Bridges
by Elizabeth Rowandale

Feedback:  Email: bstrbabs@gmail.com
Rating:  Mature
Relationship:  Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Additional Tags:  Angst, Romance, An X-File Case, Mytharc

Summary: A family in a small town in New Mexico appears to 
be suffering the ill effects of an encounter with Black 
Eyed Children. While in the desert to search out the truth, 
Mulder and Scully find themselves confronting more than 
they bargained for, both in the investigation and in their 
personal relationship. Early Season 11, turns AU after 
"This." Past and eventual present MSR.

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully and the search for the truth 
all belong to Chris Carter and Co. I'm just borrowing them. 
I promise to return them in no worse condition than Chris 
would.

Beta thanks to Annie, without whom I would probably 
still be sitting in a corner feeling sorry for myself and 
refusing to post, and to Erica who has been a wonderful 
addition to the beta team - I owe you both so much!

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay. First I was sick 
for a week, then I splattered water on my laptop trying to 
get Hamilton tickets and it was out of commission for a couple 
of days. The good news is, both my laptop and I have now 
recovered, I have Hamilton tickets, and I essentially wrote 
chapter 4 and 5 together, so I'm already a good chunk of the 
way through 5 (meaning it should be a much shorter gap in 
postings this time around). Hope you enjoy this one!


Copyright (c) 2018

Chapter 4

Scully tossed the keys to Mulder as they crossed the 
hospital parking lot. "You drive," she said, and he was a 
little amused, because it was not a question or a request, 
just an instruction. No malice, just Scully.

Mulder squished himself into the cramped space behind the 
wheel, then proceeded to slide the seat back several 
inches.

Scully kept her attention on her phone for a few minutes as 
he navigated onto the main road. 

The sheriff's station was back in Verdad, so Mulder had to 
negotiate the slight thickening of traffic in the heart of 
Las Cruces that passed for morning rush hour until they 
were once again at the edge of the town. The sun was 
already high in the sky. Mulder had tossed his suit jacket 
into the back of the car. He reached back now and pulled it 
through the space between the seats.

Scully automatically caught hold of the fabric, helping him 
negotiate as he drove. "What do you need?" she asked.

"Front left pocket," he said.

Scully pulled the jacket into her lap and fished in his 
pocket. They had never really had boundaries about things 
like this. Even before they had crossed the line from 
partners into couple, they had taken great liberties with 
one another's personal spaces and possessions. On multiple 
occasions, Scully had let herself into his motel room and 
packed up his things ready to leave some small town that 
had proven to be more the cause of its own problems than a 
victim. Now, she grasped the object he knew was the sole 
content of that pocket and pulled it out into her lap.

A glass bottle of her favorite brand of pink lemonade, 
exclusive to the southwestern part of the country.

Scully looked up at him with a subtle expression that was a 
mixture of surprise, curiosity, and a more intimate brand 
of affection he had missed too much these days. "You got me 
a lemonade?" she said softly.

Mulder shrugged, glancing back at the road. "They had a 
vending machine upstairs at the hospital. It's the desert, 
Scully, you need to stay hydrated."

"Thank you," she said, still watching his profile with a 
lingering smile. She popped off the lid and took a drink.

The sheriff's station in Verdad was one of the more modern 
and well-maintained buildings on the town's main street. 
Mulder parked in one of the angled parking spaces at the 
front of the building. He followed Scully past the 
flowering cactus garden, through the double doors into the 
well-airconditioned lobby.

They pulled off their sunglasses, adjusting to the interior 
dimness. Mulder was reaching for his badge and approaching 
the young man in uniform behind the front desk when a voice 
called out to him. "Agent Mulder, I presume?"

He looked up to see Sheriff Aster emerging from a glass-
walled office to the right of the reception area. The man 
approached with a polite but subdued smile. He had an air 
of heavy shouldered responsibility.

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. Good to meet you. I really 
appreciate you coming out here." The sheriff was a slender 
man, nearly as tall as Mulder. In his mid-forties, his 
sunbaked skin told stories of a life outdoors. His 
handshake was firm, a coiled and wiry strength radiating 
off his physique.

"We're glad to help any way we can," Mulder said.

"Sheriff," Scully said in greeting as he shook her hand in 
turn.

"Come on in, have a seat in my office." 

