DISCLAIMER:  Most of the characters in this work of fiction
belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox
Network.  I mean no infringement.  The characters of Annelle
Hollis, Anne Milliken, Larry, Eve Wentworth, David, Lorna and 
Benton Crane, and Preston Powell belong to me and should not 
be used without my permission.

This is the pre-quel to 12 Degrees of Separation and takes
place within that universe.  Rated PG-13 for adult
situations and language. 


12 RITES OF PASSAGE
#12:  "Retreat"
By anne Haynes 
AHaynes33@aol.com


University Hospital
Baltimore, MD
2:42 a.m.


The room was dark and quiet, lit only by a small lamp on the
bedside cabinet.  In the bed, Samantha Mulder slept, her
pale, thin face relaxed in slumber.  Her brother kept watch
beside her, his tear-reddened eyes fixed on her face,
searching, studying, memorizing.

Dana Scully watched him from a chair in the corner of the
small private room, searching, studying and memorizing as
well.  She had never thought to see this day, and now that
it had come, she wanted to preserve it somehow, capture this
moment for eternity.  

It was not often a person achieved his heart's desire.

Her eyes were damp with tears as well, shed in a maelstrom
of relief and joy and sheer nerves.  She had managed to hold
herself together through the ride behind the ambulance that
carried Samantha here to University Hospital.  She'd been a
rock for Mulder, who had begun to slowly unravel the moment
he'd heard his sister call his name.  She'd been the one who
filled out the admittance forms, who provided the insurance
information with a quick phone call to Anne Milliken. 

Scully had also called Skinner and her own mother, knowing
that with all the threads of this case that were yet to be
untangled, she'd need all the help she could get.  Her
mother had agreed to stop by her apartment and bring a
change of clothes so that Scully could get rid of the
surgical scrubs she'd borrowed from the hospital when she
had showered to rid herself of the smell of smoke.  Skinner
had dispatched a hand-chosen team of arson investigators to
the Baltimore warehouse site.

Scully suspected it would be an exercise in futility.  The
fire had been set with the express purpose of leaving no
evidence to be found.  

The door to the hospital room opened, and Scully's mother
entered, carrying a small athletic bag.  Her forehead was
crinkled with a worried frown, but Scully noticed that she
straightened her face immediately when Mulder looked up at
her.  Margaret smiled at Mulder, setting the bag on an empty
chair and crossing to his side.

Mulder rose and slipped his arm around Margaret's shoulder,
accepting her affectionate hug.  "Pretty amazing, huh?" he
murmured, looking down at his sister.  

"How is she?" Margaret glanced at Scully, questions in her
eyes.  

Scully smiled her reassurance.  "Tired and a bit dehydrated,
but the doctors say she should be okay.  They ran a battery
of tests on her when she first came in, so if there's
anything else wrong with her, we should know soon."  

Mulder glanced over his shoulder, meeting Scully's gaze. 
"If it weren't for your daughter, Mrs. Scully--"

Margaret met her daughter's eyes, her gaze filled with love. 
Tears pricked the back of Scully's eyes, and she managed a
trembling smile.  "I brought a change of clothes, Dana.  But
first--there's an agent outside who needs to speak to you."

Something about the expression in her mother's eyes made
Scully's stomach quiver.  She rose and crossed the room,
pausing briefly to run her hand comfortingly down Mulder's
back before she left the room in search of the agent.

A slim, petite young woman with chestnut brown hair turned
away from the nurse's desk.  Face on, she looked a bit
younger than Scully had expected--mid-twenties, she guessed,
although a dusting of freckles and a minimum of make-up
subtracted a few years.  Intelligent blue-gray eyes met
Scully's from behind a pair of oval framed glasses.  Her
neat suit, complete with oversized jacket, screamed FBI. 
She smiled at Scully and extended her hand.  "Agent
Scully?  I'm Agent Jenn Francis.  Assistant Director Skinner
dispatched me to your apartment after your mother's phone
call."

Scully's forehead wrinkled in confusion.  "After Mom's phone
call?"

"Agent Scully, when your mother entered your apartment this
morning, she found the place ransacked.  I'm afraid someone
broke into your apartment and conducted a thorough search of
the premises while you were out.  We can't tell that
anything was stolen--"

But Scully knew better.  The printouts of Bill Mulder's disk
had been in her apartment.  She would bet a year's salary
they were no longer there.  "I assume you're dusting the
place for prints?"  Also an exercise in futility, Scully
knew, but procedures had to be followed. 

"Of course.  A.D. Skinner--ah, here he is now."  Agent
Francis looked down the corridor behind Scully.  Scully
turned to greet the Assistant Director.

"I assume Agent Francis filled you in on the situation at
your apartment."  Skinner put his hands on his hips,
towering over Scully and Agent Francis.  Scully sometimes
wondered if he realized how intimidating his bulk could be. 
She supposed he did--he'd been a Marine, after all. 

"Yes, sir."

"I went by Mulder's place on a hunch.  It had been trashed,
too."

Scully closed her eyes and sighed.  No surprise there, she
supposed.  "Let me guess--the place was turned upside down
but nothing seemed to have been taken."

Skinner glanced at Agent Francis, his jaw muscle working
with tension.  Agent Francis apparently got the hint; she
reddened slightly and discreetly moved away, heading down
the hall toward the waiting area.  Skinner cupped Scully's
elbow and drew her away from the nurse's desk.  "What were
they looking for?"

"No doubt what they found--a file that Agent Mulder's father
compiled shortly before his death."

"What kind of file?"

"We're not sure.  I had a copy, Agent Mulder had a copy, and
there's a copy at the office in Mulder's safe."

"Not anymore--I had someone check Agent Mulder's office.  He
said the place had been tossed as well--and Agent Mulder's 
safe is missing."

Scully looked up at him, wondering if he could possibly be
joking.  "The whole safe?"

"Apparently so.  What was in that file, Agent Scully?"

"A mystery," she murmured.  Briefly she told him as much
about what they had found as she could remember.  "We hadn't
made much headway into the information contained on the disk
when I discovered that Sarah Chandler was really Samantha
Mulder."

Skinner bent his head toward her, lowering his voice.  "Are
you sure it's her?"

"Yes, sir."  Scully glanced over her shoulder at the door of
Samantha's hospital room.  "At least, as sure as I can be
until the DNA tests come back.  Would you like to look in on
her?  I'm sure Agent Mulder would be glad--"

Skinner shook his head.  "I've got to get back to the office
and light a fire under some folks, find out how in a place
as secure as the FBI building, someone managed to ransack
your office and steal a fifty-pound safe without being
noticed."

She didn't bother reminding him that people often made good
money by NOT noticing things they were supposed to notice. 
She assumed he knew that as well as she did.  "Well, at
least we should still have a copy of the disk.  Mulder made
a copy for Agent Pendrell--"

"Uh--"  Skinner's grimace made her stomach flip-flop.

"What is it, sir?"

"Agent Pendrell and Agent Hollis of Sci-Crime were involved
in a carjacking a couple of hours ago."

"My God."

"They were roughed up--they're both being held overnight at
Northeast Georgetown for observation."

"Will they be okay?"

Skinner nodded, his expression grim.  "Yeah--looks like it.
I checked on them before I came here.  Both of them took a
crack on the head, and Pendrell's got a hell of a shiner. 
But he's a lot more upset that whoever jacked them got away
with Agent Mulder's disk."

Scully shook her head, too tired to work herself into the
fine rage she wanted to indulge in.  "They always win.  Even
when they lose, they win."

Skinner looked over her shoulder toward the door to Samantha
Mulder's room.  "Somehow, I don't think Agent Mulder would
agree with you right now."

Scully slumped against the wall.  "You're probably right."

Skinner met her weary gaze, his eyes dark with concern. 
"How are you holding up, Scully?  From what I hear, tonight
wasn't a cake walk for you, either."

She managed a half-smile. "Too tired to know what to feel,
sir."

He patted her arm.  "Why don't you let your mother drive you
home?  Get some rest--I doubt Agent Mulder will even miss
you."

