Absit Invidia - Part 2
   
   The days pass smoothly for the most part. We have a few problems. Some
   kind of buzzing flies make life miserable outside for a week or so.
   They're gone as fast as they arrive. One bad storm drops a tree on the
   Lodge...gaping hole in the roof. We work to salvage what we can before
   nature encroaches and there's nothing left to salvage. The four intact
   cabins become our storage facilities. We're doing pretty good
   actually. Walter and Scully figure that we should be ok food-wise at
   least until the baby comes...which should be October at the latest but
   then...we'll need to hope the garden is bountiful and the game still
   plentiful or...we'll have to fan out and find more food...or...we know
   the alternatives...we'll do whatever it takes. We always have and we
   always will.
   
   Walter turns 48 in June. Scully bakes a cake this time...we do have
   our choice still of boxed cakes that were in the Lodge kitchen. I
   wonder if the guests ever knew they were getting instant coffee and
   boxed cake mixes. Walter's cake is German chocolate too.
   Well...chocolate is the preferred drug around here I guess. There
   isn't much in the way of gifts because he insists we keep it low key.
   I think he's...angsting a little about getting older. I noticed he has
   to take his glasses off to read up close lately. Bifocal time. So, we
   downplay things a little. I clean his Smith and Wesson which we ran
   out of ammo for long ago but I know he likes to keep up. Scully cuts
   his hair and later takes him to bed and I can hear him protesting
   because he's a little afraid to be with her in her condition now. But
   they spoon together and make love, and he enters her gently and not
   deeply from behind, and I know why she did it...when they come back
   downstairs there's more of a swagger to his step and I know he's not
   feeling like an old fart any longer.
   
   Life pretty much centers around the baby coming. Practical matters.
   Walter constructs a cradle of sorts. He puts a board in the bottom of
   a wooden fruit crate. Puts some blankets in it...and some rabbit skins
   he found up in the Lodge. These were store purchased for Lodge
   ambiance of course. I chuckle. The kid's going to look like Bugs
   Bunny. I put a piece of foam rubber in a pillowcase over the skins and
   he nods in satisfaction, slaps me on the back. "That'll do for a bed,"
   he rumbles. Maternity clothes were a trick. Scully wears Walter's
   shirts at first. Later some of the summer Lodge guest clothes fit. One
   guy had a hell of a beer belly...and I think his wife resembled
   Roseanne Barr.
   
   So, Scully's comfortable...although she bemoans her appearance. It's
   hormones even though she's a trooper. She cries more...is moody...gets
   cravings. Walter's a rock...so patient...sometimes...I'm less so
   but...I'm doing pretty good. In August and September we start heavily
   harvesting the garden. Sun drying tomatoes, freezing some of the other
   vegetables. Scully makes a valiant effort to help but by this time
   she's tiring more easily...and she's big and yeah...kind of ungainly
   and...she's upset she can't stay out there but she sits inside,
   bagging veggies and manning the radio while Walter and I bring in the
   harvest and she feels a little more useful. Then, one night after
   Scully's asleep, Walter claps me on the back and says..."It won't be
   long now," and then we both realize what he said and we swallow hard.
   Christ. We don't even know for sure when she conceived and she's huge
   and yeah...it could happen any minute and...
   
   Discussion about delivery. "Damn it, Walter, I don't know anything
   about delivering a baby." I whine...trying not to sound like Butterfly
   McQueen in 'Gone with the Wind'. "I mean I've had the First Aid
   courses but...this is way different," I add. "Well...I've delivered
   two babies," Walter confesses. "One was in Nam but the other was just
   before I made AD. So...I know a little about it. I had the courses
   too, of course," he admits. "Scully's a doctor...she helped deliver a
   baby when we were in Florida once," I reply. He raises an eyebrow,
   gruff snort. "I'm not sure she's going to be in a position to help
   much this go around," he advises. I shrug. "Well, we'd better get some
   supplies together," I suggest. "Yeah...there's some rubbing
   alcohol...we need to sharpen the scissors for cutting the cord," I
   add. "I think it's a good idea if we put everything in the loft,"
   Walter advises. I nod and then I add, quietly..."Christ Walter...what
   about the pain and..." I don't want to say what if she needs a
   C-section...I mean she's so petite and...we're not and...Walter fixes
   me with a measured look and I know he's thinking the same thing.
   "She's going to have to bite the bullet, Mulder. We don't have
   anything that's safe to administer for the pain." I nod and the only
   thing I can think of is women have been giving birth for centuries,
   even in the African bush and God...we have got to get through this,
   and then...on October 11th, 2001, 11 PM...
   
   I wake up and Scully's standing by the side of the bed and her panties
   are soaked and liquid is dripping and...Oh shit..."Walter!" I yelp,
   jump out of bed and go to her, and he wakes up and Scully says, "Calm
   down...it's normal...my water broke," and then she winces...she's in
   labor. "How long?" Walter asks, getting up, and grabbing his briefs
   and glasses. "I've been feeling...twinges all day but...I couldn't be
   sure. I guess I am now," she replies, her voice strained. Walter gives
   a curt nod. I just stand there...staring...paralyzed. Walter shoves
   his glasses on...pulls on his underwear, looks at me. "Mulder...put
   your pants on and then go boil some water," he orders. I snap out of
   it, snap to it...dress, turn and run down the loft stairs. Sure I know
   that's what they tell the panicked husbands to do...so?
   
   I throw some more wood on the fire, and think it's lucky it gets cool
   now at night because it's going to get hot in here. I open a window a
   little since they're screened over. I put on the water. Everything
   else is upstairs already and when I come back up with the bucket
   holding the handle in a towel, Scully's lying on the bed, naked but
   under a sheet. Her stomach looks like one of the snow-covered
   mountains around here. The bed's a little wet. I'm glad we brought a
   spare mattress down from the Lodge. We're going to need it I think as
   Walter takes the bucket...sets it on the floor, dumps a little alcohol
   in it, and then reaches for one of the cloths and the bar of soap that
   are on the night stand. He glances at Scully's stomach...his eyes
   wander lower. "I'm going to...uh..." he swallows...embarrassed and I
   almost laugh. This is the guy who's been doing her doggie style over
   the kitchen table? But then I don't smirk because I realize to Walter
   this is different now...she's vulnerable, and she's about to become
   the mother of his child...well 50/50 chance but you know what I mean.
   "Help me clean up," Scully finishes for him and lays a hand over his.
   "Yeah," he nods. Between the three of us we get her up and over to the
   chair we've placed in the corner. Sit her down. Walter washes
   her...upper and lower and then washes his hands and arms up to his
   elbows, and I lay clean sheets on the bed...towels over the small wet
   area that's there, and then I wash up too. Finally we dry ourselves
   off and Scully too with a big fluffy towel and back to the bed and
   then...we wait and...she labors. Christ...
   
   She's in labor for hours...we take turns, wiping her brow, rubbing her
   stomach and back...giving her ice to suck on from the freezer in the
   fridge. Anything she needs. We talk with her at first, joking, keeping
   her spirits up. Hours of light labor and then things pick up, and
   she's very uncomfortable, and we're both up on the bed so she can take
   our hands when the contractions are rough. It's hard to watch and at
   one point I go downstairs to use the can, and get fresh water in the
   bucket, but really just to get away for a minute or two, and then
   Walter does the same. It's hard to watch the person you love suffer so
   much and I tell her and she laughs ruefully, gasping a little and
   says, "It's no picnic, believe me, Mulder, but...I want this baby more
   than anything right now," and I kiss her and tell her, "So do I,
   Scully, and I know Walter does too," and she smiles and says, "He said
   the same thing just before you came back upstairs."
   
   Walter was wrong about her not being able to help. At first she can
   and she asks Walter to remove the sheet so she can see herself, and
   then I sit next to her, and he holds her hand, and she tries to
   describe what it feels like, and what she knows may be happening, and
   we run down the drill. When to not let her push and when to let her
   push. We can't do an episiotomy so if she tears, we'll have to do the
   best we can to stitch her up...we have needle and thread from the
   Lodge...and don't forget about the afterbirth and how to cut the cord
   and I'm getting focused and not as nervous as I was and...it's been
   almost 15 hours, but now I can tell we're getting there because the
   contractions are harder and close together and...
   
   Walter has a suggestion. He tells us that in Nam the woman he helped
   with squatted to give birth. Gravity helps and Scully smiles weakly
   and gasps..."Not a bad idea," so we shift things a bit and I support
   her back on the bed and scoot her close to the foot, right on the edge
   and her feet are up on the mattress, legs spread...God...that has to
   be...embarrassing for her but...we're beyond that really now, and she
   rests against me, and smiles weakly before the next contraction.
   Walter sits on the floor between her legs...and still she labors.
   
   Finally the pain has to be so bad, and I hold her tight against me
   because I know she's fighting it. I look down at Walter and he has his
   hands on her knees, her legs spread wide, and...she's panting...and I
   don't know what to do for her, and Walter's low, steady voice...voice
   of authority, and control and comfort..."Scully this is hard
   labor...if you have to scream, scream...we won't care," and she does
   and it's...Christ she's yelling like a banshee and cursing
   me...cursing Walter...cursing us both for getting her in this
   predicament, and Walter just nods and takes it, and I hold her hand
   and she squeezes it almost hard enough to break my fingers.
   
   And she strains...tries to bear down, gasping,
   wordless...grunting...primal sounds and Walter is yelling at her,
   voice of command just like in the old days..."DON'T PUSH! DON'T PUSH
   YET!" and Scully groaning, "My God...I...I need to push," and Walter
   yelling, "GOD DAMN IT, NO!" when she won't stop, and it works and
   Scully slacks off a few moments until the next wave. I wipe her brow
   and she arches against me...panting and I say without even realizing
   it, "Oh shit...here we go again," and Walter's calm, controlled voice
   rumbling, "Ok...this is a contraction...now...push,"...and pressing
   just above her pubic bone. "It's ok...I can feel the head in here,
   it's in the right direction," reassuring her and she nods,
   panting...unable to speak and grunting again, and then Walter feeling
   her groin and then her cunt and finally..."Ok, I can see the top of
   the head. Push again now...hard...as hard as you can."
   
   And she arches back against me, her face and neck
   straining...."Christ...it's coming," Walter's excited voice, "Come on
   Scully...you're doing great, push hard," he coaches. She nods and
   gasps...whining...as she bears down...I try to bend forward and see,
   but I can't, and I have to hold Scully as she bears down again, and
   then again, and I tell her I love her and Scully moans "I love you
   both so much," and finally she's laughing and sobbing and Walter's
   saying..."God...he's beautiful!"
   
