Blue River Valley (3/?)
by Andrea

Rating: R 

Category: Post IWTB, Story, Scully POV

Disclaimer: This story is an homage, no infringement is 
intended.

Spoilers: Probably

Notes: Thanks to Dan and Karen for beta reading. 
Thanks to Charmaine for unwavering honesty and Tanya 
for her support

Feedback: Yes, please

ardywyn1@gmail.com

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

Once we made the decision to opt into the community at 
Blue River Valley it was amazing how quickly everything fell 
into place. With Mulder's accounts unfrozen we were able 
to buy in before our house in Virginia was sold. Since it was 
in such an isolated location I wasn't expecting it to sell 
quickly, but we ended up accepting an offer after having 
the place on the market for only two weeks. Mulder, of 
course, thought it was a sign that we were doing the right 
thing. I thought it meant someone liked the house.

The one stipulation about joining the community that 
surprised me was that I couldn't bring my Ford Fusion. It 
had come back from the shop looking almost as good as 
new after Mulder rolled it. He argued that he'd been 
pushed off the road. Either way, I felt like I'd wasted the 
insurance company's money, especially since I had to 
declare its history when I sold it. 

Blue River Valley didn't even allow hybrid cars. It was 
electric or nothing. Mulder sent Glenn Greene extra money 
and he'd purchased an appropriate vehicle for us. It would 
be awaiting us when we got to our new house.

They also requested that we didn't fly out to Colorado. 
When I asked why, Mulder launched into an explanation 
about how much jet fuel planes used and how bad that 
was for the environment, but I stopped him. I didn't care. 
I'd been on enough planes to do me a lifetime. Instead we 
booked a sleeper car. I thought it was a far more civilized 
way to travel, despite our history with trains.

My mother wanted to come with us to help us get settled, 
but I talked her into waiting. I wanted to get used to this 
new way of living before she visited. She probably 
would've adapted easily, since she was used to being on 
the move, but I wasn't completely sure what to expect. If 
this new way of life was difficult to adjust to, I wanted to 
make sure I was comfortable with it before I had guests. 

All of our furniture and most of our clothes had gone 
ahead of us. Glenn assured us the house would be in live-in 
condition when we got there. He was picking us up in 
Granby and taking us to our new home. I hadn't been this 
nervous since the day I walked into Mulder's office. Even 
starting at Our Lady of Sorrows hadn't filled me with this 
sense of anticipation.

Since we were the only passengers disembarking at 
Granby, Mulder easily found a baggage trolley. The station 
itself was a far cry from where we'd boarded in Richmond. 
I stared at the building wide-eyed. It was as if when we'd 
stepped off the train, we'd stepped back in time. 

The station was a tiny one-storey clapboard structure. 
Instead of jeans and a t-shirt, I felt like I should've been 
wearing a long dress and a bonnet. It was like we'd been 
plunked into the middle of a Western movie. 

I was still looking around in awe when I heard a deep voice 
call Mulder's name. When I turned in that direction I had 
to press my lips together to stop myself from laughing. 
Glenn Greene was Native American; western movie 
indeed!

He was a large man with a deep tan and a face that 
appeared warm and welcoming.  His long hair was 
gathered into a ponytail secured by a leather string. He 
was dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt that definitely 
looked homemade. Unsurprisingly, he was wearing 
cowboy boots. 

"Glenn," Mulder said with a smile as he extended his hand. 
"It's good to finally meet you. This is Dana Scully."

After shaking Mulder's hand, Glenn reached for mine. His 
grip was firm; his palm calloused but warm. It was an 
honest handshake. The way his head inclined toward me as 
he shook my hand reminded me of Albert Hosteen; making 
me like him immediately.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Scully," he said looking into 
my eyes. 

I sensed no discomfort from the gesture. Any Natives I'd 
met in my travels of Albert's generation still found it 
awkward to meet another's eyes, and that discomfort was 
palpable. The younger generations seemed to have lost 
that uneasiness. I sensed none of it in Glenn. 

"We're thrilled you've decided to join us," he continued, 
seemingly unaware of my analysis.

"Please call me Dana," I entreated as I wondered if I'd ever 
reach a point in my life when I would stop scrutinizing 
people when I met them. "I'm embarrassingly excited 
about this," I admitted with a smile. "I hope it's not wrong 
to say that it feels like an adventure."

"Car's this way," he nodded to the left. "Of course it's not 
wrong, Dana. Everyone feels that way when they first get 
here, but in no time everything will become routine and 
you won't even notice - at least until we get our first big 
storm," he added with a chuckle. "Then after a while the 
storms become same-old same-old, too."

"I don't see how a landscape like this could ever become 
run of the mill," I commented as I looked at the mountains 
in the distance.

"Do you see a beautiful woman when you look in the 
mirror?" he asked me evenly.

I felt my cheeks color. "No, I just see me."

"When it's what you see every day, you tend to get used 
it," he said with a shrug. "But I think if you pay attention 
you'll still see the beauty."

"I pay attention," Mulder said quietly as we stopped by a 
small white car. "Every day."

"Mulder," I murmured, feeling my cheeks grow even 
hotter.

"You're a smart man," Glenn said as he opened the trunk. 
"If you don't appreciate what you have, you'll lose it. A lot 
of times you don't even notice that it's drifting away until 
it's gone."

I caught the double meaning in his words. He wasn't just 
talking about relationships; he meant we were losing the 
beauty that surrounded us as well. And he was right. I 
rarely stopped to appreciate it. When I tuned back into the 
conversation, Mulder was asking how long the drive was.
"About two hours," Glenn answered as he and Mulder 
stashed the bags in the trunk. 

"Is this the closest town?" I wondered, looking around. 
Granby seemed tiny to me.