Scully looked down at the faux granite floor of the hospital
corridor, blinking back tears.  She suspected Skinner was
right.  "I'll consider it, sir."

"Pass along my congratulations to Agent Mulder, and forget
about coming to the office for the next couple of days. 
Call it administrative leave with pay."  He squeezed her arm
lightly and turn on his heel, heading down the corridor. 
Scully watched him go out of inertia, not moving until he
turned the corner toward the waiting room where Agent
Francis had made her retreat.

Scully pushed away from the wall and went back into
Samantha's room.  She found her mother seated next to
Mulder, her hand gently stroking his back the way she'd
always soothed her own children.  Scully smiled at the
sight, her heart swelling with gratitude for the loving
childhood she'd enjoyed.  

So very different from Mulder's. 

Mulder looked up as she approached the bed, his face a riot
of emotion.  He was out of control--but it was a good kind
of chaos, a storm of feelings he'd spent the past twenty-four
years sublimating.  He had to feel every one of them now,
the good and the bad.  And that was okay.

He held out his hand toward her as she approached, and she
almost faltered, surprised by the open gesture of affection.
She took his hand in hers, let him draw her near.  He
released her fingers and slipped his arm around her waist in
an easy half-embrace.  

And it was all wrong.

Where was the hesitation?  The tension?  The questions of
propriety and professionalism and prudence?  His effortless
touch unnerved her.  

Something was missing.

Her mother pushed back her chair and rose.  Scully could
tell by the look on her mother's face that she, too,
recognized that something was amiss.  Margaret met Scully's
gaze with a small, reassuring smile. "Dana, I'm going to go
get some coffee for Fox and me--would you like a cup, too?"

Scully nodded.  "Thanks."  She waited until her mother had
left the room before she gently moved away from Mulder's
grasp and sat in the chair her mother had vacated.

Mulder smiled at her briefly, then turned his attention back
to the woman sleeping in the bed in front of them.  "I can't
believe this is real--after that other time--that other
woman--"  He shook his head, words failing him.

"Mulder, I have to tell you something."  Scully put her hand
on his arm.  He didn't seem to feel the touch.  "Mulder, all
of the evidence is missing.  Someone broke into our
apartments and into the office."

He didn't even blink.  

"Mulder, did you hear me?  Someone tossed our office and
took the safe.  The whole safe."

He glanced at her. "Pendrell has a copy of the disk."

She shook her head.  "Not anymore."  She told him about the
carjacking.  "They're okay, but their assailants took the
disk."

Mulder looked at her blankly.  Nothing crossed his face--not
anger or frustration or even hurt.  He just stared.

"You don't care, do you?" she asked, realization dawning.

His gaze never wavered.  "The truth?  No, I don't care.  Not
right now."

She tried not to gape.

"Maybe in a few days, Scully.  Or in a few weeks.  But right
now, I don't care.  It doesn't matter."  He turned his head
away and resumed his vigil over his sister.

She looked away quickly as rage fired through her.  You
bastard, she thought, blinking back angry tears.  I spend
the last six years of my life putting my neck on the line
for you and your obsessions, and now you turn your back on me
and MY questions the second you get what you want?

But as quickly as her anger rose, it subsided, supplanted by
bone-deep weariness.  She slumped in her chair and looked at
him, watching the constant play of emotions across his
normally neutral face.  Of course he didn't care.  Right
now, he didn't have room left for anything but Samantha. 
Eventually, he'd recover his equilibrium and they could get
back to their quest.

Surely he couldn't walk away while there were still so many
questions to answer.

Could he?


*  *  *  *  *


University Hospital
Baltimore, MD
8:12 a.m.


Despite the late hour, the hospital room remained dark, the
morning sunlight blocked by heavy curtains over the window. 
Beside the bed, Fox Mulder felt himself beginning to nod
off, finally coming down from his adrenaline and caffeine
high.  Scully and her mother had left about an hour earlier,
at his insistence--Scully was dead on her feet but too loyal
to abandon him easily.  He appreciated her concern for him,
but there was really nothing she could do here beyond
sharing his vigil.  There were no more mysteries to solve,
no dragons to slay.  

It was over.

He suspected he'd have fallen asleep much earlier if he
could have brought himself to stop staring at his sleeping
sister.  He was afraid if he looked away for a moment, when
he looked back she'd be gone again.  He wondered how long it
would be before he stopped feeling that way.  Probably
never.

Samantha stirred, a slight frown creasing her wide forehead.
She shifted in the bed for a few seconds, then her eyes
fluttered open.  Blinking away sleep, she turned her head to
look at him.  Her eyes widened slightly, and a smile of
recognition spread over her pale face.  "Hi."

He clasped her hand between his own.   "Morning."

"What time is it?"

He glanced at his watch.  "Quarter after eight.  You got a
good night's sleep--how're you feeling?"

She quirked one eyebrow.  "Better than you look."

He grinned.  "Thanks a lot."

"Did you stay here all night?"

"'Cept when they ran me out to take your blood and vitals."

She glanced at the bruises darkening her inner arm.  "Damned
bloodsuckers."

Mulder chuckled.  "The doctor is supposed to drop by around
nine to tell us when you can get out of here."

"Soon, I hope."  A shadow passed over her face.  "I feel
trapped."

He squeezed her hand.  "How much do you remember, Sam--
Sarah--"  He frowned slightly, not knowing what to call her.

"Samantha is fine," she said with a strange little smile.  
"That's my real name, isn't it?"

He nodded.  "Looks that way."

She searched his face as if looking for something familiar. 
"You didn't turn out like I expected."

He quirked his eyebrows.  "What did you expect?"

"I don't know--not so...old."  Her smile faded.  "Fox, I 
don't really remember anything but bits and pieces--nothing
really solid except for an overwhelming sense of threat." 

"Do you remember meeting with Carter Christopher?"

"Who?"

Mulder described the older man.  

Recognition dawned in her eyes..  "He said his name 
was Robert Bowman and that he'd been part of Dr. 
Chamberlain's psychology study.  I met him for lunch at
Garnem's and I walked with him out to the back where he'd
parked his car--"  She frowned.  "I don't remember anything
after that."

"The man you know as Bowman and I know as Christopher is a
member of an international consortium that has been
instrumental in covering up evidence of the existence of
extraterrestrial life."  Mulder steeled himself, waiting for
her response.  He knew how crazy and paranoid he sounded
when he said those kind of things.  

She quirked one dark eyebrow, reminding him for all the
world of Scully.  Heat crept up his neck at the suspicion
that she was mentally fitting him for a straitjacket.  "And
you think I was abducted and held captive in that warehouse
for the purpose of...?"

He shrugged.  "I never said I had all the answers."

She gripped his hand.  "I don't need all the answers.  But I
do need some.  How did you find me?"

"Scully was really the one who found you."

Samantha smiled again.  "I barely got to talk to her last 
night--did she leave?"

He nodded.  "She was practically sleepwalking, so I talked
her into going home and getting some rest."

"Tell me everything--why did you start looking for me?"

"I never stopped looking for you."  He said.  Not for twenty-four
long years, not until just a couple of days ago.  "Because I 
knew you were out there, waiting for me to come get you."

A strange expression crossed her face, and she looked 
away from him, studying the IV needle in the back of her
hand.  "I really meant, how did you know about---Sarah
Chandler?  From Dana?"

He reddened, realizing his declaration of devotion to her
had only made her feel uncomfortable.  Releasing her 
hand,  he started at the beginning, telling her about 
Scully's unofficial investigation and how it had turned official 
after Leigh MacGraw's murder.  "We knew then that you 
weren't just a free spirit who'd taken off on a whim.  Scully 
was afraid for you, and that was all it took for her to go into 
pit bull mode."

Samantha chuckled at his choice of words.  "I won't tell her
you said that."

He laughed, glad that a little of the tension between them
had begun to pass.  "Please don't."

"So how did you figure out who I really was?"

"Scully saw a picture of you--one taken just after you were
released from the hospital in Charleston.  You were a little
older, but the resemblance between 'Sarah Chandler' and my
little sister was too striking to dismiss."