   It's a boy!? And I see it is and I think right away...thank God...he's
   not huge at all...and he starts to howl and I laugh, and look at
   Walter, and blurt out..."Christ he's bald and he even sounds like
   you...has to be yours," and Walter and I are laughing like hell, and
   Scully asks me to lay her down flat and I do, and Walter pulls the
   baby up, cord and all and lays him bloody and bawling lustily on
   Scully's stomach. Scully looks up at me, her eyes full of love and
   whispers..."Happy Birthday, Mulder", and I grin wide because holy
   shit, she's right, it's October 13th and...what a 40th birthday gift
   and then she adds, "You should cut the ccord," stuttering, exhausted
   but smiling wide. She's checking over the little guy's fingers and
   toes while I go for the scissors. Walter murmuring, "There wasn't any
   tearing...you're doing fine, Scully," and Scully mumbling, voice full
   of love, and relief, and joy in three simple words..."We did it."
   
   Walter helps and I manage to take the scissors, and needle, and thread
   out of the bowl filled with alcohol, and clamp, and then cut the cord
   and stitch up the tiny bit that's left without a problem. Clean the
   little belly button off with soap and water, and then start to swab
   him off all over. Scully groans. "The afterbirth," she gasps out. I
   take the baby, place him in the cradle next to the bed...grab a towel
   from the night stand. Walter helps Scully to sit up again and several
   hard pushes and finally the afterbirth flops out into the towel where
   I hold it between her thighs. A bloody hunk of tissue. I fold the
   towel up and lay it aside. Walter lays her gently down again and I
   check on the baby, who's now quiet and watching the action like he's
   fascinated, but still bloody and sticky. "We've got to clean this up,"
   I tell Walter and he stands and nods.
   
   xXx
   
   In short order the floor is clean, afterbirth tossed on the fire
   downstairs...it doesn't smell great but it's safer than throwing it
   outside where it might attract the wrong kind of animals. We'll try to
   wash the laundry later...or burn it more likely since there's so much
   blood. Walter helps Scully up, supports her with strong arms so she
   can use the other bucket we have rigged up. While she pees I finish
   cleaning up the baby and the bloody cradle bedding. I pop him into his
   dry little nest at last. Little howler...I know he's hungry. Eyes all
   scrunched shut. Lastly, I drag the mattress off and toss it down over
   the banisters. It lands with a dull thwack on the wood floor below.
   Wrestle the clean mattress onto the bed. Walter helps Scully sit in
   the wooden chair in the corner and bathes her again. We get her back
   to the bed, towels under her and between her legs to absorb any
   residual bleeding, and then Walter looks in the cradle. "He needs a
   diaper," he chuckles, clapping me on the back. Oh. Yeah. "I barely
   remember seeing my mother diaper Sam," I mumble and shrug. Walter
   nods. "Well...I'm an uncle...I kind of know how this goes," he
   advises...I touch his arm...the words are light but...heavy with
   implication...'I am an uncle...I was an uncle', he lays his hand over
   mine for a moment. "Let's get a clean towel. We can improvise
   something," he adds, with a small smile.
   
   Finally, Scully and the baby are bathed and clean and in bed together
   and...the baby is diapered...little hunk of toweling tied around his
   hips. Scully has one of the beer belly guy's button-up shirts on and
   after a couple of moments of fumbling on Scully's part and then my
   ham-fisted attempt to help...the baby is having his first meal. Walter
   and I sit on either side of Scully as the baby nurses, Walter near his
   head.
   
   He runs one large hand over the baby's tiny cranium. "We never talked
   about names," he murmurs, removing his hand. "No...no we didn't,"
   Scully replies softly, kissing the baby's naked scalp and...he lets go
   of her nipple...opens his eyes and looks right at me and you know...I
   get a really good look at his eyes and relaxed face and I was joking
   before about him being Walter's but now...I reply quietly, "Maybe
   Walter might be a good idea." They both look at me and I gesture at
   the baby. His eyes are the color of a Cadbury chocolate bar...dark
   chocolate...just like Walter's eyes. "Most babies' eyes are that kind
   of weird bluish color but...brown is dominant so...sometimes..." I let
   my voice trail off...shrug. Even the kid's nose looks more like
   Walter's snubbed one more than my beak or Scully's slightly patrician
   one.
   
   October 13th. If I count back I could almost make a case for the baby
   being conceived that morning I made a cup of coffee to celebrate
   Walter's recovery with Scully in the loft. And if I stopped to
   consider I'd also know that for almost two weeks after that neither of
   us was with her because all three of us had colds then and sex was the
   last thing on our minds. I look up at Walter and I can see the wheels
   turning in his mind as well. Scully looks from one to the other of us
   and when she speaks it's the perfect solution. "We didn't talk about
   names but I have been giving it some thought actually. You know...if
   you two don't mind...I'd like to call him Charles. He was always my
   favorite brother to be honest. I was thinking...Margaret or Melissa
   for a girl and Charles for a boy. I could have chosen Bill I suppose
   after my father, but...well that's Bill Jr. too...and I know Mulder
   would have had a cow," she adds. I chuckle. "I think that sounds
   great," Walter replies, nodding. "But I think...really...to be fair it
   should be Charles Scully-Skinner or...Skinner-Scully or whatever," I
   mumble, playing with the boy's little hand. Strong grip of little
   fingers but...he's getting drowsy now...tummy full. "Charles Mulder
   Skinner," Walter's deep voice replies. "Mulder makes a good middle
   name," he adds and I look up and Scully smiles. "There you go," she
   agrees and Walter smiles and I...I feel tears clog the back of my
   throat and I smile too.
   
   xXx
   
   Later as Scully sleeps upstairs, Charles in the cradle sleeping too,
   Walter and I sit downstairs in front of the fire...a little
   shell-shocked again. Silent for quite some time. Bourbons in hand.
   Dazed smiles. "Congratulations," I finally muster. I can tell
   he's...pleased beyond words really, but..."We might be wrong...there's
   no way of telling for sure without a blood test. I mean we can try to
   determine as he ages but...kids change..." he begins. I smile and
   shake my head a little and he stops talking. "Walter...I really do
   think he's yours. I did the math. The timing's right for the morning
   you and Scully were up in the loft...the first time you made love
   after your recovery," I tell him quietly.
   
   Walter takes a sip of bourbon...puts the glass down on the coffee
   table and runs a hand over his scalp. "I kind of had that idea all
   along to be honest, Mulder. I guess...yeah...thanks...I guess we're
   both right," he replies with a rueful smile. I smirk...time for some
   gentle teasing. "And you thought you were over the hill...you
   dog...and right after getting over nearly dying too," I chuckle. "Fuck
   you," he growls and then we both laugh at the connotations there. We
   lapse into silence again and then Walter speaks seriously. "Speaking
   of which...from here on out Mulder...she's fertile...things...things
   in that area are going to have to..."
   
   Oh man...I think..."Oh shit...yeah...we don't have any protection..."
   I let my voice trail off.
   
   Walter straightens up and clears his throat. When he speaks I see AD
   Skinner assert himself and I feel my stomach flutter. I think I know
   what's coming...all the way down the line and I know I've been
   dreading it but it's inevitable. "Mulder...I've been doing a lot of
   thinking about that and a lot of things over the last month or so. We
   need to...if she's capable of having more children we need to practice
   some restraint here...something to keep her from popping out kids...or
   we'll all be in big trouble. And not only that...even if she wants to
   have another baby...man...I don't know. Hell...I don't want to risk it
   again. This went well...but next time..." his voice trails off. "We
   need medical help...I mean besides Scully," I reply. "Exactly," he
   sighs. "And besides the whole baby issue...if anything should happen
   where we need medical help at all..." And before he can continue I
   reply quietly, "I hear you."
   
   Logical to a fault, Walter. And God knows before during and now after
   the fact...I was scared shitless something would go wrong and to be
   honest...the idea of sex right now...unless it was with Walter takes
   on a whole new angle...like scared shitless there too. And
   Christ...how would Scully feel about it? If I made her pregnant and
   there were complications from the pregnancy...ah...fuck it. My mind is
   racing, but then Walter is continuing to speak, and I yank my
   attention back to him.
   
   "Besides that issue...we have to consider other factors here.
   Non-edible supplies are a mixed bag. We seem to have a lot of gas left
   in that underground tank...the well's fine. But other things are
   running low. We can conserve but...things like toothpaste are going to
   go here before long. You know we have enough food supplies left to eat
   well...nutritionally well for the baby I mean into February...maybe.
   After that...it'll be half rations but the food's not going to last
   into summer. We're not set up to grow a substantial amount even though
   we saved the seeds from the garden. Game's in good supply...I suppose
   we could try to live off the land...but, Mulder...food's going to
   be...this isn't going to work for Scully. She's going to need to keep
   producing as much milk as possible and that means..." he lets his
   voice trail off again, jaw tense.
   
   We have to find another way. I think we've both known this and Scully
   has known it too. In fact we've all talked about it in roundabout
   ways...but circumstances kept us from any serious discussion. We felt
   we couldn't very well leave here with a pregnant woman so for better
   or worse we waited until the baby was here. Now that the baby's born
   leaving won't be easy but Scully will be good to travel as soon as
   she's recovered her strength...and...she's going to have to recover it
   quickly.
   
   "You're saying we need to leave," I reply. "Yeah," he replies. I sigh.
   "I've been thinking about it too," I reply. Walter nods and continues.
   "I think we need to go South before the snow falls. I...I don't want
   to risk it but...I don't see any other choice." I nod. "South Dakota,"
   I reply. "Yeah...Pierre...even if we can't contact that guy. We at
   least know there were people there," Walter states. "We need to get on
   that radio," I advise. "Right. But...I think we need to prepare to
   leave here by November 15th at the latest...after that we can't count
   on the weather...I still have those maps we found in the Lodge...and
   the compass of course...we can use those to navigate to civilization,"
   he finishes. "We need to talk to Scully," I reply. He nods.
   "Tomorrow," he rumbles.
   
   xXx
   
   Walter holds his son on his shoulder...pats his back while Scully
   tucks her tit back into her sweater. Zips her coat up. Charles burps
   lustily and I chuckle a little as Walter wipes his mouth with a
   Kleenex. "He sounds like you more every day," I quip. Walter rumbles a
   chuckle as well and tosses the Kleenex away. He holds Charles...or
   Charlie but never Chuck, just like it would never be Walt...and to be
   honest...Scully and I don't like Chuck either...out in front of him,
   and the baby gurgles and smiles and pumps his legs a little in his
   cobbled together 'onesie'. Walter grins into his face. "Well...don't
   listen to your Uncle Mulder, big man...just keep belching. You don't
   want to end up popping Pepcid-AC like your old man," he jokes. I smile
   and so does Scully. Even with everything we've been through, one thing
   Walter Skinner hasn't needed since we left the Hoover far behind is an
   antacid.
   