Mulder let Scully step past him and choose her chair before 
he settled into the one beside her. The decor in the 
sheriff's office was nicer than what they had seen in many 
other towns the size of Verdad. The walls were painted in 
pastels and desert tones, and elegant framed photos of 
wildlife adorned one wall. The people here seemed to 
prioritize maintenance of law enforcement and hospital 
services.

Aster closed his office door, then he circled to his side 
of desk. He stood for a moment at his own chair, hands on 
his hips. A large window behind the desk had the blinds 
turned up to dampen the morning sun, but the sheriff was 
still thrown into dark silhouette. His brow creased with a 
flicker of concern, and his fingers drummed restlessly on 
his gun belt. "If you don't mind my asking, Agents, why 
didn't the FBI send someone from one of the local field 
offices? Why schlep you two all the way out here from 
D.C.?"

Mulder nodded in acknowledgment of the fairness of the 
question. "Agent Scully and I specialize in cases that are 
unclear on their classification."

Considering Mulder's words, Aster turned his gaze toward 
Scully, and she met the challenge with a lifted chin and 
slightly raised eyebrow. Having Scully as a brick wall at 
his side was a tool Mulder had relished on many occasions. 
Of course, her impact could be equally damaging when she 
didn't believe in his cause, when the local law enforcement 
could read her lack of faith in his theory. But today she 
was presenting a united front. So far. Maybe the lemonade 
had helped.

Aster nodded to himself, accepting their story, and settled 
into his padded leather chair. "Can I get you something? 
Some coffee? Water?"

"No, thank you, we're fine," Scully said. "We were able to 
stop by the morgue in El Paso yesterday evening and speak 
with Dr. Johanson about Mr. Garcia. I'd be interested to 
hear your thoughts on the accident."

Aster gave a heavy sigh and folded his hands over his 
neatly organized desktop. A few inches from his fingers 
stood a perpetual motion machine of suspended metal balls, 
now hanging still. "Honestly, I can't find a clear cause 
for the accident. The car is still being looked at for any 
hidden mechanical failures. But there are no clear 
footprints or animal tracks at the scene that would 
indicate Mr. Garcia might have swerved to avoid something. 
No one has come forward as a witness. Johanson hasn't come 
up with anything on the autopsy. Preliminary tox screen 
looks clear. We're still waiting on the full report, but... 
The truth is, I'm at a loss."

Scully crossed her legs and leaned in a little, forearm 
resting on her knee. "Well, there are certainly many 
similar accidents across the country every day without a 
clear explanation. An internal distraction, something 
dropped on the floorboard the driver reached for, bad news 
on a cell phone call. I assume you've checked Mr. Garcia's 
phone records?"

"We're working on it, still waiting for that to come in. 
Honestly, if it weren't for the other circumstances, I 
probably would accept the accident as just that, a freak 
situation we'll probably never fully understand. We've had 
our share of those, especially at the speeds people drive 
on the open roads around here."

"So, exactly what other circumstances lead you to believe 
that this case is different?" Mulder asked.

Aster shifted his gaze off toward the far wall of the 
office, through the glass to the distant regions of the 
lobby. He shrugged. "It just seems like way too much of a 
coincidence, don't you think? All of this?"

Mulder could feel Scully's jaw tensing beside him. He 
refused to look at her.

The sheriff continued his thought without their response. 
"I mean, first the reports from the Garcias of the strange 
children at their house, then the grandmother's rare 
illness, the boy getting sick, and now Mr. Garcia's 
accident. This is an ordinary family, Agent Mulder. My 
sister's kids are on a swim team with Christian. I can't 
imagine why anyone would have it in for them, not like 
this. I used to work in El Paso PD. That's a border town. 
Not unfamiliar with the drug scene. And what we're seeing 
here...the systematic elimination of an innocent 
family...that smacks of cartel. Except these aren't 
drugland slayings. These aren't deaths that can be easily 
*caused,* if at all. It's like the family is...I don't 
know, cursed or something," he finished, shoulders sagging 
as if even suggesting such a thing were a sign of his 
failure as an officer.

"Are you saying you subscribe to Mariela's belief that 
these incidents were brought on by the Garcias' contact 
with the Black-Eyed Children?" Mulder prompted, knowing 
Scully wouldn't be the first to suggest the paranormal. She 
would leave that up to the sheriff. Mulder believed in 
taking the plunge early and finding out where he stood with 
the locals.

Aster turned his full attention onto Mulder, pulling up 
straighter in his chair and pressing his palms into his 
desk. "No, sir. I have heard the rumors, and that kind of 
thing spreads like wildfire around here. That is exactly 
why I wanted you folks to assist in this matter. I want to 
find the real cause behind this, not resort to folklore. 
All I'm saying is that I see how the idea would take hold."