"So Dana saw my parents--saw the Chandlers...."  This time
Samantha was the one who faltered.  "God, I feel like I'm
two different people."

In a way she was.  One woman who had lived two separate
lives.  "If you'd feel more comfortable, I don't mind
calling you Sarah."

She shook her head. "No.  I've spent the past couple of
years trying to find out who I really am.  Sarah Chandler is
a lie, even if it's a happy lie."

Tears surprised him, stinging his eyes.  "And were you
happy?"

She met his wary gaze.  "Yes, I was happy.  Mom and Dad--the
Chandlers--they were great, Fox.  They loved me and took
very good care of me.  I was so much luckier than I might
have been."

She really had no idea how true that statement was, he
thought, remembering his own bleak, painful youth in that
cold, angry house of cards.  He reached out and took her
hand again.  "I'm glad, Samantha.  I'm so glad."

She met his gaze.  "What about our parents, Fox?  Have 
you told them yet?"

He looked down at their twined fingers.  She had adored
their father as much as he'd seemed to love her.  He dreaded
having to tell her about his death.

"Fox?"

He met the question in her eyes.  "Samantha, Dad died three
years ago.  But Mom's still alive.  She's living in
Connecticut now.  I wanted to wait until you were awake
before I called her."

Tears pooled in Samantha's eyes.  "Daddy's dead?" 

He squeezed her hand, his own tears spilling.  "I'm sorry,
Samantha.  I know this must be hard for you."

"It's just--strange.  I know it's been years since I saw any
of you, and I've lived another life since then, but--"  She
lifted her other hand to her face, brushing away tears. 
"It's like I remember everything as if it were yesterday,
Fox.  It's like I'm still eight years old and we're still
fighting over what television show to watch.  And yet
here you are, a grown man.  I know you---but I don't 
know you at all."

He nodded, understanding even though her words felt like
a knife in his heart.  "It's felt like just yesterday for 
twenty-four years, Samantha.  But I look at you now..."

Her lower lip trembled.  "Poor Fox.  Were you expecting
me to be eight years old forever?"

"I guess so."  He couldn't help but remember the little
clones he'd seen in Canada, the girls with his sister's big
eyes and dair hair.  That had been what he'd expected
to find when he found his sister, hadn't?  Certainly not
this grown up woman.  "Doesn't matter now."

"Of course it matters."  She tugged his hand, making 
him look her in the eye.  "I'm sorry--I can't imagine how
it must have been for you, Mom and Dad."

He had so much to tell her--and so much of it bad.
It could wait until she was stronger.

Until he was stronger.


*  *  *  *  *

N.E. Georgetown Medical Center
8:25 a.m.


Scully stopped by Northeast Georgetown Medical Center as
soon as she got back to D.C.   She used her credentials to
get room information on Annelle  Hollis and Alan Pendrell. 
Pendrell's room was closer so she stopped there first. 

He was sitting cross-legged on the bed watching television
when she walked in.  His left eye was swollen almost shut,
the skin around it a deep shade of purple.  He looked
greatly relieved when Scully entered the room--until he
realized he was clad only in a hospital gown that probably
didn't close all the way in the back.  

She stifled a weary smile and pulled up a chair.  "Just
can't leave you alone for a minute, huh, Pendrell?"

His coloring was quickly escalating to bright pink.  "What
happened to you and Agent Mulder?  Did you find the Pinck
Warehouse?"

She nodded.  "Better than that.  We found Mulder's sister."

Pendrell's one good eye widened.  "You're kidding.  For real?"

"Yup."  She slumped in the chair, the last of her energy
seeping away.  

"I always assumed she was dead."

"So did I," Scully admitted.  "I wanted to believe she might
still be alive, but deep down I think I was convinced it
simply wasn't possible."

"And now you feel guilty."

She looked up at him, surprised by the understanding she saw
in his eyes.  "Yes, I suppose I do.  I feel like I failed
Mulder because I couldn't believe."

"Maybe it was enough that you wanted to."

She arched her eyebrows.  "That's what Mulder said."

"So listen to him."

Her lips curved in a little smile.  "I usually get just the
opposite advice." 

"You look beat, Dana.  You should be home in bed."

She slouched deeper into the chair.  She WAS beat.  She felt
like one big bruise.  "Trying to get rid of me?"

"No, of course not."  His smile was wry, self-deprecating.  

"Maybe I could nap right here in this comfy chair."  She
didn't think she was kidding.  The chair WAS comfortable,
and she was so tired.  Would it really hurt to take a quick
nap....

She remembered nothing else until she awoke sometime later.

"Welcome back to the world, Agent Scully."  Annelle Hollis'
low drawl greeted her as her eyes fluttered open.  Hollis
was sitting on the edge of Pendrell's bed, her bare feet
tucked up under her.  Pendrell, Scully noted, had changed
from the hospital gown to his street clothes, just as
Annelle apparently had.  Except for the nasty shiner
Pendrell sported, they both looked considerably fresher than
she felt.

She stretched, noting that the light pouring through the
window was no longer morning light.  She glanced at her bare
wrist and realized she'd lost her watch somewhere along the
way.  "What time is it?"

"About a quarter 'til noon."

Scully rubbed her eyes, trying to push away the lingering
effects of sleep.  "You should have awakened me."

"I was going to, but Alan wouldn't let me."  Annelle arched
her eyebrows slightly.  "The doctor came by while you were
sleeping--we're getting sprung.  All we have to do is wait
for the paper work.  Don't suppose we could bum a ride with
you, since Agent Mulder has my car and Alan's was stolen
last night?"

Scully stretched her aching muscles.  "Of course."  She
stood and crossed to the window, glancing through the
curtains at the street below.  The day was in full swing,
lunch time traffic thick.  The bright midday sunlight hurt
her eyes and she turned back toward Pendrell and Hollis,
reaching into her jacket for her cellular phone.  

It was out of service. 

She guessed the beating it had taken during the explosion
had finally taken its toll on the poor piece of plastic and
circuitry.  She'd been amazed it was still functioning when
Mulder gave it to her at the hospital the night before,
considering.  She pocketed the phone and crossed toward
Pendrell's bed.  "May I use your phone?"  

Pendrell waved toward the phone on the bedside cabinet. 
Scully dialled Mulder's cell phone number.  After three
rings, she was informed that the customer was unavailable. 
Maybe Samantha's room at University Hospital was situated in
a dead pocket.  

Using her phone card, she called Samantha's room directly. 
After several rings, she was transferred to the front desk. 
"I'm trying to reach Sama--um, Sarah Chandler in room 628."

After a pause the operator said, "Ms. Chandler checked out
of the hospital about thirty minutes ago, ma'am."

Scully's eyebrows rose.  Checked out?  Surprise quickly gave
way to anxiety.  Someone had tried to kill Samantha last
night--had someone tried again?  Taken her, left Mulder hurt
or...or worse?

She tried to calm herself, but she'd seen too much, lost too
much in the last few years.  She couldn't help but
contemplate the worst case scenario, because all too often
these days, the worst thing that could happen DID happen to
her and Mulder.

She hung up and dialled one more number.  "Eleanore, it's
Dana Scully.  Is he in?"

In a moment, she was greeted with a growl.  "Skinner."

"Sir, it's Scully.  Have you heard from Agent Mulder?"

"Just an hour ago.  He said he'd been trying to reach you
but your cell phone wasn't working.  He also tried your home
phone but your answering machine wasn't picking up--probably
got messed up when the place was being tossed."

"What did he say, sir?"

"He's taking his sister up to his mother's place in
Connecticut.  He asked for six weeks of personal leave."

"Six weeks?"  She sat on the edge of Pendrell's bed,
stunned.  

"It was a reasonable request under the circumstance, Agent
Scully."

But six weeks--without saying a word to her, without even
saying goodbye?  "Yes, sir," she murmured into the phone. 
"Thank you."  She replaced the receiver in its cradle, her
whole body going numb.

Six weeks.  

"What's wrong, Dana?"  Pendrell put his hand on her arm.