   "Can you hold him for a few more minutes...I need to find the Ladies
   Room," Scully replies. "Oh...uh..." Walter wrinkles his brow. I laugh
   harder. "Both of you? Here...give the poor kid to me. I'll hold him
   while his parents make like leaky faucets." Walter and Scully both
   give me the look and then we all laugh and Charlie makes some kind of
   weird birdlike sound and Walter hands him over. He wiggles in my
   arms...man the kid's strong, you know. "Be right back," Scully
   comments. Walter and Scully walk off to find a bush or tree and I slip
   Charlie into the carrier that hangs over my chest. All of us have
   papoose pouches for him. Scully came up with that idea and sewed the
   prototype together before we left. First town we hit on the road
   though we jury-rigged some soft sided backpacks for the job and they
   work even better. When one of us tires someone else can play kangaroo.
   He's a good baby...he never fusses...and even if he did...it wouldn't
   matter. I really like holding my little nephew close.
   
   It's December 16. We waited a few extra weeks to leave the cabin. We
   wanted Scully to recover more fully. When the weather stayed
   unseasonably warm we took the chance it would hold, and so far so
   good. It's been in the 50s and 60s. So, we left our little home early
   on December 1. We've only been on the road for a short time, but we're
   managing. Easy stages. We rest often. The maps tell us where the
   pockets of civilization are and we've skirted larger towns and
   anything resembling a city. We've passed through a couple of tiny
   villages. One...Fort Royale was still pretty much intact. No
   people...no salvageable vehicles...but usable supplies. Most
   notably...ammo because they had a gun shop. Our service revolvers are
   reloaded and we carry them now. Each of us carries a rifle too and we
   brought the shotgun and extra rifle along as well.
   
   Before we left, we built a travois and that's what Walter and I are
   hauling...like pack mules...but at least it's on wheels now. Once we
   left the woods and hit the highway and dirt roads we put the wheels
   on. Amazing what you can do with a couple of old wheelbarrow wheels,
   some tarps, poles, screws, bolts and ingenuity. The scavenged supplies
   from Fort Royale are on the travois along with the shotgun and the
   ammo for all the weapons. Tent, sleeping bags, warmer clothing, food,
   water. We wanted to take a Coleman stove but carrying the fuel is
   dangerous and cumbersome. Reluctantly, we rejected it. Each of us
   carries a light backpack as well...Scully's the lightest with just our
   first aid kit and diapers for the baby. The drugstore in Fort Royale
   was a break. We have a decent medical kit now...even a thermometer and
   stethoscope. Diapers, baby wipes. Condoms...2 boxes, 12 packs each. I
   haven't felt a twinge in that area to be honest. I'm not sure any of
   us are ready to go there. I haven't even thought about rockin' and
   rollin' with Walter much less Scully. All that's up to her anyway
   really. At least if we decide to go there we can take precautions now.
   But...we have other priorities and that's fine.
   
   We want to get to Pierre. We heard a very weak signal from there
   before we left...the same guy transmitting and even though we could
   hear him he couldn't hear us. His broadcast lasted about 8 hours,
   fading in and out, with him trying to contact anyone within range.
   So...we know they're out there...600 strong now and...God...it sounds
   like...we can hardly believe it...but...it sounds like mankind is
   fighting back.
   
   I look down at Charlie and he yawns wide and then shuts his eyes and I
   think...maybe this is going to be a brand new world, kid. A brave,
   great new world...and a chance to start over, and he's snoozing, and
   Walter and Scully come back and we pack up and hit the road again.
   
   xXx
   
   January 1. We crossed over into the old U. S. of A. today. Now I have
   to admit...it's cold. This is not good. All of us huddle in a grove of
   pine trees off the road. Scully holds Charlie and he's crying a
   little. He's cold I know and Scully puts him right in her coat...and
   he's better, latching onto her nipple for food, warmth and comfort and
   Walter scratches his bearded chin and says..."Get out the map again."
   I fumble my backpack off and unzip it. Fish around for the map we're
   using at this juncture. Take it out. All of us bend over it, even
   Charlie since he's tucked into Scully's coat.
   
   The landscape is bare...I mean...deserted and quite frankly it's
   creeping us out...there hasn't been anyone, anywhere. Granted we've
   avoided towns...only going in when absolutely necessary to gather
   supplies. We prefer to sweep and salvage farm homesteads or isolated
   developments which you could expect to lack inhabitants. But...all of
   them...everywhere? We can't even speculate. Besides...it's nearing
   dusk and we really do need to find shelter indoors.
   
   "We're close. This is Rugby. It's small. I think we have to risk it,"
   Scully cradles the baby. "I don't think we have a choice," she replies
   seriously. I nod. "Agreed," I reply and we fall back into the old
   ways...senses hyped...on high alert...but with a twist. This time...
   no one is on point. How can we be? It takes two of us to pull the
   travois and since Charlie is nursing heartily now...one of them can't
   be Scully. Neither Walter or I is excited about her going on
   point...and even though she bridles at the idea...she realizes she's
   Charlie's only really dependable food source. If she were to be...it
   doesn't even bear consideration really...and I don't want to think
   about it. So we walk, together...Scully at my side, and Walter and I
   pull the travois with one hand and hold our Smith and Wessons in the
   other.
   
   Rugby turns out not to be deserted although we think it is at first.
   Small village America. Rustic. We walk into the center of town...Main
   Street. The buildings show something went through here and none too
   gently. Ruins a lot of it. But...there's a mostly intact service
   station and convenience store across from the tiny one-story village
   Post Office, and it's intact too being brick and still locked up
   tighter than a drum. No tampering with Federal property...I'll tell
   you that for sure. We have to jimmy the lock. The door'll still shut
   but not tightly so we'll need a screamer alarm and rags to shove in
   the crack. No heat, naturally. But crazily, out back...two rusty Weber
   grills. I could laugh like hell if we weren't so desperate right now.
   The Shell station across the street renders up enough charcoal
   briquettes to supply a church picnic and lighter fluid as well as
   matches and some more of the ubiquitous Bic lighters to add to our
   stock of those. So, we're going to have heat and a hot meal I
   guess....I just hope the grills don't smoke too much. Venting could be
   a problem. We're just tired and cold enough to go for it though.
   
   Unload the travois...take in the supplies for safekeeping. Scully
   pitches in as best she can but all of us are reluctant to keep Charlie
   out in the cold so she goes in and sets up the grills in the postage
   stamp size room behind the service window. We might just be cozy I
   think as Walter and I go back outside to bring in the last load.
   That's when I see the dog. "Walter," I whisper and he looks up too.
   The dog is standing across the street in the parking lot of the Shell
   station. Not 50 feet away. "Hey...isn't that...isn't that a..." Walter
   whispers. "Dog..." I breathe out. "I know that..." he hisses...arched
   eyebrow. "I meant the breed...that's a..." he continues. "Pete," I
   reply. "What?" he looks at me confused as the dog stares at us.
   "Pete...from the Our Gang movies. I think it's called an American
   Staffordshire Terrier," I muse. "Thought so. Fucking...pit bull,"
   Walter blusters, slowly going for his handgun. "Hey...wait," I
   whisper. "He's just standing there," I add, hissing. "For now. I saw
   what those can do, Mulder. On a drug bust once. Nearly tore a guy's
   arm off. You don't want to screw with one," he insists, withdrawing
   his gun from the holster. I don't know what makes me do it but I reach
   across and grab his forearm. "No," I admonish him. "There's been
   enough death," I add quietly. He stares at me for a moment, anger
   flaring in his eyes but then his arm relaxes. Gun lowers. "All
   right...but if he shows any aggression whatsoever..." he hisses. "Ok,"
   I nod. We unload the last bundle from the travois and the dog watches
   us as we do.
   
   Scully holds Charlie on her hip and looks out the window into the
   dark. "He's still out there," she sighs, looking back at Walter and I
   where we add more charcoal to the Weber grills. Walter glances at me.
   "What's he doing?" he asks. "Lying under the service station overhang.
   He must be cold," she answers, turning away from the window. Walter
   shuts his eyes for a moment and I chuckle. "She said she wanted a dog,
   Walter," I tease them both. He opens his eyes and then shoots me the
   bird. Scully walks over and gives him a little kick in the insulated
   boot. I get a swift kick as well. "Cut me some slack, ok? I'm hormonal
   now. I'm entitled to get all...mushy." All three of us laugh. She goes
   back and sits down on her sleeping bag with the baby. Charlie doesn't
   have much to say because she sticks her tit in his mouth again.
   
   It's reasonably warm inside and we've eaten dinner - Charlie in
   process of course. This isn't going to be bad for the night at all.
   We'll need to take watch shifts but I think we can manage it. The dog
   is intriguing but...poignant. Just another reminder of what things
   must have been like here. Someone's family pet left behind and hanging
   around to watch maybe the first humans he's seen in months. He doesn't
   seem vicious or anything. We don't have to go outside again until
   morning because there's a toilet we can use inside here. So, let the
   fuzzy voyeur look all he wants. Even Walter has reconciled himself to
   being on 'doggie cam'.
   
   The day catches up with us. We move all the sleeping bags together in
   preparation for slipping into them. When we do...we'll only take off
   our boots. Scully changes Charlie's diaper and swabs him down all over
   with the wet baby wipes we got in the gas station's attached
   convenience store. Pretty soon the poor kid's going to need another
   bath. He gets them, but not nearly as regularly as we'd like. We all
   fret over cleanliness. The baby wipes will help. Walter fishes in his
   pocket and brings out a surprise. Hershey chocolate bars for all three
   of us and a little stuffed Pokeman toy for Charlie. The chocolate's a
   little stale but not bad. Walter holds Charlie on his lap and the kid
   is fascinated by old Picachu. Scully uses the time to clean her face a
   little and then she sits between my legs and lies back in my arms
   where I sit propped up against the wall.
   
   We watch Walter and Charlie and if anyone ever doubted that Walter S.
   Skinner is really a big softy they should see him now. Also...if there
   was any doubt that Charles is his son...they should see him now too.
   Spitting image. Oh there's something of Scully there too...around the
   mouth especially...and his lighter skin and freckles say Scully as
   well. But the rest...says Walter. Yup...Skinner's a dominate sire all
   right. I smile and Scully asks me what I'm thinking and I tell
   her...how happy I am even with everything that's happened to have the
   three of them. She reaches up and brushes my bangs out of my eyes,
   smiling. I bend down and kiss her gently on the lips. We settle back
   then and Walter hands the baby to Scully because he's getting sleepy.
   She cuddles him against her. "I'll take the first watch. Get some
   sleep," he tells us and we nod and lie down together in the sleeping
   bags...Charlie in with Scully. I pull them close, the baby on his back
   between us. We shut our eyes and wait for sleep. I hear Walter add
   some more charcoal to the grills.
   
   "Mulder...get up...it's your watch," Walter hisses and I come awake
   instantly but don't jerk. Scully and Charlie are sound asleep right
   next to me. I nod and gingerly move away and then out of my sleeping
   bag. I grit my teeth. Christ...I've got a massive hard-on. Must have
   been a good dream. Either that or the close proximity of Scully. I
   sigh. Well...I guess my body has a slightly different priority. I
   follow Walter out of the service area, my gun slung over my shoulder,
   and out into the miniscule lobby. "Everything's clear. Not a peep for
   hours. The dog went and came back. Other than that...nada. Quiet," he
   informs me. We stand by the bank of mailboxes. It's fairly warm out
   here even with the rags in the door. This building must be well
   insulated. I shift from foot to foot though, trying to rearrange my
   dick without being obvious about it. Walter notices however, eyebrow
   goes up. I glance down, can't help it and then so does he. Small sigh.
   "You going to be able to concentrate or you want to take care of that
   so you can?" he asks sympathetically.
   