"There are a couple of little places closer, but we're still 
very isolated," he said offhandedly.

As Glenn closed the trunk and walked around to the 
driver's door it finally struck me how truly remote the 
community would be and a little shiver of anxiety ran 
through me. Then it occurred to me that after the last six 
years of being sequestered in rural Virginia, being a part of 
a community again would be nice. And I'd have Mulder.  
What more could I ask for?

Mulder and Glenn talked during most of the drive, but I 
barely listened. I spent my time staring out the window in 
amazement, finding it difficult to believe that I'd ever get 
used to these stunning views. The rest of the time I 
thought about how much Glenn reminded me of Albert 
Hosteen.

"Glenn?" I interjected when there was a lull in the 
conversation.

"Yeah?"

"Are you Navajo?"

"I am. How did you know?" He glanced at me in the rear-
view mirror.

"You remind me of someone," I explained. "Are you from 
here? I don't think of Colorado as Navajo country."

"Traditional Navajo territory extends into southern 
Colorado, but I've always been drawn to this area. I 
probably have some Ute in me," he said with a rumbling 
laugh. "Who do I remind you of?"

"A good friend," I hedged. "If I understand Navajo tradition 
though, I'm not supposed to say his name."

"Ah, I understand," he said with a nod. "Well, I'm glad I 
remind you of your good friend. He was a good-looking 
man, huh?"

After I finished laughing, I explained to Glenn that it was 
more his demeanor and mannerisms that reminded of my 
friend, though he was likely a handsome man in his youth.

Mulder was well into the story about his recovery in the 
Hogan when we pulled off the highway onto a small gravel 
road. Our way forward was blocked by a gate. A sign 
attached to it said 'Market open Saturdays and Sundays 10 
am to 3 pm, weather permitting'. Nowhere did it say that 
the road led to Blue River Valley. It appeared one had to be 
in the know. I doubted the community advertised. Their 
business must have been built on word of mouth, although 
the article that Mulder had shown me probably helped.

On the west side of the road stood the community's 
mailboxes. There was a patch of gravel in front of it where 
the mail truck obviously stopped.

Glenn got out to open the gate and after he'd driven 
through, Mulder hopped out to close it again.

"Just like home," I observed with a smile as Mulder 
climbed back in.

"Yeah, some things never change."

At first the gravel road was level, and about a mile in we 
crossed a wooden bridge over a river but soon after we 
began to steadily climb. There was little to see except for 
the road in front of us and trees on either side. After the 
initial climb, the road began to switch back. Continuing 
along the snaking road, Glenn kept the car going at a 
steady pace, not slowing at any of the corners. He didn't 
strike me as a daring man, so I assumed he knew no one 
would be coming from the opposite direction. After twenty 
minutes I saw the top of the hill. As we crested it, the 
valley opened up below us. I gasped at the sheer beauty.

"Glenn, could you stop for a minute?" Mulder asked 
breathlessly. "We'd love to get out and look."

"Sure," Glenn said with a smile.

Mulder and I opened our doors as soon as Glenn stopped 
the car. 

"The pictures didn't do it justice," I said in awe as I walked 
around to join Mulder on the passenger side. 

"You don't get the panoramic effect," Mulder agreed 
sounding as overwhelmed as I was.

In our years at the Bureau, Mulder and I had seen a lot of 
this country and many other parts of the world, not always 
together, but like me, I could tell he'd never seen anything 
as breathtaking as this before. After slipping his arm 
around my waist, we stood, just taking it in.

The mountain sheltered the mostly green valley below. I 
wondered when those mountains would be snow-capped. 
A small lake shimmered in the south-western corner, fed 
by a fast moving river. The Blue River, I presumed. Though 
the houses and mills were visible, I was mostly struck once 
again by the mosaic of colors created by the fields. I could 
see two herds of cattle, at almost opposite ends of the 
valley, only because of their numbers, but I couldn't make 
out their color to tell what breeds they were. There was 
also a flock of sheep that I could see based on the 
whiteness of their wool. There were also several fields 
containing horses, or so I guessed. If there were any other 
animals, they were too small to see from this height. 
Likewise, I couldn't discern any people. 

"It's beautiful, Mulder. I can't believe we get to live here." I 
tilted my face toward him.

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. We were lucky to get 
in," he agreed somberly.

Something in his tone struck me as odd, like there was 
something he hadn't told me. Before I could ask him about 
it, Glenn cleared his throat.

"Should we go see your house now?"

"I'm ready," Mulder said, giving me a squeeze. "Are you, 
Scully?"

"I am," I agreed with a smile.

I still had the feeling Mulder wasn't telling me something, 
but I shrugged it off. I knew there was no way he would've 
uprooted our entire lives because he'd heard there was a 
sasquatch in these mountains or a prehistoric monster in 
the lake. If I was reading him right and he was holding 
something back, it must not have been significant. Surely 
by now he knew me well enough not to pull anything like 
that.

All I did as we drove down the mountainside was gape at 
the beauty of what was before me. Whenever we hit a 
switchback, I turned in my seat so I could continue to stare 
in amazement. Mulder and I commented on everything we 
saw.

"Look over there. Do you see the sunflowers, Mulder?"

"Yeah and there's a ball diamond."

"That must be one of the mills."

"I can see people now."

"There's the school. It must be recess."

"Wow, I'm going to have a lot of great places to run."

Soon though, as we got close to the valley bottom, we lost 
our bird's-eye view. Then the houses and fields began to 
dominate the view. The road was gravel and a gravel drive 
led up to each home. Lush-looking gardens were evident 
on every property. 