She moved away from him, realizing that she couldn't bear
his touch.  It was the wrong hand, the wrong man.  The right
man was on his way to Connecticut and the rest of his life,
leaving her behind with little thought and no warning.  She
took a deep breath and straightened her expression, drawing
on years of experience in hiding her emotions. 
"Nothing--just caught by surprise by something.  So, how
soon before your release comes through?"

With impeccable timing, two orderlies entered the hospital
room, pushing wheelchairs.  Pendrell groaned, and Annelle
rolled her eyes, but they were used to having to follow
rules, being employees of the federal government.  Scully
went on ahead of them to fetch the car and pick them up at
the front door of the hospital.

Having Pendrell and Hollis to deal with helped Scully defer
her thoughts of Mulder.  But as soon as she deposited them
at their respective apartments, her doubts and fears crept
in on her.  

And she found herself heading away from her apartment.

Her mother's eyebrows rose slightly as she opened the door
to Scully's knock.  "Dana, what is it?"

"I--"  She realized she didn't know what to say.  She
entered her mother's house silently, heading instinctively
for the kitchen table.  Her safe place.  

Margaret took a tea pot from the counter and poured tea for
both of them without a word.  She set a cup in front of
Scully and sat across from her.  "What's happened, Dana?"

"Samantha was released from the hospital."

"So soon?"

Scully nodded.  "Mulder took her to Greenwich to see their
mom."

Margaret smiled.  "Mrs. Mulder will be beside herself."

Scully nodded again, tears pricking her eyes.  I wanted to
see that, she realized.  I wanted to see Samantha reunited
with her mother.  

For six years, she'd had a tremendous stake in the fate of
Samantha Mulder.  She'd sacrificed so much to Mulder's
quest, sometimes willingly and sometimes not.  Sharing in
his happiness and that of his family should have been her
reward. 

Instead, she was being left behind.  Ditched again.

And damn it, it wasn't right.  It wasn't fair.

It hurt.

"What aren't you telling me, Dana?"  Her mother put her hand
over Scully's.

"He took six weeks personal leave."

Margaret's eyebrows twitched slightly.  "It's a good idea."

Scully nodded.  "Yes, I know."

"But?"

"But he didn't say good bye."  She looked away from her
mother, embarrassed by the admission.  She was a grown
woman, and God knew she'd put up with a lot worse from him
over the years.  Logically, she knew that Mulder was right
to take this time and reconnect with his family.

But a part of her also recognized that she was no longer the
most important person in his life.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she met her mother's
gentle gaze.  "Everything's changing for Mulder and me, Mom.
And I don't know how to make it stop."


*  *  *  *  *


Greenwich, CT
February 19, 1998
8:43 p.m.


Fox Mulder glanced at his watch.  Almost nine, and he still
hadn't been able to reach Scully.  In the whirlwind of
activity since this morning, he'd not had time to feel
frustrated, but now he'd been trying every number he had for
her since around 6 p.m. with no luck, and he was starting to
worry.  Did she even know he was gone?  Surely--he couldn't
imagine that she wouldn't have tried to reach him by now. 
Probably had talked to Skinner and found out that way.  But
he still wanted to talk to her.

He looked out the window at the darkness, realizing that the
last time he'd been here, Scully had been with him.  Had it
really been only a few days ago?  A lifetime had seemed to
pass in the interim.  

"Fox?"

He turned from the window to meet his sister's curious gaze.
"You and Mom catching up?"

"Yeah.  She's making hot chocolate--want some?"

Trying to recapture the old times, he thought.  "Sure."  He
reached out, intending to slip his arm around her shoulders,
but she pulled back.  He dropped his arm to his side
quickly.  "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, tears sparkling in her eyes.  "No, I'm
sorry, Fox.  I'm sorry--I just--it's all so strange."

"I know."  Nothing was turning out like he thought it would.
God--had he ever really expected to find her?  He was so
unprepared for the reality.  He didn't know what to say to
her, when or if to touch her.  The preliminary DNA tests had
relieved any doubts about her identity--she WAS Samantha
Mulder, not a clone, not an imposter.  He saw his mother in
her face, his father in her eyes.  He saw flashes of the
smart, irritating eight-year-old he'd lost so many years
ago.  But she was a full-grown woman now, a person apart
from him or his mother or their frozen memories. 

She was his sister, but she was a stranger.

"Did you get Dana?"  Samantha asked as they crossed the
living room toward the kitchen.

"No.  Her cell phone got banged up in the explosion, and her
answering machine at home isn't picking up."

"So she doesn't know we're gone?"

"I'm sure she's talked to Skinner by now, so she knows."  He
frowned slightly as he followed her into the kitchen. 
Surely Scully would understand why he'd needed to do this. 
She'd been there for him the other times he'd been close to
finding his sister--she knew his heart.  She'd understand.  

His cell phone rang as his mother handed him a mug of
steaming chocolate milk.  He set the mug on the table in
front of him and grabbed his phone.  "Scully?"

"Good guess."  Her voice, low and slightly dry, greeted him.

"Listen, I'm sorry for bugging out without getting in touch
with you."

"Not your fault--I'm phone-challenged at the moment," she
said.  "I've finally gotten my home phone working now, but
the cell phone is a total loss.  I've put in a request for a
new one from Communications.  So, you're at your mom's now?"

"Yeah.  Having hot chocolate."  He tried to chuckle, but
there was something in her voice that made him uneasy.  On
the surface, she sounded like herself, but there was a dark
undertone, a hint of unease in her words.  "Look, I know I
should have tried harder to get you--"

"Don't worry about it, Mulder.  You did what you had to do. 
I know that."

There WAS something wrong.  He could feel it vibrating
through the phone line.  "Scully--"

"I just wanted to call to make sure you got there safely,
that's all.  I don't want to keep you--I guess you and
Samantha and your mom have a bit of catching up to do."

"Yeah, we do."

"I'll see you when you get back."

"Scully, wait."  He glanced at his mother and sister,
conscious of their interest in the phone call.  He felt
trapped between them and Scully, wanting to do the right
thing for everyone but not sure how.  There were things he
should have said to Scully before now, things that shouldn't
wait another minute, but somehow he couldn't bring himself
to express the things he wanted to say to her in front of an
audience.  And he couldn't turn his back on his mother and
Samantha right now, not even for Scully.

It could wait.  It would have to wait.  "I'll call you
tomorrow and we'll talk more, okay?"

"I'm taking tomorrow off--Mom and I are going to drive to
Norfolk to visit some old friends this weekend.  I'll be
back in the office on Monday.  We can catch up then, okay?"

"Okay."  He was about to say something--anything--to prolong
the contact, but a soft click signalled that she'd already
hung up the phone.  Slowly he pocketed the cellphone and
turned to Samantha and his mother.  "Finally got Scully."

Samantha nodded and smiled, but his mother looked concerned.
She knew enough about him and Scully to know that something
was wrong.  

But she waited until Samantha pleaded weariness and went to
bed before she said anything to him.  "Was Dana upset that
you left without telling her?"

"No--she understood."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know."  He dropped onto the sofa, stretching his
legs out in front of him.  "I'm not sure--but something
isn't right."

"It's a strange time, Fox.  For all of us."  

He looked up at her, noted the lines of weariness creasing
her soft face.  Even happy occasions took a toll--and he and
his mother had been through too much in the past few years
to trust happiness.  It was too damned fleeting.

"I don't know what I was expecting.  What I thought she'd be
like.  After that other woman--"  His mother's eyes darkened
with pain.  "I'm still afraid to believe it's her."

"All the evidence indicates that she's Samantha, Mom. 
Somebody went to a lot of trouble to make sure we never
found her."

"Somebody?"

He couldn't say what he was thinking.  There was a part of
her past she refused to think about, and in truth, it was
something he didn't want to face, either.  So he sat in
silence, and she sat in silence, and time ticked inexorably
away as they both avoided the truth.

But he knew they were thinking of the same person, the same
lies.  


*  *  *  *  *


Norfolk, VA
February 20, 1996
12:34 p.m.