   I redden slightly. "Shit...you know...I've been pretty good up until
   tonight...I...I guess...being that close to her and all..." I shrug.
   "I hear you. It happens," he nods. Slings his gun back over his
   shoulder, looks away. Clears his throat. "Uh...I could..." he begins.
   I shake my head. "No...I'll be ok." As much as I want him to touch me
   I'm half afraid that if he jerks me off I'll get sleepy. "I'm afraid
   it'll wear me out," I grin a little. He smiles back. "All right," he
   nods and starts to move away. Then...something obviously occurs to him
   and he turns back. "Wake her up this time, Mulder. No more pulling
   that double shift shit," he advises quietly. I raise a hand. "No
   worries. I know. I learned my lesson from that reaming she gave me
   last time." He grins and nods. "Thought so. Later," and then he's gone
   as I chuckle and unsling my rifle.
   
   xXx
   
   In the morning the dog is still there and Scully is outside tossing
   him some scraps of Spam from an early morning snack she fixed herself.
   I find her just outside the post office door, and the dog closer, in
   the street. "Walter's going to go ballistic if he sees you feeding
   Pete," I whisper, coming up behind her. I can't hug her because her
   rifle is slung over her back. "'I' didn't name him," she retorts and
   we both chuckle. The last scrap gets tossed and Pete lopes back across
   the street under the Service station overhang. "He's just afraid...I
   don't think he's vicious," she suggests as we stand there in the cold.
   It's not quite as cold though which I'm thankful to see. I observe the
   dog and notice he's not in very bad shape. He must have belonged to
   someone. He has a leather collar on but no tags. He must have a food
   source somewhere too or his ribs would be showing. "He looks like he's
   doing ok for himself. He'll be all right," I reply quietly. She looks
   at me, nods and then we hear Charlie crying inside. "I guess someone
   else wants his breakfast," she laughs gently. I smile and in a
   reflexive gesture move to place my hand in the small of her back to
   usher her inside, but I bump her rifle instead and give her a rueful
   grin and she looks at me tenderly. "I love you, Mulder...more and
   more...every day..." she murmurs. "I love you too, Scully...more than
   ever too," and she looks down shyly and proceeds me through the door.
   
   The dog follows us out of Rugby. Walter is pissed as hell. The mutt
   stays well back, though and after a while we cease to notice him. He
   doesn't come close, just seems to be content to pad along...watching
   as the four of us haul down the road. Man...I wish we could find
   transportation. But so many of the vehicles are gone or wrecked or
   without gas or if they've got full tanks we can't even hot-wire them
   for some reason...yes...Walter S. Skinner knows how to hot-wire a car.
   But...I suspect somewhere along the line there was a lot larger EMP
   pulse unleashed on the world...or at least over this part of the US
   because none of the machinery we come across functions at all.
   
   So, progress is slow and we stop often to allow us all to rest and
   feed the baby in relative peace and we even get to bathe him several
   times. He's always got a clean diaper and we're continually scavenging
   for baby wipes and Huggies or Pampers. We're lucky, he's hearty,
   healthy and surprisingly happy in this weird life he's leading.
   
   A couple of times when we stop for the night and Walter has watch, I
   touch Scully, kiss her a little and it's obvious she's not ready for
   it, and I have terrible guilt. Walter hasn't touched her sexually. I
   ask him and he says...no...the vibes he's gotten said it wasn't a good
   idea and I also get the idea he's not ready himself either. I chide
   myself again for being an unobservant 'wanker'. But Scully is sorry
   too and she tries to explain...the baby...the stress...I know it's
   fear too...and I feel like an utter shit. Walter tells me to cut the
   crap...I love her and she loves me...it's just circumstances and I
   nod, and we all move on.
   
   When we near Bismark, North Dakota, we get what may be the explanation
   for the monkey wrenched machinery. Blast crater...a fucking huge one.
   We all wonder if this was the ship we saw...crash landed this far
   away? Hard to say. Leery of radiation we make a wide detour but the
   thing is so huge we see the damage caused by it for miles away anyway.
   Walter pulls out the binoculars we picked up in the gun shop in Fort
   Royale. We take a look at the crash site from a distance.
   Grim...devastation. We have to think Bismark itself is totally
   destroyed. We move on...silent...even Charlie not making a sound and
   Pete pads after us like a shadowy testament to what was and will never
   be again.
   
   The days pass again...stretch into weeks and...our progress is slow
   but steady. The snow holds off which for us is Thanksgiving and
   Christmas rolled into one since we can't really celebrate them on the
   road. We have enough to eat and drink and the ammo is dry and we're
   thankful for those things too. Charlie's first Christmas eve is spent
   in his dad's papoose pouch listening to him sing "Silent Night" to
   keep our spirits up because God...he has a terrible voice, and Scully
   and I laugh really hard at him, as we try to find shelter somewhere
   before silent night becomes a grotesquely appropriate joke. Nightfall
   finds us in an old dairy barn and since the floor is concrete we risk
   a fire for a while...it helps but...it's friggin' cold as Walter would
   say since he doesn't like to curse in front of the kid. We actually
   set up the four man tent inside the barn, laying hay out under it for
   insulation, and Scully piles into the tent with Charlie and they're
   all wrapped up in sleeping bags, and Walter and I pile bales of hay
   around the tent for insulation too. For the first time...Pete the dog
   comes close...into the barn and I throw down some hay and an old cow
   blanket we find in the milk tank room. He makes a nest in the hay and
   blanket in a corner of the barn.
   
   We talk about setting up watches but...it's just bloody freezing.
   Walter eyes the dog, totally covered in the hay, and blanket, only his
   brindle nose sticking out. "You know...I have a feeling if anyone came
   in this barn..." and Scully sticks her head out of the tent and
   smiles..."Mulder...that case with Karin Berquist..." she begins and I
   finish the leap of logic for her. "Yeah...I think we're his pack now.
   He's on guard. Set a few screamers on the barn doors. Let's...let's
   all get in and get warm. I think...I think we'll fucking freeze our
   asses off out here if we stand guard." We douse the fire and turn on
   our flashlights.
   
   Inside the tent, with the door zipped it's tolerable. We're tired but
   we talk...try to keep that connection as human beings...that wonderful
   freedom we had together in Canada. Christmas memories of days past.
   Walter and Scully comparing stories about how they used to try to
   sneak peeks at their gifts. Walter telling about the time he dressed
   up as Santa Claus for a homeless shelter in DC... something we never
   knew he'd done, and the little boy at the shelter who got so scared of
   him he pissed in his lap. And Scully telling about the Christmas her
   father was at sea and arranged leave to be there with them, and how
   they were all surprised because he jumped out on Christmas day and
   scared the hell out of Margaret Scully...and I smile and laugh and
   listen and...don't really have any Christmas memories before Sam was
   gone that are pain free to relate and after her abduction...well...we
   didn't really celebrate Christmas much anyway.
   
   And Charlie takes it all in, wide-eyed with wonder as I dangle that
   stupid Picachu toy over his head...he never grows tired of it...and he
   gurgles, and smiles, and we quietly sing Christmas carols for him, and
   before he falls asleep Scully tells the story about all the animals
   standing up and talking and adds Pete the watchdog to the manger.
   And...later...Scully and Charlie are fast asleep and they're rolled a
   little to the side and I finally admit to Walter I have another raging
   hard-on. "God...what the hell is wrong with me?" I ask him. He holds
   me close and tells me it's just my body trying to remind me what being
   alive is partly about, and we unzip our sleeping bags and move them
   together and he makes love to me slowly, quietly, fully dressed except
   for my cock and balls which he liberates from my jeans and long
   underwear.
   
   He pulls the sleeping bags back...hovers over my straining erection
   and then, works his mouth down over me right down to my nuts. I stroke
   his head as he sucks and licks and runs his tongue around the head of
   my cock. "I love you," I whisper as I gently thrust my hips into his
   face. And he smiles up at me and then his mouth sucks down, and up,
   and down, and up and...I feel his hand take mine and I squeeze it
   tight and bite off the hoarse yell that's just at the tip of my tongue
   as I spasm and shoot down his throat. He doesn't gag at all, swallows
   everything I have to give and then licks me clean afterwards. Zips me
   up and then holds me close for a few moments again and I ask hushed,
   "What about you?" and I feel between us and he's not hard and I stare
   into his eyes. "I haven't been hard since we hit the road," he
   whispers. "It's just...circumstances I guess," and I take him in my
   arms and mumble words of love that I never thought I'd say to another
   man in my wildest imaginings. Then we both spoon together, and I pull
   Scully and Charlie close and I sleep as peacefully as the baby does.
   
   By mid January it's snowing but only lightly, and we looked on it as a
   good sign because at least it isn't 40 below, and we were so close to
   Pierre and anticipatory, and excited, and we haven't seen anyone yet
   but that's not making us overly worried, and Pete the dog was still
   with us watching over us at night and then...we nearly lost it all.
   
   xXx
   
   The outskirts of Mint, South Dakota. Another farmhouse, two stories
   and we thought...man we had it made. Intact. Pot-bellied stove. Lots
   of wood...well pump...still some canned goods. Very much like that
   farmhouse in Canada and the cabin too. We unload the travois...crank
   up the pot-bellied stove and since the bathroom is right off the
   kitchen it's nice and warm. We set the screamer alarms and then...we
   all take baths and it's fantastic. I go first so I can get dinner
   ready and then Walter and Scully take Charlie and all three of them
   get into the tub of heated water.
   
   It took us a long time to get those buckets of hot water to fill the
   tub but seeing them together in there...yeah...like a family...was
   more than worth it. The scene touches me so much and I leave them
   laughing and cuddling the baby to hide the fact that tears are leaking
   down my cheeks. I busy myself with dinner...opening cans of salmon,
   corn and sweet potatoes and putting them on the pot-bellied stove to
   cook. I even find some cans of Pedigree dog food in a cupboard and
   take what was most certainly the family dog's dish from the floor of
   the kitchen, wash it and dump a couple of cans in it. Sure enough when
   I go out the back door, Pete is sitting at the bottom of the back
   steps. I proffer the bowl and he cocks his head and sniffs but won't
   come any closer. I shrug, "Have it your way, 'furball'," I drawl in
   imitation of Han Solo. I put the bowl down and go back in the house.
   
   After dinner Scully puts Charlie down for the night on a sleeping bag
   laid out in the living room. By now the downstairs is really warm from
   the stove. So, Charlie gets only a light blanket as he's placed,
   clean, diapered with Pampers we found in a closet and tummy full, on
   his improvised bed. He gives a mighty yawn and falls asleep in no time
   flat. I take a look out the back door and the bowl of dog food is
   empty. Pete isn't there but I expect he's around. Sure enough, just as
   I'm closing the door he comes around the side of the barn and lifts
   his leg, pissing a bucket on the red paint. He pads into the barn
   through the half open door...out of the elements. I chuckle and lock
   us down for the night.
   