Since the mailboxes were located on the other side of the 
pass, each house had a sign at the end of the driveway. 
Besides a name, each one had something on it to let you 
know what crop or trade that family specialized in. Luckily, 
I'd be meeting everyone over the next couple of weeks, 
but I still wondered how long it would take me to get to 
know everyone.

As if reading my mind, Mulder suddenly spoke. "I guess it'll 
take a while to get to know everyone."

"We planned something to help you out there," Glenn said 
with a nod. "Since you probably won't want to cook 
tonight and there's no take-out to be had, we decided to 
have a potluck at the community center at six o'clock. I'll 
show you around here and then let you unpack your bags. 
I'll come back and get you around five-thirty. Okay?"

"Sure," I agreed, a little taken aback. I would've preferred 
to spend the rest of the day quietly with Mulder, but I'm 
sure everyone here wanted to get a look at the new 
people.

"Here we are," Glenn announced as he slowed to turn into 
a driveway.

A white sign with scalloped black edges stood proudly on 
the grass. My name was listed above Mulder's. A caduceus 
dominated the right hand side of the sign. It reminded me 
of what a country doctor might have on the lawn.  I knew 
immediately who was responsible.

"Thank you, Mulder," I murmured.

He turned to look at me, sporting a puzzled expression.

"The sign; very Norman Rockwell. Thank you."

"Oh right," he said with a grin. "I just told Glenn what I 
thought you'd like. He made it happen."

"Well, thank you too, then Glenn. It's the first time I've 
actually hung out my shingle."

"Really?" Glenn asked in surprise.

"The Bureau recruited me right out of med school. After I 
left there I recertified in pediatrics and worked in a 
hospital. I've never been in private practice. I'm looking 
forward to it," I explained as we approached the house 
which was set about fifty yards back from the road.

The yard in front of the house wasn't a lawn, but it wasn't 
wild either. There were some flower gardens, ornamental 
shrubs, flowering bushes and maybe fifteen trees. There 
were a couple of evergreens, a stand of birch but the rest 
were fruit trees and they appeared to be in fruit. Aside 
from what looked like pathways around the yard, the rest 
was covered with swaths of wildflowers.  

"Mulder said the system was wearing you down," Glenn 
commented as he stopped the car behind a new-looking 
car; our new vehicle, I assumed. I was surprised to see it 
wasn't plated.

"Yeah, and it took me a while to realize it," I said with a 
nod, but then changed the subject. "What do we need to 
do to get the car plated? Is that why you brought your 
car?"

We all got out of the car as Glenn began to explain.

"You won't need plates unless you leave the community 
and since you can only go about twenty-five miles on a 
charge, there really isn't any place to go. And this car isn't 
mine. It belongs to the community. It's fueled by propane, 
so not completely environmentally friendly, but the best 
option we had for long trips. It really only gets used for 
doctor's visits, but now that you're here..."

"Oh," I said glancing at Mulder. "I guess if I want more 
patients, they'll have to come here."

"Is that a problem?" Glenn looked from Mulder to me, 
concern evident in his voice.

I shook my head. "No. I'm still not sure what I'll have time 
for."

"I think you might find that life here keeps you busy 
enough. Besides, we were hoping you might consider 
teaching science to our high schoolers this fall. I wasn't 
planning to bring this up right away, but it seems like a 
good time. Right now the high school aged kids have to be 
bused to Steamboat Springs. The parents take turns driving 
them out to the highway to catch the bus. Everyone would 
prefer if they just stayed here, but we don't have anyone 
qualified to teach physics, chemistry or biology." As Glenn 
spoke, Mulder walked around the car to join us. 

"The only thing we could cover is math because I took 
accounting. We were hoping you would teach English and 
history," he said, looking at Mulder. "Your degree from 
Oxford qualifies you in this state. We tried home schooling 
the kids, but they weren't passing the state exams. We 
have people who probably could handle teaching the 
curriculum, but as soon as it becomes a classroom setting 
as opposed to home schooling, you have to be a qualified 
teacher or have a specialty. We have a qualified 
elementary teacher, but that's it."

I slipped my hand into Mulder's as I processed Glenn's 
request. I was surprised by his proposal and felt like we'd 
been put on the spot. Mulder gave my hand a squeeze, but 
said nothing. I could tell that he was still processing too, or 
at least worried that I was going to be upset.

"I didn't mean to put on you the spot," our host continued, 
"and you don't need to answer right away. This in no way 
changes our initial agreement and if you agree to teach, it 
would count as your volunteer hours."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. It certainly makes sense." All 
at once the idea didn't seem so bad. I'd never been fond of 
having anything sprung on me. I was a muller. I liked to 
mull. But I liked the idea of teaching kids. "If that's what 
you want, it's fine with me and I do have some teaching 
experience under my belt, although my students were 
somewhat older."

As soon as I agreed, Glenn's face lit up, but dissolved into 
confusion at my last remark.     

"Scully taught at Quantico," Mulder explained.

"Ah," Glenn said sagely. "Impressive."

"Not really," I said with a shrug. "They were highly 
motivated to learn."

Mulder shook his head. "Ugh. I remember the guy who 
taught forensics when I was at the academy. I would've 
been more eager to learn if you'd been my instructor."

"Ed Pope was a smart man, Mulder. I learned a lot from 
him."

"Like reasons to bathe? We changed his last name to suit 
his smell." Mulder chuckled at the memory.

He was right about Pope's hygiene. My classmates joked 
that he wasn't in the field any more because he'd 
contaminate the crime scenes.     

"Yeah, I think everyone's had one of those teachers. I'd tell 
you about mine, but it turns my stomach to even think 
about." Glenn looked like he'd just tasted something 
disgusting. "What about you?" he looked at Mulder. "Have 
you done any teaching?"          