"So it's set--Saturday, August 28th, 2:00 p.m. in the
Seaman's Chapel in Portsmouth."  Lorna Youngs took another
sip of her marguerita.

Scully jotted the date and time in her pocket calendar. 
"Got it.  You're not going to make me wear pink or anything,
are you?"

Lorna chuckled.  "I'd die first, kiddo."

Scully laughed.  "Yeah, because I'd shoot you."

"Got it all figured out now?"  Benton Crane returned from a
quick trip to the men's room and took his seat between his
fiancee and Margaret Scully.

"Just about."  Lorna gave him a long-suffering look before
nudging Scully.  "He thinks we should just get married at
the justice of the peace and skip the ceremony.  Have you
ever heard anything so unromantic?"

Scully shrugged.  "I don't know--I can see wanting to skip
the rigamarole and getting down to the business of being
together for the rest of your lives."  A little twinge of
longing curled around her insides.  One day's separation,
and she was already missing Mulder like hell.  She didn't
want to think about what the next six weeks would be like.

"So," Benton said, leaning toward Scully, "you never
finished telling us what happened after you and Mulder found
his sister."

"That was about it."  Scully glanced at her mother, who met
her eyes with tender concern.  She sighed softly, wishing
she didn't feel like a fragile flower everyone was tiptoeing
around.  Skinner had been so solicitous it was scary--he'd
wanted her to take the next week off instead of just Friday.
And her mother was studiously avoiding the topic of Mulder,
despite the fact that she was obviously thrilled for his
good news.  

Scully was thrilled, too.  Ecstatic.  She'd watched him tear
himself apart for years, risking life, reputation, sanity
all for the fragile hope of finding his sister.  This was a
magnificent, unexpected reward for her loyalty--to be part
of finding Samantha, of bringing her back to her family, to 
her brother.  

If she also had to step back, take a secondary role in
Mulder's life as a result, then she'd have to learn how to
do that.  He'd never made promises to her.  She'd known from
the beginning where his priorities lay.  His tunnel vision
now came as no surprise.

Then again, it didn't have to be a surprise to hurt like
hell.

"So he and his sister are with their mom now?" Benton asked.

Scully nodded.  "He's taking six weeks' personal leave."

Lorna's eyebrows rose.  "That long?"

"Not so long a time when you consider he hasn't seen her in
almost a quarter of a century," Margaret defended.  

"I suppose."  Lorna looked pointedly at Scully.  "So, what
are you going to do now that Mulder's run off again?"

Scully picked at her salad with her fork, tamping down a
sense of irritation.  "Work goes on."  She speared a
mushroom.  "And he'll be back."

"Even now that he's found what he's looking for?"

"There are still questions we haven't answered."

"But whose questions are they?" Lorna pressed.  "Yours or
his?"

Scully put down her fork.  She met Lorna's direct gaze. 
"Both.  Finding Samantha wasn't his only goal, Lorna.  But
right now, he needs time to focus on her, and that's fine
with me.  When he gets back, we'll regroup and we'll go on
from there."

Lorna nodded as if she'd expected exactly that answer. 
"Okay, I'm convinced."

Scully stared at her for a moment, then released the roiling
tension inside and managed a grin.  "Smooth, Doone."

"Well, I figured you were too stubborn to listen to my
advice.  Maybe you'll listen to your own."
 
Scully realized that she DID feel better.  Mulder's decision
to take time off was no reflection on their relationship. 
He wasn't trying to get away from her--he was simply trying
to get to know a sister he hadn't seen since she was an
eight-year-old child. 

When he came back, things would be better. 


*  *  *  *  *


Seaman's Chapel 
Portsmouth, Virginia
August 28th, 1998
1:32 p.m.


Six months later, Scully was still having to tell herself
that things would get better.  Mulder's six weeks of
personal leave had passed with agonizing slowness. He had
called almost every day, but their conversations were brief
and often cryptic, as if Samantha or his mother were
listening in the background.  The few times they'd talked
freely, the conversation was almost always about Samantha
and the difficulties he was having in reconnecting with her. 
Samantha had spent over twenty years as another person, and
her internal schism was taking a toll on her.  

Mulder was at a loss to deal with her mood swings--some days
she was free and affectionate; other times she was guarded
and stand-offish. He was terrified of saying the wrong
words, doing something to drive her away from him and his
mother.  He'd been a basketcase when Samantha had flown to
Charleston alone to see her adoptive parents.  He'd called 
Scully twice, sometimes three times a day--mostly for 
reassurance, she supposed.  His mother seemed to be sharing 
his angst, and the pressure of being strong for Caroline
while dealing with his own fears and doubts was hard on him. 
More than once Scully had considered catching the next
flight to Connecticut to hold his hand.

But she couldn't spend the rest of her life mothering him. 
That was a decision she'd come to during their six week
separation.  She would listen and sympathize and advise, but
the only person who could fix Mulder was Mulder.  He had to
face his demons alone.  And she had to have enough faith in
him to believe he could do it.  After all, he was almost
back to normal on the work front.  He had actually started
making intuitive leaps again, spouting those wild theories
that drove her crazy.  And it wasn't like they'd ever spent
all that much of their off time together, anyway.  

They'd been hearing rumblings about changes in the Bureau
infrastructure--it was doubtful anyone would try to tinker
with their division, but Skinner was on edge and making life
miserable for everyone, particularly poor Mulder.  Under the
circumstances, it was  no wonder Mulder was preoccupied and
stressed out emotionally.  She couldn't expect to be the
center of his attention right now. 

But secretly, she was heartened by the fact that he had
agreed to accompany her to Lorna and Benton's wedding that
weekend, even though Samantha was moving to Cambridge, 
Massachusetts, that same weekend.  In fine Mulder fashion,
he was doing it the hard way--he'd flown to Boston Friday
night to meet Samantha and some of her friends to get the
moving process started, but he was catching an 11:00 a.m.
flight to Norfolk and should be in Portsmouth in plenty of
time for the wedding.   She harbored a quiet hope that they
might finally be getting back to where they'd been just a
few months ago, when the possibilities between them had
seemed endless.   

She had resisted the temptation to call him, trusting him to
remember all by himself.  With a photographic memory, it
should be a piece of cake.

She kept telling herself that all the way through the
processional.  His plane was simply late.  He'd had trouble
renting a car at the airport.  Traffic between Norfolk and
Portsmouth must be snarled.

But by the time Lorna and Benton were declared man and wife,
she recognized the truth.

Mulder had ditched her again.


*  *  *  *  *


Cambridge, MA
August 29, 1998
11:53 a.m.


The apartment was too small for a moving crew of seven
adults, but Samantha had the soul of a drill sergeant and
kept things moving.  They were making incredible time by
Mulder's watch--they'd been working for only a couple of
hours and already the moving van was empty and Samantha had
gotten a good start on unpacking boxes.  

The change in his sister over the past six months was
astonishing.  When he'd seen her outside that Baltimore
warehouse, she'd been thin, pale and exhausted.  But this
Samantha sparkled like a jewel, her ready smile and
infectious laughter drawing people to her like flies to
honey.  She'd had no trouble finding people to help her
move.

Her Yale roommate, Anne Milliken, had made the trip to
Boston to help Samantha move, bringing along her boyfriend
Larry for extra muscle.  Mulder had called Eve Wentworth
once he'd arrived in Boston, and she'd offered herself and
her new husband David as extra sets of hands.

And then there was Preston Powell.  A couple of months
earlier, Samantha had hooked up with her old high school pal
Preston, and now they looked to be quite an item.  Preston
was a couple of years older than Samantha, a tall, lean
green-eyed Boston tax lawyer who came from a wealthy
Charleston family.  Five years in Massachusetts hadn't done
much to temper his coastal Carolina drawl, and he exuded
easy Southern charm.  He was the kind of man any mother
would want her daughter to marry. 

Mulder hated him.

"Stop glaring, Fox."  Eve Wentworth poked him in his ribs
and handed him a glass of water. 

"Glaring?  Me?"