   We end up in the living room, talking, me in a chair and Scully and
   Walter on the couch all of us in our long johns and I can see Walter
   trying to shift to cover the rather noticeable tent in his lap, and I
   can't help but smile. So...things are waking up I guess. Scully
   notices too and I see for the first time something approaching
   interest there as well. And she shifts over and he puts his arm around
   her shoulders and absentmindedly strokes her bicep as we talk about
   whether we should stay here a couple of days and finally I clear my
   throat. "Uh...look," I begin. "I'm not going to mind if you two want
   to...turn in. I mean...it's ok, really...go on upstairs to bed. I can
   keep an eye on Charlie." Scully looks down, reddening a little and
   Walter coughs and gives me a rueful look. "Seriously...I...I'm a
   little too tired to even consider it...go on...enjoy yourselves," I
   prompt. For a moment I feel like Dr. Ruth and Dear Abby all rolled
   into one but I know this is right because they both need it, and seem
   to want it, and...I remember what Walter did for me that night in the
   cow barn and it's only fair. Scully looks up and I see the worry in
   her eyes. She thinks I'll feel neglected. "Don't forget the Trojans,"
   I add quietly and she gives me a small gentle smile and Walter gets up
   and takes her hand. The look in his eyes when he passes me on the way
   out of the living room with Scully makes my gesture completely worth
   it.
   
   So I find a paperback on top of the TV...'The Firm' and I haven't read
   it actually...or seen the movie, so I lay down on the sleeping bag on
   my stomach next to the sleeping Charlie and start to read. It isn't
   long before I hear soft, high pitched and low, basso profoundo moans
   coming from upstairs and it's pretty obvious that Charlie's Mom and
   Dad are indeed enjoying themselves. Some murmuring...some soft
   squeaking of the mattress, and I hear Scully's whining cry, and I know
   Walter's making her come. Things are quiet for a little bit and I get
   some of the book read and then Scully giggles and Walter laughs and
   then there's more moaning, and movement, and then...Christ...she's
   coming again. Damn...you know...Walter is a good lover. I shake my
   head and grin because yeah...I know only too well.
   
   I'm trying to concentrate on 'The Firm' but I finally give up and lie
   on my back, my hands behind my head while the action progresses above
   me. Oddly enough...I don't get hard. Maybe I am too tired or
   just...the stress or the idea too that...Walter has a connection with
   Scully now that I don't have with her...may never have with her...and
   that's the little life dozing on his back, next to my armpit. It makes
   me somewhat sad at the same time that I revel in the fact that I'm
   helping to raise their son and I know both Walter and Scully love me
   very much.
   
   So I listen and smile as the bed starts to really squeak and I hear
   Scully telling Walter..."Oh God you're so hard, so good, oh, oh..."
   and Walter growling low and rough, telling her, "Beautiful, you're so
   beautiful," and then fast squeaking and then raw words as they urge
   each other on. "Oh fuck yeah. Move. Yeah. Just...like...that," Walter
   pants and Scully moans. "Uhhhh...fuck me," and then finally the bed
   thuds several times and Walter's guttural roar tells me that's all she
   wrote. It doesn't sound like Scully comes again but I know it doesn't
   matter. I can hear her breathy murmur, "I love you, Walter," and his
   voice a little louder. "I thank God for this, Scully. I love you so
   much," and I know they're going to sleep up there so I check the
   perimeter screamers one more time. Say good night to Pete even though
   I know he's in the barn and can't hear me. Then I go in and cuddle
   close to Charlie, pulling a sleeping bag over us both.
   
   During the night, Scully comes down and I feel her take Charlie up and
   I roll over and she's sitting on the couch, her breast bare, feeding
   him. I get up and sit down next to her. She smiles shyly at me and I
   grin. "It sounded like Walter rose to the occasion," I tease. "Oh
   yes...he certainly did," she replies, trying to suppress her grin and
   finally giving up and smiling. We sit in companionable silence for a
   few minutes while Charlie sucks and kneads at Scully's tit.
   
   Then she looks at me again and leans into me a little. I reach up and
   brush the hair from her face. It's gotten long...but it still looks
   like burnished copper and feels wonderfully soft. I drop my hand and
   she speaks. "Mulder...I'm sorry...I...I didn't mean to make you
   feel..." I shush her immediately. "Hey...hey...it's all right. Really.
   The two of you...you deserved a night together. I was perfectly happy
   to babysit." She nuzzles my cheek and I kiss into her hair.
   "Well...next time, it's your turn," she whispers and I know for
   certain from the look in her eyes that it will be and I can wait.
   
   I look down at Charlie then and so does she. I chuckle. "There's no
   doubt this is Walter's son...you know that don't you?" I whisper. She
   nods. "I know...I knew from the night you drew our attention to his
   eyes. Besides...I did the math too. I calculated the conception date
   and that day Walter and I celebrated his recovery made logical sense,"
   she states matter-of-factly. "But, Mulder...it doesn't matter. You
   know he's as much your son as ours, right?" she adds softly. I smile
   wide and nod because you know...it's true. She finishes up giving the
   little guy his meal and then tells me, "I'll stay here. I told Walter
   I needed to feed him so he set his wristwatch alarm. He'll know I'm
   down here." I chuckle. "Still playing AD and Agent Scully," I tease
   and she pokes me and then laughs. Charlie falls back to sleep and
   Scully and I crawl under the sleeping bags and fall asleep too,
   spooned together, the baby cradled next to Scully's stomach.
   
   In the morning Walter's up early and rousts us all for breakfast. When
   I walk into the kitchen I notice the used condom in the brown paper
   shopping bag we're using for trash. I nod...good. It's snowing a
   little but there's promise of clear skies to the West. Not a bad
   morning. We decide to stay on another day. We make breakfast. Canned
   peaches, baked spam and since we found some flour and evaporated milk
   that was still good, a really special treat...pancakes...well sort of,
   but they taste great. No sign of Pete, but I put another can of
   Pedigree out for him, and then Walter and Scully and I gather around
   the table, and Scully has Charlie at her breast, and Walter's bringing
   the pancakes over and suddenly the screamer alarms start going off and
   Charlie starts to shriek because he's scared shitless, and Walter
   drops the pancakes on the floor, and goes for his Smith and Wesson
   where it sits on the counter, and all hell breaks loose.
   
   Four armed men kick in the back and front doors, and surround us, and
   I can't get to my gun or my rifle where they sit in the living room on
   the coffee table, and I'm cursing myself for being so lax, and
   Scully's holding the baby close, his head pressed into her breast, and
   Walter almost makes it to his gun, but one of the men slams him hard
   in the gut with his rifle butt and he goes down. Scully...looking like
   she wants to scream, but going into professional mode...years of
   training coming to the fore...covers the gun stuffed in her jeans
   waist, and under her sweater, with her son's body. Her eyes wide, she
   raises one hand in the air in surrender, and I raise both of mine
   because the tallest man is yelling for us to "get 'em up, get 'em up
   high!"
   
   Walter curled up around his stomach, gasping, we all stand in tableau.
   I'm almost hyperventilating, and then I feel a strange calm come over
   me, and I feel the old training come back as well and I breathe
   steadily to compose myself. In a matter of seconds my mind races to
   assess the situation.
   
   Military issue rifles...three guys are wearing insulted vests over
   worn fatigue jackets...National Guard. Two are grunts though. One
   blonde...one guy with a shaved head. They're 22 to 25 maybe. Ciphers
   really...waiting and watching for input. One guy is really
   young...maybe 16 and he's wearing a snowmobile suit. He's obviously
   not Guard...and he's scared to death. The other guy is
   older...30s...definitely National Guard and the stripes
   say...Sergeant...and that's the leader. Hard, mean, muscular and...I
   can see it in his eyes...this guy is trouble. Cold air comes in the
   back door where they kicked it open. Scully pulls Charlie closer still
   against the cold.
   
   "We've got 'em up," I reply...calm and conciliatory. "We don't want
   any trouble...there's a baby here," I add in case they didn't notice
   Charlie crying his head off over the screamer alarms. Abruptly the
   screamers cease shrieking...but we can all still hear Charlie loud and
   clear.
   
   "Shut the kid up," the leader spits out and I hear Walter growl low
   around his pain.
   
   Scully slowly lowers her hand and gets a better grip on
   Charlie...hiding the gun better in the process and rubs his back. That
   seems to satisfy the leader as Charlie's cries subside to whimpers.
   
   One of the other guys...the tall skinny guy with blonde hair waves his
   rifle at Walter.
   
   "Get up old man. Get in a chair."
   
   Walter looks up with anger and hate in his eyes, and I give him a
   warning look, and he lets his face fall into that AD mask we all know
   so well, and he gets up off the floor with difficulty. Shaved head
   takes Walter's gun off the counter and shoves it in his jeans. Walter
   makes it into the chair across from me and sits down, readjusts his
   glasses, raises his hands. His chest pumps up and down as he works to
   push down the gut ache.
   
   "Just sit there. We want your supplies..." the leader grates out.
   
   "Take them...just take them and go," Walter rasps out.
   
   The leader looks at him for a second...assessing...then he barks to
   his companions, his rifle still trained on us. "Strip the place," he
   orders. Blondie and Shaved Head nod and sling their rifles over their
   backs. They move first to our travois supplies where they're stacked
   in a corner. The kid stands there...hesitating. "What're you waiting
   for?" the leader asks, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.
   "Gheez...Jack..." the kid begins. "Shut your cake hole you idiot. I
   said no names!" The kid goes beet red but shows some moxie. "I was
   just going to say we should at least leave 'em their fucking weapons,
   man...they'll need...I mean Christ...they got a kid to feed," he
   blurts out, his voice shaking.
   
   The leader's jaw muscle jumps and I hold my breath. I can see Walter's
   eyes and he's trying to gauge if he can take the leader at all and
   realizing he couldn't do it before he got a shot off, and Scully is
   debating if she should say something or prepare for one of us to make
   a move, and just throw herself over the baby, and then the leader
   speaks and I let my breath out in relief. "Yeah...leave the guns...but
   hide 'em in the barn, that should give us time to get away. You guys
   hear me?" he says, tersely. "You got it," Blondie replies and they go
   about their business of robbing us of our worldly goods. The kid turns
   then and I see a look in his eyes directed at Scully, and I know she
   sees it too...compassion...and then he slings his rifle over his
   shoulder and goes to root through the cupboards. Walter continues to
   track them all with his eyes...observing...calculating...and so does
   Scully.
   