"No, but I'd be more than happy to help out. That way I 
won't feel so much like a kept man." He looked at me and 
winked. "I was hoping I could coach some B-ball or softball 
too, though. Are there enough kids?" 

Glenn nodded and grinned. "Oh yeah, plenty of kids. No 
TV, you know," he said, laughing at his own joke. "Forty-
two high school aged kids, but you might have to have co-
ed teams."

"Not a problem," Mulder said immediately. "What about 
younger kids? Do you have equipment? I could look into 
ordering some."

I was a little surprised at how excited Mulder seemed 
about working with kids. On the other hand, he'd always 
had a great rapport with children. It hadn't occurred to me 
that he'd fit right into the small community lifestyle, but as 
he'd reminded me, he'd always wanted to live in a place 
like this. Just seeing him this happy made me glad I'd 
agreed to come here.

"We can check out the equipment once you folks get 
settled in. For now we should get your bags inside and 
then I can take you through the house." Glenn rubbed his 
hands together as he spoke.

It wasn't until we turned to go into the house that I noticed 
the garden at the side. One of the fruit trees had been 
blocking my view. 

Walking in that direction to have a closer look, I halted in 
surprise when I saw it. I looked at Glenn in shock. "You 
planted us a garden?"

"Well, not me personally," he said with a little smile, "But 
yeah. A garden is a necessity here. It was planted as soon 
as Mulder said you were interested. It went in a couple of 
weeks late, but it should be fine. There's already some 
lettuce, radishes and green onions that can be harvested. 
You'll have beans and pea pods in a couple of weeks and 
tomatoes in about a month. Until then you'll have to used 
canned veg. We stocked you up."

Instantly I felt guilty about my initial hesitance about 
teaching. Everyone had gone out of their way to make sure 
we had everything we needed.

Even though I'd seen pictures of the house, I was bowled 
over by how gorgeous it was. The front door opened into a 
vestibule fitted with a deacon's bench and numerous coat 
hooks. A second door opened onto a hall that ran the 
width of the house. A huge window filled the western end 
of the hall. The floors were all slate. Once in the living 
room I found the slate had been accented with area rugs. 
Most of the walls had been plastered, brightening the 
rooms, but you could still see the wood on one wall. It was 
an interesting contrast. It was then I remembered that 
Mulder had said the previous owner was an interior 
designer. Luckily, so far I liked her esthetic. 

"They left the rugs?" I asked Glenn in surprise. 

"Yvonne said the rugs were part of the overall design and 
had a country feel to them. She was planning a more 
cosmopolitan style in their new place in Phoenix," he said 
with a shrug.

"What's country about the rugs?" Mulder looked puzzled.

"I dunno," Glenn said with a sigh. "Personally I think she 
didn't want any reminders of this place. She couldn't get 
used to homespun clothes and lack of designer shoes and 
handbags. She always talked about needing a spa day. Her 
master bath was supposed to be her spa. You'll understand 
when you see it," he said with a shake of his head.

"Why did she agree to come here? I know women like her. 
I can't imagine any of them even considering moving to a 
place like this," I said as I admired the beamed ceiling.

"I think she did it for Joel. And I think she thought it was a 
romantic idea. The reality didn't pan out that way for her. 
She was afraid of the chickens. She didn't like to cook. She 
hated gardening. I don't think she really tried." 

I got the impression Glenn didn't think too highly of 
Yvonne.

"I kind of thought it was a romantic idea, too," I admitted, 
worrying that there might be a little of Yvonne in me. I 
wasn't opposed to the occasional spa day.

"Yeah, but you know what you're getting into, Scully. And 
you love a challenge and you aren't afraid of getting your 
hands dirty. And chickens! Please! If one tried to mess with 
you, it'd be dinner before the feathers stopped flying." 

I couldn't help smiling at Mulder's description of me. And 
while it was true that I didn't mind hard work, I also was 
very fond of being pampered. Perhaps my challenge would 
be figuring out how to indulge myself here.

"And I think that fireplace is romantic," Mulder leaned 
closer to whisper in my ear.

"It is." I smiled up at him. Then again, indulging in Mulder 
would probably keep me happy.

I could tell he was a little worried that I might be having 
second thoughts so I took his hand again and gave it a 
reassuring squeeze.

The fireplace he'd been referring to dominated the room 
and also opened up onto the kitchen as well. Luckily, aside 
from what we'd had in the house in Virginia, I had a few 
things in storage, along with everything of Mulder's so 
there'd been enough to furnish the large room. Some 
might consider it sparsely furnished, but I'd never been 
fond of rooms crammed to the rafters. Mulder's beloved 
leather couch, however, was nowhere to be seen.

When we walked into the kitchen I was surprised to find 
that our kitchen table was also nowhere in sight. In its 
stead was a huge oak table that would easily sit 12 people. 
Glenn explained that it had been too big to move and our 
table was in my new waiting room. There wasn't a 
separate dining room, but I didn't have any issues with 
that.

As he showed us the rest of the kitchen, I was struck by 
two things; the stove was electric and I couldn't see a 
fridge. According to Glenn, installing gas stoves would've 
meant piping in natural gas or propane and a lot of digging. 
In addition to that, both were fossil fuels and the 
community of Blue River Valley tried to avoid using them. 
In any situation they did use petroleum based products, 
they were on the look-out for alternatives. 

When I asked about the fridge, Glenn said we didn't need 
one. We had a cold cellar, which he'd show me later in the 
tour. The mystery of Mulder's couch was solved when 
Glenn showed us the family room. What the Metson's had 
used as a family gathering place had been transformed into 
a library. Not a library that you borrowed books from, the 
kind with a fireplace, overstuffed chairs and leather 
couches; or in our case, one leather couch. I didn't want to 
say anything in front of Glen, but I started to have 
romantic ideas about a snowy winter day, a roaring fire 
and a good book. 

