."

"And your point...?"

Maggie laughed and moved to sit back down next to the little
boy. "He's very precocious," she explained.

"That's an understatement," John mumbled. He stood and
handed the file he was carrying to Dana. "It's the final
report on the explosion."

Maggie stilled suddenly, watching her daughter with
concerned eyes.

Dana took the folder from him. "Final? It's closed?"

John nodded. "I'm sorry. But the findings are official. No
survivors."

Dana stared at him, her jaw tightening. Without opening the
folder, she turned away. "I won't accept that." Maggie could
tell her daughter was talking through clenched teeth.

"Scully--"

Dana turned a glare on her former partner. She refused to be
called by that name anymore. It was either Dana or Agent
Mulder. Not Scully. Not anymore.

"Dana," John started over. "I know it's hard--"

"I found his dead body once, John. I watched as they put him
into the ground. I WILL NOT believe he's dead...even if you
*had* found a body. Which you didn't."

John sighed and looked down at the baby, who was now
watching them with worry. Maggie wondered, as she often did,
how much the boy understood.

With a sharp nod, John headed for the door, taking the file
from Dana as he walked by her. "I'll see you later."

Maggie cast a pleading glance toward her daughter.

Dana met it, sighed, and turned toward him. "John."

John turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Thank you for your concern." Dana offered him a small
smile.

Returning her smile, he nodded, then left.

Dana sighed again, looked at her son, who teasingly blew a
raspberry at her, then turned toward her room once again.
"I'll be done in a bit," she told Maggie. "Then we can
bundle up and go play in the snow." Maggie knew she was
speaking out loud for her sake, not her child's. Will
already knew what she was thinking.

As Maggie watched her go with worried eyes, she noticed how
her daughter's fingers kept reaching up to play with the
cross around her neck. Only, it wasn't around her neck
anymore. It hadn't been for three months.

Maggie had never gotten the courage to ask Dana where it had
gone.

*****

El Creyente Base
Southern Arizona

Dr. Susan Donahue sat down in one of the several chairs that
circled the round table in the main conference room. She was
wearing black, as were most of the others in the room, in
respect for the man they had buried just that morning. CGB
Spender had finally kicked the bucket. And though she was
more relieved than saddened by his death, she knew she
needed to present an air of mourning. After all, he had been
the only one between the earth and invasion...once upon a
time.

Across the room, several men entered...if one wanted to call
them men. They had once gone by the names Billy Miles, Ray
Hoese and Knowle Rohrer. Now, they were simply guards.
Protectors of the Council and the children. There were
thirteen children now. Three more babies had been discovered
since the transitional period had begun a few months ago.
All were results of the Syndicate's tests on three former
employees, two of which were now dead, one the newest member
of the Council. All but one of the children were now in
Susan's care. Three of the children's birth parents had
joined the Council and helped her in the care and early
education of the talented babies. Not that they needed any
help in learning; her own Wesley, at only one month over
two-years-old, could already add and subtract, and was
beginning to read on his own, without any real
encouragement.

A handful of men and women entered the room and moved to
their chairs. They were silent and moved with abnormal
grace. The Grays. Attending the meeting in human form in
order to keep their associates comfortable. Serious and
incredibly observant, the Grays didn't need to talk aloud,
but chose to do so as it was easier for them to get their
ideas across to those humans who resisted the mind
probes...as she did. Besides, only two men could 'speak'
back to them...and one was dead.

A tall blonde woman entered cautiously behind them. Catching
Susan's eye, she made her way around the table and sat in
the chair next to her. When the woman had first arrived, she
had been sick and terrified. It had taken weeks for her, and
her tiny daughter, to settle in. Now, she looked calm and
collected. Ready to face whatever was thrown her way. Susan
couldn't help but admire the woman; it wasn't easy to face
these creatures every day and pretend to be their friend.
'Especially when one of those creatures looks like the
father of your child,' Susan thought, casting a glance at
one of the replicants, who wore the face of a man she once
loved.

The few quiet discussions that had been going on throughout
the room faded as a new person entered and made his way to
the head of the table. Standing behind his chair, he looked
carefully around the room, meeting the eye of everyone
present, even the replicants. His gaze was steady, unafraid,
determined. Confident.

The look of a man in charge.

As he sat down and began to talk about the business at hand,
she watched him reach up and finger the tiny gold cross that
hung around his neck.

Susan felt a smile play at her lips and fought to control
it. He *was* in charge now. 

Thank God.

THE END

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