   The leader stays right by our side...watching...looking...at me...at
   Walter...at Charlie and...especially at Scully. Scully stares back at
   him...as calmly as she can but I know she can see what's in the guy's
   eyes and...I seek to distract him. "Where did you guys come from?" I
   ask. The leader's head swivels to me. "None of your fucking business."
   O-K I think. "We thought you might have come from Pierre...we heard
   there were people in Pierre," I reply. The kid pipes up without
   thinking. "Pierre, yeah...we..." he begins. "Shut up...Rod-ney," The
   leader hisses viciously...and I know him for what he is then...a
   vindictive, half-crazy bastard because now we know the kid's name too.
   I look at the kid and try to smile at his red, sweating face. "It's
   ok, Rodney...we pretty much knew there were people down there..." and
   the leader waves his rifle at me...cold eyes. "No more talking unless
   I ask the questions, asshole"...and I look into his eyes and incline
   my head to placate him. His eyes wander back to Scully. He looks at
   Charlie, flicker of interest. Looks from Charlie to Walter, back to
   Charlie and then focuses on Walter.
   
   "That baby yours, baldy?" The other three men continue to collect our
   supplies, noisy clattering of booted feet, but Scully and I ignore it
   all and their conversation as we focus on Walter. Walter's jaw is so
   tight you could bounce a quarter off it and his eyes are hooded he's
   so pissed off. He swallows. "None of your fucking business," and I
   cringe. Christ, Walter...I know they taught you better than that at
   the Academy. But I know this isn't completely AD Skinner sitting
   there. This is Walter, Charlie's dad and yeah...Scully's husband for
   all intents and purposes, and...he's in pain, and afraid even though
   he's not showing it but...it's coming through now.
   
   Luckily...or unluckily depending on whether you consider what I know
   is going to come eventually...the leader chuckles. At least he doesn't
   just shoot Walter. "I don't suppose it is...but...I was just curious
   as to how a bald, four-eyed old fuck like you got a good looking broad
   like her to spread her legs...much less knock her up. I mean...anyone
   else would have given her a better ride I bet. Even Jew boy over here
   would have been a more likely candidate to show the little lady a good
   time." I wince and I see Scully shudder, the anger plain on her face.
   The leader is watching Walter closely, waiting for his answer.
   
   Walter's face goes crimson. He swallows hard. I watch him struggle for
   control and I hope beyond hope that he masters himself and says the
   thing I know he should to buy us some more time. When he finally
   speaks, I know I'm holding my breath again. "Yes, the baby's my son.
   Please...please don't hurt him or...his mother," he murmurs, his voice
   quiet and strained. Mother...not wife. There are no wedding rings. The
   guy would have noticed I know...and it probably wouldn't have mattered
   anyway because I know what he wants to do, and has wanted to do since
   he saw Scully sitting in that chair...all the crap about leaving us
   our weapons notwithstanding. He's just been looking for an excuse to
   get Walter at least out of the way...either dead or lying with a
   cracked head on the floor so he could proceed with business. But this
   was as good an answer as Walter could have given and I see... flicker
   of doubt, of hesitation in the leader's eyes and I let out my
   breath...and the leader answers.
   
   "Mother...but not wife, yeah I noticed...no rings. Fuck...whaddya
   know," he chuckles. "I'll bear that in mind," he finishes with a feral
   look at Scully. And then he goes back to standing there with his rifle
   trained on us...looking at me mostly and I know we all know what's
   going to happen here before he leaves. He'll rape Scully...probably in
   front of Walter...maybe in front of me too...maybe get the other guys
   to rape her as well, and then get rid of Walter, and me, and Scully
   and Charlie...the witnesses because he's not taking any chances we'll
   come after him. Christ...I know it as sure as I know I'm going to stop
   him even if I die doing it. And I can see it in Walter's eyes too, and
   in Scully's...I can see it in Scully's...whatever it takes to save
   us...whatever it takes to save our son.
   
   Eerie silence and then I think...it suddenly occurs to me...Jesus...no
   sound...no sound of...Pete...oh man they must have killed the dog. And
   then finally Shaved Head comes back in from carrying out the last
   load...where the hell are they putting all this stuff...we didn't hear
   an engine and it has to be the travois and then..."That's it, except
   for the guns, man," he advises looking at Jack. Blondie and Rodney
   come back in too, guns slung over their backs, and they all stand
   there staring at Jack man, and Jack lowers his rifle a little and
   looks from Scully to Walter and then looks up and licks his lips.
   
   "Good. Ok...look...Rodney,"...the name again this time used without
   inflection of any kind..."you and Pete,"...head gesture towards
   Blondie..."take their guns out to the barn...Greg,"...chin goes up to
   the shaved one..."you stay in here...help me watch these folks," he
   orders in a soft, tense voice and when he says the names the three
   guys glance at each other and they know, and I know...I know we're
   dead unless we can do something to stop them.
   
   "Whatever you say, boss," Pete responds and Rodney swallows hard.
   "Say...uh...Jack...why don't I..." he begins. "Why don't you shut the
   fuck up and do as you're told," Jack spits out. They all stand there.
   "Move!" he shouts and they do. Rounding up the weapons, Rodney and
   Pete go out the back door.
   
   Jack shifts...walks over to stand by Scully. "I guess you know what I
   want..." he murmurs into her face. I see Walter turn crimson again and
   I shoot another desperate warning look at him. "Watch her boyfriend
   and the Jew boy," he orders Greg. Greg trains his rifle on Walter and
   me and I watch Walter coil...coil...like a spring...and I know it's
   only a matter of moments before he snaps. "Do your job and I'll let
   you have sloppy seconds," he adds, smirking at Scully. Scully looks at
   him...proud, unafraid and utterly defiant. He falters slightly at the
   lack of fear in her eyes. And when she speaks it's in a voice that
   matches the look in her eyes. "I know I can't stop you but...I'll make
   a deal with you. If you...if you leave these men and my son
   unharmed...I'll...I'll make sure you enjoy it. I'll...I'll even go
   with you so you can enjoy it as much as you want. Just don't...harm
   them," she finishes and I shut my eyes.
   
   Before Jack the Leader can answer, Rodney and Pete come back in. Pete
   cuffs the kid in the back of the head, looks at Jack with apology in
   his eyes. "Sorry...asshole here forgot the shotgun," he comments.
   Jack's attention is drawn to them. "Get it and get out...both of you,"
   he orders. And they head to the living room to get the shotgun. Jack
   curls his lips up in contempt and Greg curls his lip up in
   contempt...at Rodney. Greg and Jack...I see it...the resemblance. I
   would bet they're related...brothers maybe. Shit...let's keep it all
   in the family shall we? My stomach flips and I start to steel myself
   for what I know I have to do.
   
   Rodney and Pete return, Pete carrying the shotgun, and the frightened
   Rodney bringing up the rear, and I watch them as they head towards the
   half open kitchen door, and I'm thinking...I can take the kid, I can
   take the kid, and then...it all happens so fast and...I wondered what
   the fuck happened to that dog...thought Pete was dead, but Jesus...he
   wasn't. Growling, snarling mass of dog meat muscle, flashing teeth,
   scrabbling claws all over man Pete, and he screams loud and high like
   a woman as the dog grabs his crotch and starts to latch on where it
   could only hurt the most, and...grinding down until his jaws lock,
   and...the shotgun goes flying and my God, my God no one is moving and
   then...
   
   Rodney screams, "PETE! PETE!" And I think shit, same name as the dog,
   and Greg dashes forward, rifle up but the kid has his rifle slung
   forward as Greg gets between him and the roiling mess of 'mandog' and
   flying blood, and BLAM! BLAM! two shots fired and Greg screams,
   "MUTHERFUCK YOU SHOT ME, YOU..." and down he goes and...
   
   I throw myself to the side, on top of Scully because Jack's
   shooting...and...Shit shit shit shit...I repeat over and over and we
   crash in a heap...Charlie under us and the baby is
   shrieking...shrieking, and not a sound out of Scully because she's
   trying to hold the kid, and grab for her gun where it flew out of her
   jeans at the same time, and I'm clawing at her piece too and then we
   hear a BAAABOOOM! loud in our ears. Fucking shotgun.
   Oh...God...please....
   
   And I come up with Scully's gun in my hand and there's Walter standing
   with the shotgun against his hip, blood spattered all over him from
   point blank shot that took out most of Jack's chest, and Jack lying
   against the cabinets under the sink, dead, his rifle in his hands and
   the dog Pete rolling around, growling, gnashing, tearing at the
   semi-conscious man Pete and the kid, Rodney...in my sights, his hands
   up crying over, and over, "DON'T KILL ME! DON'T KILL ME!"
   
   And I look in his eyes and his eyes are pleading and I lower my gun.
   "Get the fuck out," I tell him, slumping slightly and he turns and
   runs for the front door, never looking back. Scully gets up and I move
   to her side immediately...start touching her here, there, the baby
   next...and "Are you all right...is Charlie all right?" and Scully is
   nodding and the baby is quiet now...taking it in and even smiling a
   little as Scully rubs his back...and then she looks past me
   at...Walter.
   
   I turn and track his movements and it's like a dream...Walter walks to
   the dead Greg, retrieves his Smith and Wesson from the guy's
   pants...walks over to where brindle dog Pete is still worrying blonde
   man Pete's thigh. I watch the arterial blood spurt bright
   red...closer...closer...Walter makes a grab...takes the dog hard by
   the collar and Scully...Scully cries out, "Walter no! He saved our
   lives!" and...Walter doesn't hesitate. He pulls the dog back...tells
   him to sit and incredibly he does, and then Walter puts the Smith and
   Wesson against groaning man Pete's head, and BLAM! BLAM! the report is
   loud in the now quiet kitchen. Revenge? Mercy killing maybe more
   likely. Either way...good riddance. Walter drops the shotgun and the
   Smith and Wesson on the kitchen table, walks over to us and...we walk
   into his arms and he hugs us both tight. Pete sits and watches...his
   tongue lolling out...bloody froth on his jaws as we embrace...Charlie
   cooing musically between us.
   
   xXx
   
   Pierre, South Dakota. We're looking down on Pierre, South Dakota...and
   it's in ruins. The disappointment is so heavy you can almost cut it
   with a knife. Since Mint all of us have been in a daze I think. Just
   putting one foot in front of the other. Something...we lost something
   in Mint. The only one of us who seems unfazed is Charlie and for his
   sake we push on...and try to stay positive. But now...Walter puts the
   binoculars away and we sit down on the crest of the ridge overlooking
   the highway and...Scully bundles Charlie close where she has him in
   her coat for warmth. I watch her reach in and shift to place her
   nipple in the baby's mouth. Charlie comfort...and Scully comfort too
   really. He sucks eagerly. Walter and I sit in silence, in the snow.
   
   We have all our supplies...even some more we scavenged on the way...we
   have the travois...the weapons...more ammo...we even have Pete the
   dog. We just don't know where to go. Walter shrugs and speaks, "We
   could continue South. It'd be warmer...hell...we could even go West.
   Warm and dry," he suggests. "Yeah...I always wanted to retire to a
   place with dry heat," I quip trying to lighten the mood. "Yes...please
   let's not go to Florida where it's hot and humid...I heard the bugs
   are terrible there," Scully adds teasing and we all chuckle a little.
   