Bookshelves were built into two of the walls, but the books 
we'd sent ahead barely made a dent in the space we'd 
been given. I planned to rectify that post-haste. Whoever 
delivered our mail wasn't going to like me.

From the library, Glenn led us back through the kitchen to 
another large room behind it. My grandmother Scully 
would've referred to it as a summer kitchen. It featured a 
second stove and sink.  A washing machine sat next to the 
sink. There was no sign of a dryer. Under the counter that 
ran the length of the back wall stood crocks of varying 
sizes. 

"This is the best place to do your pickling and canning," 
Glenn said to me as I looked around.

"That'll be my job," Mulder said with a wry smile.

My snort came out before I could stop it.

He looked offended.  "What? I've become a decent cook."

"Yes, Mulder, you have. But this is a completely different 
skill set," I said softly.

"I can learn."

"I'm sure you can, but I think it would work better as a 
joint venture," I said, patting his arm.

"So in addition to scientist, doctor and forensics expert, 
you're a master pickler now?" he asked dryly.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Hardly, but my mom used to make 
pickles and jam. I was thinking perhaps we could time her 
first visit strategically."

"Ah, so not a master pickler, but still very wise," he said 
solemnly.

"And there are plenty of people here who could teach you, 
too. No one knew how to do everything when we got here. 
We all learned from each other. And some things you may 
never pick up on. My wife, Tanya, makes one heck of a 
cowboy boot." He lifted up his pant leg to accentuate his 
point. "But she can't knit to save her soul. And here she 
doesn't have to. When I need a new winter hat, I just tell 
Sierra I need one, and she makes it for me. When she 
needs new boots or shoes, Tanya makes them for her."

"Cowboy boots for a knit hat doesn't seem like a fair 
exchange." I cocked my head at him.

"Well, I'll get a couple of sweaters and lots of socks and 
gloves before Sierra needs new boots or shoes," Glenn 
pointed out. "And don't forget, Sierra isn't just knitting. She 
spins that wool and dyes it too. If you like to knit, you can 
just get the wool from her, dyed whatever color you want. 
If you don't, she'll knit what you need."

"From each according to their ability, to each according to 
their need," Mulder said with a nod.

"Exactly," Glenn agreed, but his expression was very 
serious. "Just don't say that out loud here. While you and I 
realize that this is basically the exact definition of 
communism, there are a lot of folks here who don't see it 
that way and take strong exception when anyone says it 
is."

"This is the exact scale communism works on," Mulder 
said, sounding perplexed. "And everyone is a willing 
participant. There's no Red Army here."

"You're preaching to the choir." Glenn held up his hands in 
submission.  "I'm just telling you how it is."

Mulder shook his head. "And people call me paranoid." 

"You'll fit right in," Glenn laughed. "Now let's get back to 
the tour. The cupboards in the kitchen are for your 
everyday kind of supplies, but here," he opened up a door 
at the north end of the room, "is where most of your food 
will be kept."

"Oh my God," I said in awe as I stared at the jars that lined 
the shelves. Even the flour and oats were in glass. "I can't 
believe everyone was so generous."

"It's part of your buy-in." Glenn shrugged off my 
amazement. "Believe it or not, we're more than self-
sufficient. We donate our surplus to several food banks in 
the state. They send trucks here on a regular basis; weekly 
at the height of the harvest; less in the winter. And we do 
it all without antibiotics or growth hormones and we use 
heritage farming methods. Agribusiness has brainwashed 
people into thinking that the only way to feed our 
population is via heavy-duty machinery and chemically 
treating the soil and crops. It's patently untrue. We make 
more than enough to feed ourselves, donate to the needy 
and still keep emergency supplies on hand," Glenn said 
passionately. 

From his vehemence, I assumed his reason for being here 
had more to do with the industrialization of farming versus 
survivalism. I suspected the survivalists were the paranoics 
he'd been referring to earlier.

"And we could grow more if we wanted," he continued 
fervently. "Some of the members think we should scale 
back because they don't like the thought of the fossil fuels 
the trucks use to get here. So we had a vote and the 
consensus was that if we were helping those in need, we 
should forgive those emissions. Our carbon footprint here 
is so small, we more than make up for it."

Mulder and I nodded as he spoke. Many people would've 
felt threatened by Glenn's fervor, but I was used to 
passionate people. I might even be considered one myself.

"And those people get better produce than what they'd 
get at the grocery store," I added thoughtfully. "And for 
the most part, I'm guessing those trucks don't go a lot 
more than a hundred miles. That's an environmental 
savings compared to where their food would come from 
otherwise."

Mulder looked at me in surprise as I spoke. I loved 
shocking him with my knowledge.

"It's a little more than a hundred miles to Denver. And 
yeah, their produce would likely be coming from California. 
You're right, it all helps," he said with a smile, seeming 
pleased that I understood. "And this," he pointed to a 
counter under a window, "is a nice place to make bread in 
the summer. In the winter, the kitchen is warmer, 
especially if you have the fire on."

I finally understood why Glenn thought I might be busy 
enough. I considered myself a capable cook and liked to 
think that I cooked from scratch, but I knew then that I 
never really had. Until I figured out how much time living 
would take, I couldn't make any more commitments 
beyond those I'd already made.

After the pantry, Glenn showed us the cold cellar. It was 
accessed through a trap door in the summer kitchen. Milk, 
he informed us, was delivered Tuesdays, Thursdays and 
Saturdays and stayed more than fresh in the cellar. Butter 
and cheese were delivered on request. Empty milk bottles 
were left at the end of the driveway. The milk was 
delivered by seven in the morning, so it was never left out 
in the heat. Any changes to your order or special requests 
were left with the empties.