"Preston seems like a really nice guy.  Dishy, too, and rich
as Croesus."  She tugged the sleeve of Mulder's t-shirt and
pulled him over to the window, away from prying ears. 
"You're trying too hard, you know."

He arched one eyebrow.  "Trying too hard to do what?"

"To be a brother.  You think there's some kind of criterion
you have to meet or you'll get thrown out of the Big
Brothers' Club.  It doesn't work that way.  You need to
relax, stop trying so damned hard to be indispensible to
her."

He chuckled, but he wasn't amused.  "Indispensible?  Hah.
Invisible is more like it."

Eve arched her eyebrows.  "What do you expect her to do? 
Make you the center of her universe?  You're just her
brother.  You'll be lucky if she remembers your birthday
every year."

"I just thought--"  He frowned, not sure WHAT he had thought
would happen once he found her.  He only knew that this
wasn't it.  He hadn't thought he would end up barely
peripheral to her life.

"You thought she'd need you more, didn't you?"

He met Eve's astute gaze.  "Yeah."  He leaned against the
window frame.  "I was her champion for years, Eve--everybody
else gave up, but I didn't.  I believed.  And now, I feel
like--"  He shook his head.  "I feel superfluous." 

"Are you disappointed in her?"

"God no!"  He made a small gesture toward the corner, where
Samantha was directing Preston and David as they set up a
bookcase near the hallway.  "She's beautiful and smart and a
lot more together than I'll ever be.  She's great--she's
perfect.  The Chandlers were obviously wonderful to her. 
God knows she had a better life than I'd ever hoped."

"So what's the problem?"

"I guess I always expected that when I found her, she'd be
broken and I'd have to fix her."

"And now you find out that you're the one who was broken all
along."  Eve nibbled her lower lip, her eyes dark with
sympathy.  

Mulder passed his hand over his jaw.  He'd forgotten his
razor--he'd have to borrow his sister's before he went to
the airport.  "While I was dedicating my life to finding
her, she was out living her own life.  And she was just
fine.  I wonder why she even wanted to know the truth about
who she really was.  Sarah Chandler had a better life than
Samantha Mulder ever would have."

"I think it says something that she's decided to go by
Samantha Mulder after all those years as Sarah." Eve
squeezed his arm.  "And even if you can't see it, I can see
that she thinks you're great."

"She remembers a twelve-year-old boy, Eve.  Samantha doesn't
even know who I am."

"At least she cares enough to find out who you really are." 

"I think I make her nervous."

"You probably scare her, Fox.  You had twenty-four years to
make her the focus of your life, and now you seem to expect
her to focus her life on you in exchange."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"  

"I'm glad that she's happy and whole, Eve.  I had terrible
nightmares about what she might be like when I finally found
her."  Unbidden, the image of a sullen young drug addict
entered his mind.  Poor Lucy Householder, broken beyond
repair by what Carl Wade had done to her--isn't that what
he'd expected to find when he finally found his sister?  "It
could have been so much worse."

Eve nodded, sympathetic.  "So why can't you be happy?"

"I am happy."

"Wrong.  You're miserable.  Why?"

He slumped against the window frame.  "I can't get it right,
Eve."  

"Get what right?"

"Any of it.  I can't get anything right.  I don't know how
to handle Samantha or Mom or...."

"Or Scully?"  Eve held up her left hand.  A diamond
solitaire and wedding set sparkled on her ring finger.  "I
seem to recall a little pact we made, remember?  I kept my
end of the deal, but you, my dear, are conspicuously
unattached."

"Things happened."

"Samantha happened, you mean."

He frowned at her.  "Do you think this is easy for me?  I'm
trying to do the right thing for everyone.  My mother is
having trouble adjusting to everything, Samantha doesn't
seem to know how to deal with me, and Scully--"  He sighed,
raking his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. 
"Scully's a rock, Eve, but she's different now."

"Different how?"

"There's...space...between us."

"Who put it there?"

"I suppose I did, but when I try to approach her, she steps
back.  She's keeping the distance there."

"Maybe because you've let her believe that's what you need."
Eve glanced over her shoulder to where her husband and Anne
were unpacking a box.  "When I flew to Boston to accept
David's proposal, he thought I was joking.  I had to work
hard to convince him I was serious.  And even then, he tells
me, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I think he
really believed that we'd get to Vegas and, as Elvis was
asking me to recite the vows, I'd say, "Oops, sorry--just
kidding.'"

Mulder chuckled at the mental image of his friend, her
husband and an Elvis impersonator in a gaudy Las Vegas
wedding chapel.  "And your point is?"

"My point is, no doubt your Scully's been through hell
because of you more than once, and maybe, just maybe, she's
tired of being the one who always bends over backwards to
make things work."

"God, I'm glad you're my FRIEND, Eve," he said with a wry
half-smile.

"I love you, Fox, but I'm not blind to your faults."  She
grinned at him.  

"The weird thing is, Scully and Samantha are really
close, and they never even see each other.  And here I am,
juggling my time between the two of them, and all I seem to
be able to do is alienate them both."  He sighed deeply. 
"You want to hear something really horrible?  I haven't 
invited Scully along on a single one of my visits to
Samantha, even though I know she'd probably like to come
along.  Know why?"

Eve frowned as if she had a pretty good suspicion.  "Why?"

"Because I'm afraid they'd ignore me.  They'd go off
together and leave me out in the cold, because I'm a stupid
shit who can't figure out how to please either one of them."

He turned toward the window, squinting at the bright
sunlight.  "Isn't that lovely?" 

"Yup, just lovely."  Eve sighed.  "Well, at least you're 
making a step in the right direction, going to this wedding 
with Scully.  What time does your plane leave this 
afternoon?"

"It's this morning at eleven-fifteen."

"Oh, Fox, don't even joke about that."

He frowned.  "I'm not."  

Eve's eyes widened and her mouth formed an "O." 

"What?"  He glanced at his watch--9:28 a.m. Plenty of 
time, though he should probably hop in the shower
in a minute.

Then he realized that the last time he'd looked at his
watch, it had been 9:28.  A good twenty minutes ago, at
least.

The second hand wasn't moving.

"Oh, shit."

"Honey, it's almost noon--you've missed your flight."

"Shit, shit, shit!" he growled, stripping off his t-shirt as
he darted for the bathroom.  "Eve," he called over his
shoulder, "please see if there's a flight out of Logan in
the next hour?"

He showered in record time, changing into the suit he'd
brought to wear to the wedding.  He didn't have a hope of
making it to the wedding now, but maybe he could get there
in time for the reception.

Eve and David drove him to the airport and dropped him off. 
The later flight to Norfolk would take just over an hour,
assuming everything went well.  He could be in Portsmouth by
three.  

He was the last person to board the plane, and he made it by
seconds.  He dropped into his seat and buckled in, ignoring
the stares of his fellow passengers, concentrating instead
on what hell he was going to say to Scully when he got
there.


*  *  *  *  *

Seaman's Reception Hall
Portsmouth, VA
3:05 p.m.

The new Mrs. Benton Crane kicked off her cream-colored pumps
and sat down next to Scully at one of the round tables
scattered across the reception hall.  Her new husband was in
the corner, talking to Scully's mother and a couple of other
women Scully recognized as Navy wives.  Lorna glanced toward
Benton, her heart shining in her eyes, then turned back to
Scully.  "So, the bastard didn't show."

"Nope."  Scully toyed with the swizzle stick in the club
soda and lime she was nursing.  "His flight made it to 
Norfolk with no problem, but he wasn't on it."

"What I can't figure out is why you're not hopping mad about
it."

"What would be the point?"  

"You'd feel better."

"No, I wouldn't.  I'd just feel mad, and I don't really have
a right to feel mad at Mulder."

"Bullshit."

"Lorna, I know how he is.  I'd known him for only two days
when he first told me that finding out what happened to his
sister was all that mattered to him.  I made the choice to
join him in that quest with my eyes wide open.  He never
lied to me.  He never misled me.  If I got hurt, it's
because I set myself up for it.  It's not his fault."

"I think you're making excuses for him.  He owes you more
than this."