   I look over at Pete...in all his brindle AmStaff glory where he sits
   nearby. The hero. He still won't come near us...that one day in Mint
   was an exception I guess. He's been back on sentry duty however. Our
   nights are peaceful at least. "Hey, Pete," I address him. "Where would
   you like to go?" I ask his furry face. And then we watch...transfixed
   as Pete cocks his head, once, twice and then gets up and slowly, very
   slowly pads over to us. "Mulder..." Walter hisses in warning as the
   terrier approaches me. He comes in close and I stretch out my
   hand....fist closed in case he wants to take a bite...but he pushes
   his head up under my hand and wags his tail...sits...barks once and
   then....///Mulder....Fox Mulder...Pete wants to go to Pierre. Over///
   and we stare in utter shock.
   
   "What in God's name?" Scully blurts out and Walter's mouth drops open.
   /// Scully!!! Scully!!!/// excited tiny tinny voice. I grab the dog's
   collar and look closely...mini speaker...has to be a mini microphone
   too and...the voice comes again...///Thank God...it's working
   again...Mulder...is that you?/// and I know who it...God...oh for
   crying out loud..."FROHIKE!?" I shout into the dog collar like a total
   fool and Walter says, "What?"...and Scully starts to laugh...half
   crazy laughter with the stress and..."Is this some kind of sick joke?"
   she blurts out, and the dog cocks his head and leaves me and goes over
   to Scully, and the voice comes out of the collar again...///"Would I
   ever joke about my undying worship of that vision of loveliness named
   Agent Dana Scully?"/// and then Scully laughs with delight and I
   think...holy shit...it's just like a whacked out version of that
   Christmas Eve story about the animals talking in the manger, and
   Walter grabs the dog by the collar, and shouts into the microphone,
   his eyes dancing...laughing too. "Frohike...where are you, you damn
   troll?" and Frohike's tinny laughter is like music to our ears.
   ///"I'm down in Pierre...we're all down in Pierre...we went
   underground, my man...in a big way...just...come on down...we're
   sending an escort...look for Byers...on horseback. We...we have a lot
   to tell you."/// "No shit," I yell...laughing my ass off as Pete gives
   us all a huge, slobbery doggie grin.
   
   xXx
   
   EPILOGUE
   
   Eighteen months later...
   
   The irony of our story is...we missed the war. I had a lot of guilt at
   first built up over the idea that by fleeing and not staying to fight
   the good fight I somehow...what...shirked my duty as the great Fox
   Mulder? Spooky Mulder the guy who spent half his career chasing the
   truth...trying to prevent what happened only to run from it when it
   did? Fuck it. Scully and Walter said we maybe missed the war but we
   fought the battle...the battle for survival and the safety of those we
   love in the hopes we could carry on. And we still fight that fight
   even now...here in South Dakota...the fight to reclaim what's
   ours...the planet Earth and the good things we used to have here.
   
   And really...there wasn't any choice, and in the long run no one knew
   what they were going to be able to do when the grays landed...or that
   the resistance to them was what it really turned out to be in the end.
   
   Not even the guys. Frohike, Byers and Langly. They ran too...the only
   reason they didn't run away from the battle was because after my phone
   call they got a phone call from Suzanne Modeski...before all the
   phones went dead. Suzanne Modeski...now Suzanne Byers. Oh yeah...she
   remembered John Byers all right. And when C-Day...C for
   colonization...came the call went out for the Lone Gunmen. Come to
   Pierre, South Dakota...we've underground, quite literally here and
   we're mounting the real plan to combat the invasion. They had no
   idea...but Suzanne did, and she remembered their expertise and that,
   and her love for Byers, made her send for them.
   
   Underground bunkers, teams of scientists and a few key players from
   that other alien race we had an inkling were trying to help us but
   never were really sure about their motivations...the Jeremiah Smith
   side of the equation. The last members of a dying race they'd really
   only wanted one thing...to co-exist if they could. They should have
   just asked the right people maybe? Whatever...in any event...they were
   all but exterminated in the first assault...a few of them...still
   stayed on and with the help of one of the biggest surprises of
   all...Alex Krycek...were the architects of human survival.
   
   Krycek. He stayed above ground...spying...gathering information...sent
   most of the Jeremiah Smiths ahead to South Dakota with instructions to
   communicate over a specially scrambled channel on stolen alien
   communication devices. They had the key...almost...the means to create
   a virus that was deadly to the grays...to create it from blood
   by-products from a woman he and the one Jeremiah Smith that wouldn't
   leave his side were trying desperately to liberate from a holding
   facility in Stone Mountain, Georgia. The Jeremiah Smith made it back
   with Marita Covarrubias and Alex Krycek died laying down covering fire
   for their escape. So, Krycek...no matter what his motives...died a
   hero. And I'll never find out why he did the things he did to us
   before...and I'll never be able to give him another chance either.
   
   The grays herded mankind South...away from the cold. Those they didn't
   want to use, they just killed outright. Most were taken off planet.
   It's amazing how fast it all happened. Huge transport ships. Scully
   and I had seen one in Antarctica of course. We'd seen a few of them in
   our travels North after July 4th. We'd heard enough from fleeing
   people to know the gist of what was happening. The upshot...most of
   the world's population is dead or gone or living in isolated areas in
   South America in the rain forests or Australia...Africa...anywhere
   it's warmer...few and far between and no real communication except
   some short-wave radios. So much communication was shut down by the
   human collaborators...EMP blasts took care of a lot of the rest...and
   the resistance in their network of underground bunkers all over the
   world...worked to construct the virus...and other things.
   
   There's a lot of interesting ET technology floating around in the
   brave new world. Some of it has been salvaged from downed ships. We
   have to be careful of some of it...whatever it is that produces the
   psi-factor in susceptible humans is difficult to work with in the
   extreme. But we're managing. We're starting to develop things...like
   fusion as an energy source as well as anti-gravity power...just the
   embryonic in-roads but everyone foresees great things to come in time.
   And the Jeremiah Smiths contributed things as well.
   
   The 'Petes'...the name has become generic now...were created for one.
   Yeah...the dogs are dogs...but more than dogs really. Something the
   Jeremiah Smiths came up with but ended up not quite operating
   correctly because it was built to control something a lot more alien
   than the family pet. A chip that hyped the dog's senses, helped them
   hunt and survive in the wild better, track and locate people better,
   encouraged them to guard, to protect people, places, things. The chip
   also controlled them better to a degree...made them learn and
   understand more commands and hear and heed their master's voices at
   any distance. Anytime someone brought in a dog...it was chipped and
   put to work somehow. Langly and his team came up with the collars for
   two way transmission over great distances...in theory. The only
   problem was...the hardware was twonky at first. The prototype
   dogs...of which our Pete was one didn't always do the job. Oh, they
   were good close up on sentry duty and search and rescue, but long
   distance...they were problematical. Half the time they didn't work and
   the collar communication system was always failing too. Now of course,
   they've been perfected...even adding tiny video cameras where needed
   in the dog's collars. The dogs, besides still being essentially man's
   best friend and great companions...are now also valuable helpmates.
   Almost everyone has a Pete on the homestead. And yes, we still have
   our original prototype Pete and he does the job fine enough for us.
   
   But it was Frohike's idea to have them encoded to find certain people.
   Encoded and then dropped off and later tracked and picked so they
   could search for those missing amongst them...me...Scully and
   yes...Skinner and...the Cigarette Smoking bastard if they could. That
   was the part that did work thanks to the Jeremiah Smiths. They had all
   the smallpox vaccination information, stolen from the grays after all.
   The dogs were somehow capable of picking up on it. So...when Pete
   caught up with us in Rugby...well...it's lucky the technology worked
   as well as it did. None of the Petes ever found Smokey Spender
   however. We keep hoping. I have a few choice words to say to that
   bastard...and Walter has some too.
   
   They finally came up with the virus. Caught a gray...tested it and
   when it killed it...they released it into the atmosphere. The grays
   that didn't die, fled. The Earth is uninhabitable for them now. Of
   course...maybe they got what they came for anyway. Sadly...there are
   so few of us now. The rest...well...I can only hope they never woke
   out of cryosleep. And of course I wonder. I wonder about...my sister.
   I hope wherever she is...well...I hope she never woke up either.
   
   But now...the real work begins. The rebuilding. Six months ago we came
   back above ground...600 of us. Moved out into the country and ok...it
   looks like a 60s commune but it's home. Houses went up...all kinds of
   interesting structures. I mean half the guys here are geeks...computer
   hackers...God...the world was saved by the 'Revenge of the Nerds' but
   hell...it worked and now we're all working together to try to send the
   news out...we're here and we'll try to help. I'm sure the
   population'll grow.
   
   The radio man, Roger Whitcomb, is our de facto mayor. He was
   apologetic about their radio problems. Early on they had power
   problems from unshielded equipment. EMP pulses were tough on them.
   Roger was a CEO of some tiny software company in Silicon Valley so he
   was the closest thing to a manager around at the time I guess. He
   stayed mayor. There are engineers here, chemists, and scientists from
   several different disciplines. Plain old John Q. Publics
   too...civilians as it were who made it to the bunkers and weren't
   turned away before the blast doors were shut down and the resistance
   closed themselves off. Farmers for one...and extra doctors too...real
   medical doctors to augment the staff on hand, including Scully and
   Suzanne who has a degree in medicine as well as chemistry. So, we're
   well set up to homestead. Word is getting out...others are joining our
   community. It's a good group of people and a few more trickle in
   periodically to add interest to the mix.
   
   Frohike is head of research and development. He's really in his glory.
   And...he found himself a little redhead of his very own actually. I
   had to laugh the first time she and Scully met. Charlotte...that's her
   name...said, "I've heard so much about you," and Scully raised an
   eyebrow and Frohike turned scarlet. We all laughed like hell. She's a
   bit younger than Frohike...a young farmer's wife...widowed in the
   war...and they were married three months before we reached Pierre.
   She's expecting. So it looks like Charlie will have another little
   playmate before long.
   
   As I said, Byers married Suzanne. That happened almost immediately
   upon their arrival in Pierre. The only religious leader here at the
   time was a Sioux medicine man...so they were married in a Native
   American ceremony. There's an ex-army chaplain here now too and
   sometimes the church services are very...eclectic. They haven't
   started a family yet. Byers told me they've just decided to start
   trying though, so maybe soon.
   
   Langly...well...he's playing marathon sessions of D&D when he's not
   leading his band of real-life adventurers out into the landscape in
   search of whatever leftover technology or supplies that may prove
   useful. He's free of what he calls romantic entanglements...for now.
   But...I've seen how that one woman, the one who looks a little like
   Esther Nairn, and is his de-facto second in command, looks at him
   sometimes. I have to think someday there may be something between
   them. Only time will tell.
   