"Are you familiar with the stories of the Black-Eyed Kids? 
Have you received reports before?"

The man sighed heavily. Still backlit from his office 
window, he appeared like a stone standing strong against 
the onslaught of light. "Look, Agent Mulder. There have 
been a few other reports about the kids, lately. But here's 
the thing: We're not that far from Roswell in one direction 
and White Sands Missile Range in the other. Huge swaths of 
land around here are inaccessible to the public, a testing 
ground for all kinds of government technology. Rumors run 
rampant down here, things get reported, stories spread... 
People blame the government for a lot of things. And when 
that doesn't work..."

"...they blame alien governments?" Mulder offered.

Aster huffed out a humorless laugh. "Something like that. 
But these people died for a reason. One we can explain if 
we look hard enough. And I want to get to the bottom of 
it."

"And we will do all we can to help you accomplish that 
goal, Sheriff," Scully offered sincerely.

Aster nodded, seeming to sense her unclouded commitment to 
the facts.

"Do you think it's possible someone is preying on the 
community's vulnerability?" she asked. "Do you suspect 
hoaxes? Teenaged pranksters?"

"It's possible," the sheriff said, words slow and careful. 
"It wouldn't be the first time. It also wouldn't be the 
first time that imaginations just got out of hand and there 
was ultimately nothing there to see. If you don't mind, I'd 
rather start with the concrete evidence before I look too 
deeply into spooky stories. I hope seeing law enforcement 
taking clear steps will reassure the community that there 
isn't some nameless threat beyond our control."

Scully cleared her throat. "Well, in the interest of 
pursuing that course, could you give us directions to the 
exact location where Mr. Garcia's accident took place? We'd 
like to investigate the scene ourselves."

"Absolutely. I can take you out there myself, if you'd 
like."

Scully shook her head. "I don't think that's necessary, 
unless there's something specific you would like to show us 
we couldn't find on our own. I'm sure you have enough going 
on here without having to walk us through our job," Scully 
finished with a polite smile.

The sheriff started to reply, but broke off when a female 
officer wrapped her knuckles on the frosted glass of his 
open door and pushed it open a crack. The woman was at 
least a food shorter than Aster. Slender, but muscular, 
hair secured into a long tight braid. "Pardon the 
interruption," she said briskly.

"What is it, Janet?"

"Just got a call from the Monroes out on Camino de 
Primavera. Again. Seems like another domestic. Peterson is 
about 15 minutes out, but I thought you'd want to know 
about this one."

Mulder took the opportunity handed them. He did want to 
pump Aster for more details about any strange complaints in 
recent weeks, but Scully had had the right idea in trying 
to secure them access to the accident scene without anyone 
looking over their shoulders. He pushed up from his chair. 
"Like Agent Scully said, you clearly have a job to do, 
Sheriff. Just give us the location, and we'll be out of 
your way. We'll touch base later, compare our impressions."

Aster hesitated for a moment, eyes jumping from Mulder to 
the officer in the doorway, then he gave a decisive nod. 
"All right. Janet, radio Peterson, tell him I'll be right 
behind him." Janet nodded and disappeared back down the 
hall. Aster reached for a pen and paper. He began sketching 
a quick map. "It's out on the county road. Here's the 
nearest mile marker. You'll see a small trail up the valley 
toward a ranch house in the side of the mountain. About 500 
feet north of the turnoff, there's a large juniper tree on 
your left. You'll see the damage from the impact of the car 
and probably some leftover crime scene tape."

Scully took the proffered paper. "Thank you, Sheriff. We'll 
be in touch."

They were outside again in the increasingly intense desert 
sun, and Mulder was rounding to the driver's side of the 
car when Scully paused with her fingers on the passenger 
door handle, and said, "Mulder, did you notice the scar on 
the back of Sheriff Aster's neck?"

He looked up, wishing there were no sunglasses between his 
eyes and hers. Ninety percent of the important things 
Scully said in life were said with her eyes. "No, I didn't 
notice. What was it?"

She looked down. "Probably nothing. Just...it looked a 
little like mine." She pulled open the door and sank into 
the car.

Mulder stared at the car hood for a moment, then climbed 
into the driver's seat.