"Special requests?" Mulder queried as we climbed back to 
the main floor.

"Extra milk for a recipe or birthday cake, whipping cream, 
whatever," Glenn said with a shrug. "Tomorrow you'll get 
two pints of milk. If that's not enough, leave a note. If it's 
too much - you get the picture."

As he led us up the mammoth oak staircase, I had to 
mention something that was bugging me.

"Glenn, it seems like a lot of wood went into building this 
house."

He stopped on the stairs and turned around to face me. 
"And you're wondering how environmentally friendly it 
was to cut all of the trees required."

"Well, yeah," I admitted, a little unsure if I should be 
bringing it up.

"One of our members, Blake Peters, is a forester. It's his 
job to manage that resource for us. Every tree that was 
harvested was carefully considered and two more trees 
were planted in its place. Remember we own all the land 
from the road to the next valley to the north. We even 
have ourselves a little Christmas tree farm," Glenn said 
with grin. "He's done an amazing job. The first house was 
built here fifteen years ago; the last, this one was built five 
years ago. But I bet if you walked the land you'd be hard 
pressed to spot where the trees were taken from."

"We own the next valley over too?" Out of everything 
Glenn said, that was what had struck me most.   

"Yeah, and all we harvest now is for heating and furniture; 
stuff like that."

As we continued up the stairs our tour guide continued to 
explain how we went about getting the things we needed. 
Basically all we had to do was ask. I had a hard time getting 
my head around 'I need new underwear', 'Okay I'll make 
you some'. But as soon as I saw the master bedroom all 
thoughts of underwear went out of my head.

It, too, featured a fireplace. Double doors opened out onto 
a small balcony and the view was astounding. My initial 
thought was how much I'd enjoy a cup of coffee on a 
summer morning taking in that view. But then I 
remembered, no coffee, unless we had it ordered in. Upon 
making the decision to move here though, Mulder and I 
decided to give up coffee and tea. It had been three weeks 
since I'd had a caffeinated beverage. There was herbal tea 
to be had though, and I knew I'd enjoy that just as much.

And despite our kidding around, I chose to forego wine. 
There was ale, as Mulder had pointed out, as well as mead  
and hard cider. Not that having alcohol was important to 
me; I hadn't had any since we finished that bottle of baco 
noir. It would be nice to have something for the holidays 
though and honestly, mead and hard cider seemed more 
traditional.

When I walked into the bathroom, I fell in love. Blue River 
Valley may have been all about back to basics, but there 
was nothing basic about this bathroom. I'd have to write 
Yvonne a letter to thank her. Glenn was telling me about 
local granite and how their blacksmith had crafted the tub, 
but all I could think about was sinking into a mountain of 
bubbles. Then something occurred to me.

"When I run out of bubble bath, will I have to order more 
from outside?"

Mulder started to laugh.

"What?" I frowned at him.

"Have we finally found Scully's deal breaker?"

"Ha ha," I rolled my eyes at him and then turned to Glenn, 
waiting for my answer.

"Never fear," he said with a chuckle. "One of the artisans 
makes soaps, shampoo, conditioner, lotions, cleaning 
products, and yes, bubble bath. You can even request a 
fragrance. We grow lavender, lilacs, roses, lily of the valley 
and all kinds of herbs. She does fruity scents too, like 
strawberry, peach and apple. If there's a scent you want 
that we don't have and it'll grow here, feel free to order 
the seeds. It'll take a few years, but when the plant is 
mature, Casey will extract the essential oil and there you 
have it. We use the essential oils for candles too. They're a 
good seller at the market.

"I like lavender," I said distractedly, still thinking about a 
good soak. "I think as long as I can enjoy a bath, I'll be 
happy."

"The things people tend to miss the most here are coffee, 
tea, chocolate and vanilla," Glenn told us. "And after a 
while you won't even think about them anymore."

"So here's an indelicate question. What about toilet 
paper?"

Normally I would've given Mulder a smack for asking a 
question like that, but I was also interested and more than 
a little afraid of what the answer was going to be.

"Ah," Glenn's eyes lit up as he spoke. "Being self-sufficient 
and not frightening people off was a challenge when it 
came to bathroom hygiene. All of the bathrooms here have 
bidets. And once you get used to them, you'll wonder how 
you ever did without. Some people still want some form of 
TP, but I tend to just air dry. It doesn't take very long, 
because the water in the bidet is warm. We did find that 
we could make a compostable thin-ply tissue with 
sawdust. They added small amounts of cotton, wool and a 
tiny bit of glue. I know it sounds weird, but it's not bad. It 
took a lot of trial and error to create something that would 
break down in the septic system and be soft enough to 
use. Here, let me show you."

Glenn strode over to the toilet and bidet. I hadn't noticed 
them at first because I'd been so in awe of the tub. On a 
little wooden table beside the toilet, sitting in a ceramic 
dish, sat a stack of folded up beige tissues. 

Glenn nodded toward them. "Feel."

As soon as Glenn mentioned sawdust, I'd expected the 
tissues to feel like sandpaper, but they were surprisingly 
soft.

"Very nice," I told Mulder.

"But make an effort to use as little as possible. Not only is 
it difficult and time consuming to make, but the added 
cotton and wool means it doesn't break down and if you 
use too much, it'll bog down your septic system. Speaking 
of which -"

When he started talking about the intricacies of the 
sewage handling system, I tuned out. I did hear him say 
that the grey water was handled separately and aside from 
the vinegar solution recommended for cleaning the toilet, 
no other cleaning products or soap were to be put in the 
toilet - and no feminine hygiene products.