   Naturally...Walter is head of security. His group is kind of the cops
   and the army all rolled into one. It's needed. There are still
   elements like Jack and his cohorts out there. But we're well guarded
   with Walter and his men and the Petes and larger versions of the
   screamer alarms. I lend a hand there too when it's necessary.
   
   I'm still with him as much as I'm with Scully. Almost every day I'm
   struck by the fact that never in a million years would I have thought
   that Walter Skinner would be this solid a friend, my confidant...this
   much support to me...and that it would be a two way street. And I sure
   as hell never thought he'd be my lover. No shit. Never would have
   considered it back at the Hoover. I mean...I never remotely realized
   I'd enjoy being with a man in bed. But oh yeah, I enjoy it...big time.
   I like being in him but I like having him in me a whole lot. Something
   about that big cock up my ass. I love being on top...riding his
   erection...taking him in really deep and having him growling below me
   like he does when he arches up with those fantastic thigh and ass
   muscles to fuck me just the way I like it. I'm over 40 now and
   Walter's pushing 50 but when we're together there's more fire in the
   furnace than either of us could ever want. I'm so...so very lucky to
   have him and Scully. So very thankful.
   
   He and Scully and I were married. Yeah...I told you church services
   here could be eclectic, right? In my opinion a ceremony wasn't
   necessary. I didn't feel as though I needed it really. But the other
   two thirds of the arrangement felt strongly about formalizing the
   relationship in front of God and everyone so the community got
   together and we had a wedding performed by both the medicine man,
   Richard Crow Flying and the chaplain, Henry Cabot, too for good
   measure. Frohike was best man. Langly was the groomsmen. Suzanne was
   the Maid of Honor and Frohike's wife, Charlotte, was the only
   bridesmaid. Charlie gave away the bride...with a lot of help from John
   Byers. So it was official...we were hitched and holy shit...we had a
   hell of a honeymoon.
   
   Walter, Scully and I built our home here. It's a geodesic dome house
   and man, it was a challenge to construct in six months but we did it
   with the help of others in the community. We're still working on it
   some...getting it just right. But it has lots of glass for the
   greenhouse effect...solar heating. The ubiquitous pot-bellied stove.
   Fireplace. Good sized great room, kitchen. We still have an outhouse
   and will for a while, but we built a bathhouse connected to the main
   structure with a huge tub big enough for three adults and a little
   guy...Charlie...to bathe in. Charlie...who isn't so little anymore.
   God...he'll turn two this coming October. Hard to believe. He still
   looks a whole lot like Walter but there's a little more of Scully
   there too. His hair is more on the reddish side...Walter's was black,
   of course...and sometimes when he smiles...it's that same enigmatic
   smile Scully has sometimes. He's growing by leaps and bounds. Smart
   too...very quick and I tease Walter, telling him the kid must have
   gotten his brains from Scully. That usually gets a cuff on the back of
   the head or if he isn't close enough the middle finger salute. But I'd
   say he is...exceptional even if I do have a bit of bias about it. He
   walked early. Careens around here like a Tasmanian devil sometimes.
   I'll call him Taz and he'll laugh. He talked early as well...and
   manages to enunciate better than average I think. Calls me Mudder,
   though. Well...it's close. As long as he doesn't call me Fox, we're
   fine. Ah hell...he's just a nice little kid.
   
   Charlie's big enough now to have his own little bedroom downstairs
   below the loft. Yeah, we have a loft again, and...we're still three to
   a bed. Everyone is very tolerant here and due to circumstances, family
   groups can be somewhat unconventional. The most unconventional of all
   was Marita Covarrubias and one of the Jeremiah Smiths. Needless to
   say...it's live and let live.
   
   I'm helping Walter, but I'm also teaching a little. There are a few
   kids here and at the rate things are going...there'll be more. We all
   take turns trying to keep up their education. I'm teaching English.
   Scully teaches Science. She chips in at the clinic as well and in her
   off time...and I use that term loosely...she's planted a garden that's
   the envy of everyone here including some of the farmers who are
   homesteading nearby. God...she puts me to shame sometimes with the
   energy she has and her capacity to help...to shoulder the load...and
   to persevere.
   
   But the big news regarding Scully is...she's pregnant again. Scully
   had of course begun menstruating right on schedule after Charlie's
   birth. So, we knew she was ovulating at least. We suspected the ova
   were fertile and Scully didn't want a baby right away and we didn't
   blame her. So, Walter and I used protection religiously until
   recently.
   
   But...the stork's on the way now by mutual agreement. And guess what?
   This time...well this time...Fox Mulder is going to be a dad. Yeah,
   about three months along so far. It was planned...at least by two
   thirds of the relationship. Scully had mentioned a few times over the
   last month or so finally about maybe giving Charlie a little brother
   or sister and I of course, being somewhat dim about things thought...I
   wonder if Walter wants a girl this time? No clue at all she was
   thinking about making a baby with yours truly. All right...I still
   have some trouble realizing that Scully and Walter actually love me as
   much as they do and that they even want me around at all. But that's
   just my old inferiority complex rearing its ugly head.
   
   So, I'm oblivious, and Scully and Walter must have cooked up the plan.
   One night Walter told Scully and me he'd promised to take Charlie over
   to see Richard Crow Flying and the wolf sculpture he was carving, and
   he gathered up his son and exited stage left. I heard him tell Pete to
   mind the store and Pete came in and flopped down in front of the
   hearth. I was working away on some lessons for the next day and
   suddenly the lanterns are turned low and a bottle of homemade wine and
   two wine glasses appear along with Scully dressed in just a T-shirt
   and panties and I ask her..."Why Agent Scully...are you trying to
   seduce me?" and she says..."But of course, Agent Mulder," and...a
   glass of wine each later and we're up in the loft bedroom going at it
   hot and heavy.
   
   And God...there was something special about that night. That night
   Scully and my lovemaking was incredible...like the first time we were
   ever together. Incendiary. I made her come multiple times before I was
   anywhere near coming myself and we were both loving every minute of
   it. Finally, I was splayed out over her...so high with arousal I
   almost forgot about the condom and I rose up to fumble with the night
   stand when her hand came up and stopped my arm. I looked down at her
   and she pulled my hand to her lips and kissed my palm. "I need..." I
   started to tell her that I needed to get the rubber just in case she
   wasn't thinking quite straight at that point either and she
   said..."No...you don't...not...not tonight," and she smiled up at me
   and I gazed down at her...hoping because now...God...finally by this
   time I had realized how very much I did want to have a child with her
   but not sure she really meant it, and I asked, "Seriously?" and she
   laughed such musical laughter.
   
   "Yes...I'm serious. Mulder, I love you...of course I want to have a
   baby with you," and I laughed and said..."You and Walter planned this
   didn't you?" and she laughed too and answered, "Yes we did...so..."
   she let her voice trail off. "So...I guess I've uh...risen to the
   occasion," I answered. And I had...proudly. And she laughed and kissed
   me and we went back to loving each other. And when I entered her it
   was with unparalleled joy because I knew we were going to try to
   create a new life that night, and Scully told me to knee up and put
   her ass on my lap so we'd have the best chance of that happening and I
   did...thrusting in deep and coming really deep inside her as well.
   After that first night we made sure we gave it a few more shots so to
   speak, and Walter, the old dog, abstained for almost a month...with
   both of us so I'd be locked and loaded, and he used protection until
   we were sure Scully was pregnant. So...in about six months we should
   find out if Charlie has a new brother or sister.
   
   It's June now. I sit here...rambling...typing our story into this old
   laptop computer that survived the trip all the way from Canada and I
   marvel that we survived and how far we've come. Scully, Charlie and
   Walter are in the sunken living room, Scully and Walter debating
   whether to add a greenhouse to the house or a workshop for Walter's
   newly budding carpentry hobby/business and I throw back over my
   shoulder..."Why not both...I'll help," and they laugh, and Scully
   throws a paper airplane at me from the pad they're using to sketch
   some kind of plans out on. Charlie is playing with Pete, rolling
   around on his side while the terrier lies content and giving us all
   one of his doggie smiles.
   
   Suddenly, Scully and Walter stop talking and the silence makes me stop
   typing and turn around. They're looking out the front windows, the
   windows that face the dirt path that leads from our front door down to
   the main part of the community. "I think we're going to have company,"
   Scully suggests and Walter replies, "Evidently," and I look where
   they're looking and see a woman coming up the path. "I don't recognize
   her," Scully says distantly, and Walter gets up, takes his gun off the
   top of the mantle, shoves it in his pants, and makes his way to the
   front door. Pete shifts, dislodging Charlie gently and pads after
   Walter, on alert. We're still cautious when it comes to strangers.
   Most are benevolent but we have had those who were less than pleasant
   over the last year.
   
   But this looks like a woman alone. Probably a newcomer to the
   settlement. Maybe someone told her we sometimes take in newbies until
   they find regular housing. She looks tired though, whoever she
   is...her step is heavy. Walter picks up on it. "I'll go meet her part
   way," he suggests. Scully and I nod and he and Pete continue to the
   front door. Walter opens it and they go on out. Scully, with Charlie
   holding her hand and toddling along, and I get up and walk over to the
   open door.
   
   We stand and watch as Walter meets the woman, stops her and they
   converse. Pete sniffs her and then wags his tail, dances about her a
   little until I see Walter give the curt command for him to stay back.
   The dog does, standing at Walter's side as he talks to the woman. From
   here I can see she's fairly tall and thin with long, thick, somewhat
   wavy brown hair. She's dressed in hiking boots, jeans, a sweatshirt, a
   wide brimmed hat hangs down her back from the cord around her neck. A
   backpack and walking stick complete her possessions.
   
   Something...something makes me feel strange as I watch them talk. Some
   kind of sensation...not deja vu...but something very similar. I watch
   and the feeling increases as Walter takes the woman around the
   shoulders and begins to walk her toward the house and I think...what
   is up with that...he's never that familiar with strangers and I think
   well...maybe she's exhausted and then they come closer and I
   look...closely, studying the
   woman...evaluating...postulating...struggling to...recognize, and
   thinking...where do I know this woman from and then the dawning
   realization and...I...I...hear Walter speaking and I can hardly hear
   his words for the pounding of my heart.
   
   "Mulder...I think this is someone who's been looking for you for a
   very long time...who you've been looking for, for a very long time..."
   he rumbles, his voice rough with emotion.
   
   And Walter has tears in his eyes and I hear Scully whisper, "Jesus,"
   and the woman smiles and her eyes are bright with tears. "Fox?" she
   asks, shyly..."Oh my God...Fox..." and we fall into each other's arms
   and I sob "Samantha...Sam...oh..." and I choke on the words, sobbing
   and laughing, and Charlie laughs and says, "Mudder, Mudder huggin',"
   and Pete barks and Walter's patting me on the back and Samantha is
   saying..."I've come so far and I've finally found you," and Scully
   says..."Samantha Mulder, I'm Dana Scully, your brother's wife...this
   is our home...come in...come inside and make it your home too."
   
   -THE END-
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