As Mulder navigated them out of the parking lot, Scully 
flipped open the manila file on the case and dropped the 
map onto the top of the paperwork. She read the names of 
the main connecting routes, and Mulder tried to relate them 
to what he had learned so far of the basic layout of the 
town. They didn't have an exact address to enter into the 
GPS. Scully had brought up a map on her phone and was 
zooming in and matching the road names to Aster's sketched 
route. Mulder couldn't help but notice that she unclipped a 
photo print of an online sketch of a supposed Black-Eyed 
Child from the left side of the folder, flipped it over, 
and re-clipped it so the face could no longer be seen. That 
was the third time in 24 hours he had seen her turn or 
cover one of the pictures.

"The exit for the county road Aster was talking about 
should be up next. About a quarter of a mile."

"Aren't we going toward White Sands? Is this a back route 
into the installation?"

"Maybe it used to be. There are only two gates, now. None 
of these old roads connect, anymore. At least not 
publicly."

"How do you know that?"

"We were out here before, Mulder."

He stared at her. "We've been to Las Cruces before?"

"No, but we were on the other side. Alamogordo, by Holloman 
Air Force Base. Back in...God, what was it....the late 
nineties? We never came all the way down here, though."

"Then, I repeat...how do you know that?"

"Well, I paid attention at the time. And I get bored on 
planes. Sometimes maps are the only thing to look at when 
you're snoring too loudly for me to focus on what I'm 
reading."

"Ouch."

"You asked."

"And maybe now--"

"This is your exit, right here."

"This?"

"Yeah, right here." Scully glanced over her shoulder to the 
far right lane. "You're clear, take it."

They drove down the county road in silence, watching as the 
buildings thinned, as their own elevation gradually rose 
and Las Cruces sank from view into the now distant valley.

"Are we getting close?" Mulder asked, watching an actual 
tumbleweed dance across the two-lane road. He was expecting 
a roadrunner any second with a determined coyote close 
behind. He realized they had passed only one other car in 
the last five minutes.

"Very," Scully said. "We're only one mile marker away." She 
leaned forward a bit, gazing out the windshield and off to 
her left. "In fact, I think that's the turn-off for the 
ranch house the sheriff talked about right up there."

"So, we should be close." Mulder touched his foot to the 
brake, intending to pull over as they approached the scene. 
But the pedal didn't fully respond. He tried again. The 
brakes felt spongy and sticky, like they couldn't find 
traction. He tried to angle the car toward the right 
shoulder, but the wheel would barely turn and the 
trajectory of the car rapidly shifted toward the left.

Scully caught on. "Mulder? What's going on?"

"I don't know...."

"Mulder, slow down!"

"I can't, the car's not--"

They were heading on an angle across the oncoming lane, 
toward a large cactus in a shallow ravine at the left of 
the road.

Mulder slammed down on the increasingly useless brakes, 
pulled up the emergency brake hard, and gave a last yank on 
the unyielding steering wheel. "Scully, hold on!" he cried, 
swinging out an arm across her chest just as they slammed 
into the ravine.

In the silence following the crash, the sound of their 
rapid breathing and the rush of blood in Mulder's ears was 
inexplicably loud. He turned his head toward Scully, neck a 
little painful in the aftermath, "Are you okay?"

Scully was panting through parted lips, eyes wide, staring 
at the cactus now tucked awkwardly into the front of their 
car.

"Scully?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm fine." Her voice was 
shaking. "Are you okay?"

"I think so, yeah."

Scully's fingers curled around his arm where it remained 
across her chest, and he let his hand fall to her lap.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I...honestly don't know. The steering wheel just stopped 
working, I couldn't turn the car. The brakes barely worked, 
they only slowed us down a little. I'm sorry."

"That's not your fault," she said matter-of-factly, gaze 
scanning their surroundings. 

Scully snapped open her seatbelt and Mulder did the same, 
grateful when both latches responded normally. His life had 
been saved more than once by a seatbelt, but he was also 
just a little bit terrified of being trapped in a deadly 
situation.

Scully got out of the car and walked several feet back up 
the road. She was scanning the pavement, as though she 
could find something to explain what had affected their 
car, what had thrown them into the ravine. 

Mulder trailed behind her, pulling off his sunglasses 
despite the glare. He was still feeling a little 
claustrophobic.

She turned to him now, bewildered as her search came up 
empty. "Did something just go wrong with the car?"

Mulder shrugged. "You've got me, Scully. That's a lot of 
things to go wrong all at once." He turned back to the 
offending vehicle.