They used handkerchiefs, no Kleenex, no paper towels and 
reusable cotton pads. Glenn didn't want me using anything 
I'd brought with me. He said there was no way to dispose 
of them. As he was showing me my alternative in a drawer 
of the vanity, I saw the shower. It was just as impressive as 
the tub, having multiple shower heads at varying levels.

Mulder grinned at me. "I could really use a shower. How 
about you, Scully?"

"Let me just show the other bedrooms, the family 
bathroom and the chickens. Then I'll leave you to freshen 
up. Okay?" Glenn said as he ushered us out of the 
bathroom.

The family bathroom turned out to look exactly like one 
would expect of a bathroom. The master bath had been 
Yvonne's dream, but it wasn't enough to make her happy 
here. To my surprise, in addition to Mulder's bedroom 
furniture, the other three bedrooms had single beds, along 
with dressers and desks. The Metson's had left a few 
pieces, but the rest had been made by Bill Gruen, the 
community furniture maker.

"Mulder said you had family that would be visiting, so we 
made sure you had beds," Glenn informed me when I 
questioned why all the rooms had been furnished.

The chickens, as it turned out, were incredibly easy to deal 
with. They had a self-feeder that we only had to top up 
with food every couple of days and every morning we gave 
them fresh water and collected eggs. There were a dozen 
birds in our flock, meaning we'd get a dozen eggs almost 
every day. Unused eggs were kept in the cold cellar and 
the surplus was sold at the market on the weekends. 
Whatever wasn't sold went to the food bank.

The most complicated part about the chickens was moving 
their wire and wooden frame shelter to fresh grass. To 
accomplish this, we'd have to wait until all of the chickens 
were roosting in the coop and shut the little door. Then 
we'd have to lift the coop out of the wire structure and 
move it to fresh grass. It looked like it would be awkward 
to move, but not heavy. It was flimsy and large, not a good 
combination. Once we moved the coop back in, we'd open 
the little door and they'd be free to move around at will. 

Glenn agreed that it would be preferable to let the 
chickens run free, but the eagles, hawks, foxes and coyotes 
would prefer that they ran free, as well. We had to make 
sure the birds were inside at night, because the shelter 
wouldn't keep out a determined fox or coyote. In fact, 
Glenn recommended that we get a dog to help guard the 
birds during the day, since we had no rooster to kick up a 
fuss if anything approached the flock. A rooster meant 
fertilized eggs and only two families in the community kept 
them, to ensure we had a stable chicken population. 

Apparently a border collie in the community was due to 
whelp any time and we could have one of the pups as soon 
as they were weaned. 

"Will the chickens be okay until then?" I didn't like the 
thought of them being easy prey.

"Your place is fairly central, away from the forest edge, and 
there are likely enough dogs in between to keep your hens 
safe."

Glenn left us standing near the chickens, telling us he'd be 
back at five thirty to get us for supper. I felt like it was my 
first day in a brand new job and I'd just been inundated 
with information. When I turned toward Mulder, I found 
him looking a little glassy-eyed. 

"Are you all right?" I asked, reaching for his hand.

"Yeah, I guess I just wasn't expecting there to be so much 
to learn. How about you?" He squeezed my hand.

"Other than having to pee, I'm fine," I said with a wince.
Mulder just chuckled as I turned to head inside. Glenn was 
right about the bidet. The sensation was a little startling at 
first, but it took no time to dry. And when I thought about 
it, it was more sanitary.

When I finished in the bathroom, Mulder was waiting for 
me in our new bedroom. 

"Ready for that shower now?" he asked, smiling 
suggestively at me.

"How about we unpack first," I counter offered, making his 
smile fade. "Then we can linger in the shower as long as 
you like."

In spite of being on the train for three nights, we hadn't 
been intimate since we left Virginia. Mulder spent the 
entire trip doped up on Dramamine. Consequently he'd 
slept a lot and was groggy the rest of the time. From the 
gleam in his eyes, I surmised that he'd missed me. It 
inspired him to unpack his suitcase quickly and then help 
me with mine.

After stashing the luggage in one of the spare rooms, he 
returned to help me undress. Once we were naked, Mulder 
picked me up and carried me to the bathroom.

Something had changed with him when we decided to 
move here. He'd always been an eager, passionate and 
attentive lover. He'd always made me feel beautiful and 
desirable, even before our relationship became sexual. But 
in the last six weeks his intensity had been kicked up 
several notches; like he'd been given a new lease on life. 
Our first encounter in the new house was no exception.

Considering our brief sexual hiatus, his stamina was 
incredible and I certainly didn't complain. Normally I like to 
worship his body as much as he worshiped mine, but he 
didn't give me the chance. It was like he needed to prove 
something to me or tell me something he couldn't express 
with words. For Mulder, that was a rarity. He'd always 
been very vocal, eloquent and often bawdy about his love 
and desire for me. I didn't know what he couldn't 
communicate to me, but I was happy to let him show me.

When he finally bellowed my name as he quaked violently, 
I clung to him, exhausted. In his languor he sank to the 
floor of the enormous shower stall; the water still 
streaming over us.

"We're wasting water," I pointed out as he nuzzled my 
neck.

"Housewarming special," he said as he moved his lips to 
my neck.

"Best housewarming present I've ever been given," I said 
with a sigh; still enjoying his attention.

"I aim to please," he told me, his voice muffled by my hair.

"As much as I'm thoroughly enjoying this, we have no idea 
how much hot water we have and my mood will be ruined 
if I have to take a cold shower."

"Unh," Mulder said with a grunt. "Fine, but I reserve the 
right to make love to you tonight, with no suspended after 
play."

"The trials I have to endure," I said, rolling my eyes.