"I don't want to be an obligation to him, Lorna."  Scully
took a sip of soda.  The carbonation bubbles sparkled in her
throat.  

"So what are you going to do now?  Ask for a transfer?"

Scully frowned.  "No, of course not."

"You can work with him after this?"

"Lorna, haven't you been listening to me?"  Scully put down
the drink.  "Nothing has changed.  Mulder is still my
partner and my friend.  I know I can trust him to cover my
back.  If I really need him, he'll be there."
  
"But?"

"But that's it.  That's all I can expect from him.  It's
been enough up to this point, and it'll be enough from here
on."

"So you're telling me you're not in love with him."

Scully lifted her chin and met Lorna's gaze.  "I'm not in
love with him."  

"You are such a liar."

Scully pressed her lips together, annoyed.  "I'm not saying
I haven't thought about being in love with him.  But it was
a risky idea to begin with, and everything that's happened
over the past few months just proves that Mulder and I are
meant to be friends, not lovers."

"They're not mutually exclusive, you know."

Scully sighed, exasperated.  "You're the one who thinks he's
a bastard--why are you trying to convince me I'm madly in
love with him?"

"I just want to make sure you're not kidding yourself."

"My eyes are wide open, Lorna.  I'm a big girl, and I know
what I'm doing."  She took another drink of soda, sucking an
sliver of ice into her mouth.  She crunched the ice,
repeating her last statement silently to herself.  I know
what I'm doing.

Lorna's gaze shifted, her eyes narrowing.  "Good thing,
because here comes trouble."  

Scully turned in her chair, following Lorna's gaze toward
the doorway of the reception hall.  Her stomach flipped and
sank.

Mulder had finally arrived.


*  *  *  *  *


The reception hall bore the tell-tale signs of a party that
was almost over--half-empty cups of punch, champagne flutes 
and napkins crumpled on plates adorned half the small round
tables that filled the room, while the crowd dispersed into
conversational clusters along the periphery.

Scully and Lorna were at a table across the reception hall,
both seated and looking his way.  Heat flushed his neck and
face as he crossed the room toward them.  He steeled himself
with every step, knowing that Scully was going to be angry. 
He was in for one of two things, depending on her mood--a
subtle but deadly tongue-lashing or a far more worrisome
deep freeze.  He was hoping for the tongue-lashing.

He got neither.  She merely arched one eyebrow at him.

Her friend Lorna didn't let the moment pass, however. 
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Punctuality."

"I suppose this isn't a good time to ask to kiss the bride?"

Lorna chuckled, but her eyes were dark with irritation.  She
shifted in her chair, sliding her feet into a pair of satin
pumps, and rose.  "I wouldn't depend on catching the garter,
either, big guy."  She glanced at Scully as if to make sure
that she didn't mind being left alone with him, then crossed
the room to where Benton was talking to Margaret Scully and
a couple of older women.

Mulder sat in the chair that Lorna vacated.  "I'm really
sorry."

"Forgot the time?"  

He frowned slightly, not sure if she was angry or not. 
Frankly, he'd prefer outright anger; at least he could deal
with that.  This seeming indifference, however, made his
stomach hurt.  "Not exactly.  Watch stopped."

She nodded.  "I'm guessing 'Lucky' has never been your
nickname."

"Not in the past few years.  I'm really sorry."

She looked him over with the critical eye of a scientist. 
"Actually, I'm kinda glad you didn't make it for the
wedding.  You look like crap."

He ran his hand over his stubbled jaw.  He hadn't had time
to borrow that razor.  "I knew I should've worn the nose
ring--it's just not the complete look without it."  He
glanced at her, noting the glow of her pale skin against
the glossy sapphire silk of her attendant's gown.  Her small
gold cross glimmered, drawing his eyes to the soft swell of
her breasts.  He so seldom got to see her like this, her
hair pulled up and framing her face in soft tendrils, her
slender body for once not camouflaged by over-sized jackets
hiding a bulky gun and holster.  He kicked himself for not
keeping better track of the time.

"You should've just called when you missed the flight,
Mulder.  No need to fly all the way here just to apologize."
She took a sip from her cup, taking a small piece of ice
into her mouth.  She pursed her lips slightly,  sucking on
the ice.  Unexpectedly, heat raced over his body, turning
his skin to fire and his bones to jelly. 

He mentally flailed around for a reply.  "I figured it was
the least I owed you--"

Wrong answer, he realized immediately, as her blue eyes
narrowed, her look of irritation dousing his earlier heat. 
"All you owe me is trust and loyalty, Mulder--not breakneck
flights to Virginia to get in on the end of a wedding
reception."

Her words prodded him in his sore spot.  "What are you
trying to suggest, Scully--that my priorities are screwed
up?"  

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

She sighed.  "You're trying too hard, Mulder.  You have this
pathological need to take responsibility for the happiness
of the people you love, but all you're doing is making
yourself and everyone else crazy."

"I can't just ignore Samantha and Mom."

Scully put her hand on his arm, leaning in.  She pinned him
with her gaze.  "I've never asked you to."

He stared at her, understanding dawning.  She was right--
she'd never asked him to put her first.  He felt torn
between Scully and his family because he'd put himself in
that position.  He was the one who'd begun to make Scully
the focus of his life in the first place.  Primacy was
something she obviously neither needed nor wanted.  She
probably never had.  

With a rush of pain, he realized it was time to let go. 

He leaned back in his chair, overwhelmed by the realization
that he was closing a door in his life that had once held so
much promise.  Something inside him writhed in anguish. 
Could he really go back to how it was before--friends and
partners but nothing more?  

But it never WAS like that before, he recognized with 
dawning surprise. Even from the very beginning, there 
had always been the tantalizing possibility of something 
more between them.  The moment he'd turned around in his 
office to see her there, not just a photograph in a personnel 
file but a living, breathing woman with intelligent eyes and a 
quirky half-smile, he'd realized that his plan to hate her and
drive her away wasn't going to be as easy as he thought.

He knew now that hating her was impossible.  Driving her
away was unthinkable.  If he was destined to forever and
only be her friend, he'd be the best friend she ever had. 
And it would be enough.  It had to be enough.  Because he 
couldn't bear to lose her. And if he continued to cling to this 
crazy hope for something more between them, he'd drive her 
away.  Hell, it was already happening. 

Scully let go of his arm and sat back.  "How's the moving
going?" 

He swallowed the lump in his throat.  "Much more quickly
than I thought it would."

"Guess you don't need an extra hand?"

"No." He shook his head quickly, before temptation had 
time to take root, and pasted on a smart-ass grin.  "You're 
a bit overdressed."

"You need a ride back to the airport?"

"I'll call a cab."

"I don't mind."

"I've already been enough trouble for one day, Scully.  I'll
just go say hi to your mom and go.  I'll see you in the
office on Monday?"

"Friday, Mulder--remember?  My brother's ship is docking
tomorrow, and Mom and I are staying in Norfolk through
Thursday."

"Yeah, right."  Mulder squelched a sigh.  God, when had they
gotten so out of sync with each other?  He remembered a time
when they could practically finish each other's thoughts, 
and now he couldn't even remember something as simple and
rare as Scully's vacation days.

He couldn't understand why he should feel such a sense of
isolation now that he'd made this decision about their
relationship.  Scully wasn't going anywhere, after all.  She was 
still his best friend, his right hand, the one who covered his
ass 
and bound his wounds.  She didn't have to be his lover to be his
other half.  Nothing really had to change.  It would all work
out.

Come next Friday, he promised himself,  everything would 
be back to normal. 


*  *  *  *  *


FBI Headquarters
Sept. 1, 1998
7:36 a.m.


Scully beat Mulder to the office the next Friday, determined
to get a head start on the rest of her life.  During her
week off, she'd had time to grow accustomed to her decision
about Mulder.  What was really going to change, after all? 
They weren't lovers.  He didn't owe her anything but the
loyalty, trust and friendship that went along with being
partners and friends, and she knew she had that without
reservation.  It would be okay.  It would be like it used to
be, only without the torment of wondering what to do 
about each other.