Scully came closer and stooped down to try to see 
underneath the car. "Do you think someone tampered with it? 
Sabotaged our car?"

Mulder shook his head. "I have no idea. It's possible." He 
looked over his shoulder, toward potential oncoming 
traffic. He squinted at a distant flash of yellow.

"Scully?"

"Yeah?"

He pointed up the road. "Is that where we were headed? Is 
that the tree Mr. Garcia crashed into?"

Scully pushed to her feet and stepped up beside him, hand 
shading her eyes as she followed his gaze into the 
distance. "Yeah, that should be it," she said softly, 
thoughts spinning almost audibly. He had told her once that 
he could hear her thinking. It was still true.

They turned back to their own useless vehicle and stared in 
silence for a long moment.

"Hunh," Mulder said at last.

They continued to stare and breathe for another long 
moment, steam rising off the crumpled hood of the 
automobile.

Then Scully said, "Okay, it's weird."

Mulder just bit his lip and nodded.

*****

The accident gave them plenty of time to investigate the 
crime scene while they waited for a tow truck. Not that 
there was much to see. A few days had passed since Mr. 
Garcia's crash. Animal tracks would have faded. Skid marks 
were faint. But the unnerving truth that Scully could not 
quite push from her awareness was that the pattern seemed 
uncannily similar to what they had just experienced. A tree 
on the left side of the road, just at the edge of the 
shallow ravine. No other cars around. No distraction. No 
clear reason for the accident.

The big difference: Joseph Garcia was dead, and they were 
alive.

Scully kept telling herself an examination of their car 
would show a clear mechanical failure. Or signs of 
tampering. Perhaps something similar would turn up on the 
Garcias' car as well.

Eventually, she gave up on the crime scene and walked back 
to wait by their car. The mid-day sun was glaring down on 
this barren expanse of ground, and the intensity was 
noticeable on the back of her neck and the bridge of her 
nose. She should put on sunblock. She had some in her 
briefcase.

Mulder drifted back toward where she stood, a thin sheen of 
sweat forming on his forehead. They weren't used to the 
heat, yet. Or the elevation. Scully reached through the 
open car window and pulled out her now quite warm lemonade. 
She drained the last of it, replenishing her fluids and 
giving herself a little sugar kick.

"You should get some water," she said to Mulder, and he 
nodded.

They had bought a twelve-pack of bottles the first night in 
town and left it on the floor of the backseat. He fetched 
himself a bottle and tossed one to her as well. She took a 
drink and found she was still surprisingly thirsty.

Mulder leaned back on the car door beside her. He squinted 
up at the wide expanse of desert sky. The clouds over the 
southwest could be vast and endless like nowhere else. "No 
stars this time, Scully," he said. He tilted his head down 
to her. "You want to play tick-tac-toe in the sand?"

"Pass," she said. "How long did they say it would take?"

He looked at his watch. "Another twenty minutes or so. 
Dispatch said they were short-handed today."

"Perfect."

"Hey, at least you're warm and dry, right?"

"There is that," she conceded with a brief smile. She took 
another drink of her water and stared at the sand and dust 
coating the toes of her black pumps. She would be finding 
traces of sand for weeks after this case.

*No stars this time, Scully. Surrender to the flow.* 

Sixteen years could pass like a heartbeat.


//////////

Their rental car dies about 10:00pm on a back road to 
nowhere. It takes a while just to track down a name and a 
general mile marker to give the tow truck driver; along 
with their aliases du jour, of course. They are June and 
Todd Hoffman this night. She has been going with months of 
the year, lately. In the past two weeks she has been April, 
Augusta, and October. She is a little partial to October. 
It is pleasantly exotic. Maybe she should dye her hair dark 
and pretend she is the grown-up version of a former goth 
girl. 

Next month she is thinking of going with flowers. Rose, 
Lily, Daisy, Laurel. 

She misses Dana. But he still whispers it to her at night. 
So she will never forget. 

"How long has it been?" she asks, again. 

"Five minutes since the last time you asked. Surrender to 
the flow, Scully. The nearest tow truck was ninety minutes 
away." 

"Fine." She is not really that impatient, she is just 
tired. They were looking for a place to stop for the night 
when the engine gave out. 

"Besides," Mulder says, "it's a beautiful night. Look up, 
Scully, look at all these stars." 

He is right about that. No matter how much time they spend 
away from the city, she continues to be amazed by the 
virtual ceiling of starlight that blankets the rural night. 