"So lie back and think of England," Mulder said wryly as we 
got to our feet.

"Tonight, if you're anything like you were just now, I won't 
be able to spell England, never mind think of it," I lowered 
my voice to tell him.

"If that's a challenge, Scully, I'm up for it," he said and then 
looked down at himself. "Well, maybe not right now, but I 
will be."

By the time we showered and dressed it was almost five 
thirty. I only had enough time to take a quick peak at my 
new office. I'd been expecting it to be Spartan, but they'd 
spared no expense outfitting it. Aside from the office type 
of furniture, it looked like they'd chosen top of the line 
equipment out of a medical catalogue. Not quite what I 
was used to at Our Lady of Sorrows. I even had a 
pharmaceutical cabinet. It hadn't occurred to me that I'd 
be filling my own prescriptions, but it wasn't an issue. I'd 
have to put a reminder on my calendar to restock; both for 
what I'd used and what had expired.

I didn't get a chance to poke around any further. Glenn 
arrived as scheduled to whisk us off to our potluck. And if 
I'd thought his tour was overwhelming, it had nothing on 
dinner. Mulder and I sat at a round table with Glenn, his 
wife Tanya and their three kids. The rest of the hall was set 
out with long tables to accommodate everyone else. The 
food was set out buffet style on long tables against a wall. I 
hadn't eaten since eleven o'clock that morning and I was 
happy about it. The amount and variety of food was 
staggering. If this was what self-sufficiency could produce, I 
doubted there'd be anything I'd miss.

Each of the other fifty-two couples stopped by to introduce 
themselves, but after the first ten, the faces all started to 
blur together. Tanya must've noticed the dazed look on my 
face because she started to laugh.

"Don't worry, Dana. There won't be a quiz at the end of the 
night. Plus, we have something for you," she said with a 
smile as she reached for something in the canvas bag that 
hung off her chair. She looked very pleased as she handed 
me a large roll of paper.

As I unrolled it, I discovered a hand rendered map of the 
valley. It featured every road, every building, every name 
and what each family specialized in. I immediately planned 
to make it a permanent fixture in my office. I even knew 
right where I was going to hang it.

"This is incredible, Tanya! Thank you," I gushed.

"It wasn't just me. I had lots of help," she assured me 
modestly. "And it's up it you, of course, but we thought a 
good way for you to get to know everyone would be, 
instead of coming to your office for the initial 
consultation..."

"I could visit them in their homes," I finished for her with a 
smile. "That is a good idea."

"Wow, house calls. What a concept." Mulder said with a 
chuckle.

"And if you come with me, Mulder, I won't need the car to 
carry my files and you'll get to know everyone too."

"But I don't want you to think there's a rush. Get settled in 
and start on Monday," Tanya suggested, shrugging one 
shoulder.

"I only got a quick peak at my office. I'd like to get in there 
and get used to everything so I'm comfortable with it 
before I see my first patient there," I said as I rolled up the 
map.

"What did you think? I helped Bill with the furniture 
design," she asked nervously. "Mulder sent pictures of 
what he thought you'd like."

"Well you all did a fantastic job. It's beautiful. It's by far the 
nicest office I've ever had," I assured Tanya and gave 
Mulder's knee a squeeze.

Turning to face him, I found him smiling at me softly. His 
hazel eyes had a warmth in them I hadn't seen in years. 
Being together day in and day out must have made me 
blind to the fact that the light had slowly been draining out 
of him. It broke my heart to realize how truly unhappy he'd 
been.

My emotions must've been reflected on my face because 
Mulder's eyes crinkled questioningly at me. Forcing myself 
to smile, I leaned closer to him and pressed a soft kiss 
against his lips.

When I pulled back his eyes were wide with surprise. 
Suddenly, as if a switch had been flicked, I heard the clatter 
of dishes and the din of all the voices. I'd completely 
forgotten where we were.

Mulder brought his hand to my cheek. "Are you okay?" he 
asked quietly.

"I am. And I'm sorry the last six years were so hard on you. 
It became status quo and I didn't see what it was doing to 
you," I explained as I leaned into his caress.

"Scully," I wouldn't have made it through without you. You 
kept me going. You kept me sane," he told me earnestly.

Teasingly, I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

His face softened into a smile. "You did."

"It was quite a challenge," I said with a chuckle and turned 
back to Tanya.

 She was smiling at us. "You two are good together."

"I like to think so," Mulder said with a grin. "But I'm 
probably biased."

For the rest of the evening, I sat close to Mulder and held 
his hand. Being open about my feelings for him in a public 
place was new to me, but I felt totally at ease. 

It was after nine when we finally got home and Mulder's 
fervor in bed surpassed our earlier shower exploits. It was 
as though he'd bottled up all of the passion and intensity 
he'd had when we were partners and decided to release it 
all at one time. 

Had it been my first sexual encounter with him, he 
would've scared me off. It was like he wanted to consume 
me; like he would've crawled inside of me if he could. We 
ended up in a kama sutra-esque position with me in his lap 
and our arms and legs entwined around each other. I don't 
think there was any way we could've created any more 
contact between us. We were as close as it was possible to 
be.

We stayed that way after Mulder's second shuddering 
climax of the day. I was so far ahead in that department, 
I'd lost count. I wasn't positive what had triggered his raw 
need for me, but he was behaving like a man liberated 
from captivity. It was an apt comparison and I was more 
than delighted to celebrate his new found freedom with 
him.

When we finally collapsed to the bed, he pulled the covers 
over us. I snuggled back against him contentedly and 
started to drift off immediately. The last thing I remember 
before finally succumbing to sleep was Mulder murmuring 
in my ear.

"We'll be safe from the darkness here."

End chapter 3