It would probably be even better than before, she assured
herself.  She stirred creamer in her coffee and carried the
mug to her desk, beginning to sort through the paper work
Mulder had left on her desk for her signature.  He'd been a
busy boy, she realized with a slight smile, noting that he'd
taken better than usual care with the forms.  No coffee cup
rings, no grease spots, no sunflower seed shells trapped
between the pages.  

She was actually in reasonably good spirits by the time he
came in around eight.  "Nice job with the paper work,
Mulder.  Have you been dipping into the secretarial pool
again?"

He made a face and sat behind his slightly cluttered desk,
grabbing the letter opener lying on the blotter.  He fiddled
with it, leaning back in his chair.  "So, did you bring
pictures?"

She arched her eyebrows.  "Pictures?"

"Of your brother.  And you.  At the same time.  With a
newspaper showing this week's date."

She sighed, biting back a chuckle.  How ridiculous that the
man who believed extraterrestrials were walking the planet
had such trouble believing that she actually had two
brothers.  "Sorry--I'll handle that the next time Charlie or
Bill is in port."

"Sure you will."  He actually flashed a grin. 

This could work, she thought, managing a bit of a smile
herself.  Things between her and Mulder were already looser
today than they'd been in weeks.  Months, even.  "Any new
cases come across your desk while I was gone?"

"Nothing interesting.  I helped Fuller in VCS with a couple
of things."

"Bet he loved that."

Mulder chuckled.  "You KNOW I'm his favorite pers--"  
The phone trilled, interrupting him.  He grabbed it.  "Mulder."  
He listened for a moment, his brow furrowing.  "Okay, we'll 
be right there."

"What is it?"  Scully rose and met him halfway to the door.

"Skinner wants to see us."

"What have we done now?"

"I don't know, but Eleanore said not to dawdle."

Scully glanced at him.  "Not to dawdle?"

"She sounded kind of tense."

Eleanore, tense?  Skinner's newest assistant was one of the
most friendly, easy-going people Scully had ever known. 
Unlike her predecessors, Eleanore killed with kindness,
using her motherly charm to keep even the most determined
agent from storming Skinner's office uninvited.  Mulder was
putty in her hands, and Eleanore knew it.  She also had a
soft spot for the quirky agent, which had earned her a soft
spot with Scully.

Skinner's office was on the fourth floor.  By habit, Scully
sniffed the air as Eleanore ushered them through the door. 
No smoke, but what she found inside the office was
disturbing enough.  Skinner was not alone at the narrow
table by the wall.  FBI Director Thomas Shea sat at the end
of the table, rising as they entered.  He held out his hand
to Scully politely, but his expression was cool and distant.

She shook his hand and stepped aside to allow Mulder to do
the same. 

"Please have a seat, Agent Scully, Agent Mulder."  Skinner
waved toward two chairs sitting side by side at the table. 
Scully did as he asked, shooting a glance at Mulder.  His
hazel eyes met hers, full of questions.

Thomas Shea stood at the end of the table, bending forward
to plant his hands against the smooth wood.  He was a tall,
trim man in his mid-fifties, his dark hair thick and turning
silver at the temples.  He had the reputation as a hard-
assed G-Man's G-Man; it was well-known that he had no great
love for Mulder's X-Files project, although Scully had no
proof that he was allied with Carter Christopher's
consortium in any way.  

Shea cleared his throat briefly before he spoke.  "Agent
Scully, Agent Mulder, I asked Assistant Director Skinner to
bring you here this morning in order to inform you of a
change taking place in the organizational structure of the
Bureau that will directly affect the two of you."

Scully's stomach tightened painfully.  She glanced at Mulder
again and saw his jaw set like stone.  Oh, God, she thought,
surely not--

"You're shutting us down, aren't you?"  Mulder spoke through
gritted teeth, directing his question not at Director Shea
but at Walter Skinner.

Skinner's lips pressed into a thin line.  Scully read the
answer in his dark eyes.

"May I ask why?" Scully turned to Director Shea.  

"The congressional subcommittee who oversees the Bureau has
deemed that unnecessary projects be cut before September
15th.  The X-Files, unfortunately for you and Agent Scully,
fell beneath the hatchet.  We're reassigning you to new
areas."

"Areas," Mulder repeated, his voice taut.  "Separate areas,
you mean?"

"Your respective specialties are not particularly
compatible, Agent Mulder.  Agent Scully is considered one of
the Bureau's brightest forensic pathologists, and her
expertise is greatly needed at the FBI Academy in Quantico."

No, Scully thought, her heart sinking.  Not back to the
Academy.  Not miles away from Mulder again....

"What about me?"  Mulder turned to look at Skinner.  "More
wiretapping duty, I suppose?"

Skinner shook his head.  "No, Agent Mulder, your work in the
field is too valuable to waste.  You're being assigned to
the Boston field office."

Mulder's breath escaped in a little whoosh, and Scully bit
her lip.  Boston?  It was worse than she had thought. 
Boston was hours away.  A lifetime away.

The Bureau was taking him away from her again.

She felt Mulder's eyes on her.  She lifted her gaze, girding
herself against the burgeoning pain.  Mulder's hazel eyes
darkened.  He dropped his gaze, a tiny muscle working
frantically in his jaw.  He parted his lips and spoke one
terse syllable. "When?"

"You're to report to Agent Parmeter, the Boston SAC, Monday
morning."

"This Monday?" Scully asked, incredulous.

"The Bureau will, of course, aid you in any way necessary to
expedite the move."  Director Shea's voice was meant to be
soothing, but it was all over Scully's nerves.  

She darted him an angry look, secretly pleased to see the
little spark of surprise that crossed his face when he read
her expression.  She lifted her chin and addressed him
directly.  "I'm to report to Quantico at the same time?"

"Yes.  Report to Covington."

Scully nodded, remembering Jeff Covington, the Academy
Director, from her previous stint at Quantico.  She schooled
her features, holding back the rage and hurt that was
roiling inside her.  Argument now would be pointless--Shea
would never have broken the news himself if there was any
hope of reprieve.  

It was over.

"We'd like for you to clear out your offices today.  We have
plans for the basement space."  Shea took a step back and
folded his arms over his chest, effectively dismissing them.

Scully moved first, pushing herself to her feet.  She
glanced down at Mulder.  He was unmoving, staring at the
opposite wall, where a closed door marked the entrance to an
anteroom.

Wondering if the Cancerman is behind this, she thought.  She
didn't have to wonder.  This little maneuver had his
nicotine-stained fingerprints all over it.


*  *  *  *  *


46th Street
New York City
8:45 a.m.

Nine men sat around the room, reading newspapers, wire
reports, surveillance reports.  Awaiting word from their
associate in Washington.  

The phone rang and Anthony, the major-domo, answered.  He
murmured assent and handed the phone to Carter Christopher. 
"Is it done?"

The low, musical voice on the other end of the line spoke
with cock-sure arrogance.  "Of course."

Carter hung up the phone and turned to his associates.  "It
is as you wish."

The others looked pleased.  

Carter was pleased himself.  But his reasoning was a bit
different than that of his colleagues.  He had his own
agenda for their separation, with hoped-for results that
would no doubt surprise every other man at this table.

He had learned a valuable lesson a long time earlier.  Hate
was a tool for the ignorant.  Love was a tool for the wise.


*  *  *  *  *


FBI Headquarters
8:57 a.m.


Mulder didn't know what to say to Scully as they slowly
walked toward the elevators at the end of the hall.  
Should he hold out hope?  After all, they'd been 
separated before, and they'd found ways to work together
then.

But he hadn't been 400 miles away that time.

So he remained silent.  She remained silent.  They walked,
silent but together, into the elevator.

The doors swished shut behind them.  He pushed the button
for the basement and turned to face her.  He sought for the
right words to say, but words seemed inadequate to bridge 
the inexorably widening expanse of time and space
separating them.   

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with goodbye.  He 
realized that there was nothing else to be said.  He looked
away, staring at the lighted panel marking their level by
level descent to the basement.

Slowly, in final silent concert, they retreated to opposite 
sides of the elevator.



THE END