"Here, I've got an idea," Mulder says, and there is a 
slight sparkle in his eye that both warms her and makes her 
a bit wary as he rounds the car and rummages through the 
trunk. 

"Mulder, we're not going fairy hunting in the woods." 

"Don't be ridiculous, Scully," he says, head still in the 
trunk. "There are no fairies in this part of the country. 
They migrated in 1963. But, no, nothing as exciting and 
complex as that." 

He emerges from beneath the trunk lid, carrying nothing but 
a thick blanket. 

"We're not doing that in the woods either," she quips. 

Mulder flashes a sarcastic smile and nods. "Another 
appealing idea, but wrong again." 

He proceeds to open one of the car doors and step up onto 
the runner. With a bit of dramatic flourish, he spreads the 
thick if slightly dog-eared blanket over the top of the 
car. "Come on." He holds out a hand to her. "Let's do some 
stargazing." 

A grin tugs at the corners of her mouth despite her 
attempts to remain cynical. "Mulder..." 

He nods her toward him with his head. "Come on. Come on 
up." 

She steps toward the car as Mulder steps down off the 
runner. He rests his hands on her hips, guiding her to 
climb up onto the front of the car and slip off her shoes. 
She is a little self-conscious about the angle as she 
climbs. About letting her blouse ride up and the snug low 
band of her slacks, because it's been over a year, but she 
still hasn't lost all the pregnancy weight, and it makes 
her feel like she is in the wrong body. It was easier when 
she still had her baby, nestling against her padded curves. 
Now she is just a stranger in her own skin. She wants to be 
hard and tough again. 

Mulder loves her in every shape and she knows it, but it's 
still hard to believe some days. 

She makes it onto the roof with a reasonable amount of 
grace. Mulder is right behind her. 

They stretch out on their backs on the blanket, side by 
side in the warm, still night. The position is surprisingly 
comfortable. And she really is tired, really had meant to 
be finishing a hot shower and crawling into a welcoming bed 
by now. She stretches her spine, lets her ribcage spread as 
she draws a full breath of the night air. Mulder's body is 
a grounding and soothing warmth alongside her own. It's 
been a few months, long enough for them to get on each 
other's nerves a few times, long enough for them to snap 
and bicker and want to take breaks. But his very real 
presence beside her still has an air of wonder about it. 
She is grateful every time she looks up or reaches out a 
hand and bumps into his warmth, no matter how pissed she is 
at him in the moment. 

"They really are beautiful," she whispers. She lets her 
thigh fall against his. 

"That they are." There is that little bit of boyish wonder 
in his voice. After all he has lost, all the scars he 
bears. She needs that. His hope keeps her own alive. She 
wavered without him. 

"Are you sorry you didn't become an astronaut, Mulder? That 
you never made it to those stars?" 

To her surprise, his answer is quick and clear. "No. I 
think some things are meant to be seen just the way they 
are. From right here on Earth." 

"I thought you wanted to know everything that's out there. 
Solve all the mysteries of the unknown." 

"Actually, Scully, I think that's you. You're the one who 
wants it all to make sense. To study it all, classify it. 
Me...I want to see the possibilities." 

Mulder is still watching the stars, but now Scully is 
watching him. 

"And what do you see up there, Mulder? What possibilities 
do you see for us?" She tries for playful banter, but a 
whisper of the bleakness lurking in her chest bleeds into 
the words. 

He turns to her then, tangles his fingers with hers and 
rests their joined hands on his thigh. He's so close in the 
dark she can feel the breath of his words. "Scully, I 
know," he says, with such intimacy and understanding and 
unclouded love it takes her breath away. 

Her heart rate accelerates and her stomach flutters. "Know 
what?" she asks, but she knows. 

"I know you went through hell while I was gone. I know 
you're still fighting your way back. I can't even 
imagine...I lost him, too, but I only had him for a moment. 
You..." 

She catches her breath and looks back up at the stars. They 
don't talk about this. 

"I know it's hard to see anything right now but the dark 
between the stars," he says to her profile. "But when you 
look closely, really really closely...you can see there are 
more stars, even in the dark places. They're just a little 
farther away. You need a little help to see them. But 
they're still up there. And they won't fail you." 

She keeps staring at the stars and tries to breathe. She 
squeezes his hand hard. 

They stay quiet for a long time. 

"Do you think he'll love to look up at the stars?" she 
whispers. 

"How could he not?" he says. "He started his life looking 
up at you."

//////////


*****

(end Chapter 4)