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, to Erica who makes me much more 
presentable to the world, and to my dear friend Miriam, who 
has been kicking my butt into line for decades now.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've been instructed this chapter should 
come with a tissue warning. And possibly a 'shippy feels 
warning.:)


Copyright (c) 2018
 
Chapter 13
 
"Can Mariela take me?"

Scully couldn't suppress a smile at the pure innocent 
enthusiasm in Christian's voice. If only adults could 
bounce back from death's door with such immediate disregard 
for all that came before.

"Can she?" the boy asked again, brown eyes gazing 
imploringly over his shoulder at the young nurse's aide 
behind his wheelchair. The doctors were not yet letting 
Christian walk more than a few steps, but he was being 
rolled around the hospital floor at intervals for a healthy 
change of scene.

The aide grinned down at her hopeful charge and gave a 
quick glance toward Mariela, who stood nearby. "I think 
that would be okay," the woman said. She hardly looked more 
than a couple of years older than Mariela, and Scully 
wondered once again whether the working world had really 
been so young in her own youth and she just hadn't noticed. 
"Just not too fast, and no more than fifteen minutes; he 
needs to be back for meds."

Mariela nodded and moved into the place the aide had just 
vacated behind Christian's chair. "I promise, I won't lose 
him, and no wheelies."

"Wheelies, YES!" Christian countered, voice still hoarse 
from days of intubation, but no less enthusiastic for it. 
Mariela tugged on the boy's hair.

"Come on, Weirdo, let's go."

As the two younger Garcias made their way out of the room, 
the nurse's aide trailing dutifully behind, Mulder turned 
his focus to their mother, who stood beside the bed with 
two large duffle bags she had hauled up from the car. "Is 
Mariela taking some time off from school?" Mulder asked.

Donna huffed out a breath. "We should be so lucky. No, you 
can't get that one to miss a day of progress, even for the 
death of her own father. She's far too serious, my girl. 
Takes the world all upon herself. It's a teacher's 
conference at the high school today."

Mulder nodded, and Scully stepped up beside Donna Garcia as 
she took in the meaning of the duffle bags and what the 
woman had started to do. Scully silently began unpacking 
and refolding the clean items as Donna pulled her son's 
laundry from the wardrobe near the foot of the bed.

"So, what is it you want to know about all of this, Mr. 
Mulder?" Donna asked, glancing toward Mulder as she shoved 
a pile of Pokemon socks into an empty duffle. "What exactly 
are you investigating?"

"Well, we were actually hoping you might be able to shine a 
little light on that question yourself. Tell us in your own 
words, if you would, Mrs. Garcia--"

"Donna."

"--Donna...what do you think has happened to your family 
over the past month?"

Donna returned to the bed and began pulling Spiderman 
underwear from the same bag Scully was working from, 
folding and adding things to Scully's already established 
piles. "What is it...," Donna said, glancing briefly toward 
Scully, "...from those books Christian loves...the one with 
the Netflix series...'A Series of Unfortunate Events'."

Mulder gave a soft laugh and took a step closer, fingers 
resting lightly on his hips. "So you don't believe any of 
the tragedies are connected? That there was no single 
catalyst?"

"Truthfully..." Donna lingered over a small dinosaur T-
shirt, her expression sobering as her gaze turned inward. 
"I don't honestly know, Agents. Mariela's right, our visit 
from the Black-Eyed children was...extraordinary. And 
ominous. I don't know if those kids were supernatural or 
just kids and it was all completely coincidental. But it 
felt like things...shifted...that night. And nothing was 
ever the same. But perhaps that's just my mind trying to 
justify something I can't seem to cope with."

"Well, you've been given a set of circumstances I doubt the 
best of us could cope with any better that you already 
have," Scully offered, and Donna tossed her a brief but 
appreciative smile.

Donna drew a long breath. "My mother-in-law got sick. That 
happens. My son got sick. And now he's getting better. 
Mariela's rash seems to be flaring up less than it was. 
It's fading, and she has no other symptoms. As you said, 
Agent Scully, that could easily have been a symptom of 
stress. And my husband..." Donna paused in her work, 
lowered the jeans in her hands to the top of the open bag 
in front of her. "My husband...was in a fatal accident." 
The words were clearly still difficult to say aloud. Scully 
understood how that could feel. (*How are your parents? Oh, 
it's just my mom, now. And your brothers? Your sister? How 
is your son? He must be in high school by now.*) "I can't 
explain the circumstances of the crash," Donna continued, 
"but that doesn't mean they weren't explainable if I had 
been there to see it all. Did I hear correctly that Sheriff 
Aster is investigating something about military experiments 
in that area? Radiation of some kind?"

Mulder nodded. "The military is taking over that 
investigation, but yes. In fact, Agent Scully and I were in 
a similar accident a couple of days ago, within sight of 
the location of your husband's crash."

That got her attention. "Are you all right?" She glanced 
between them.

"We're fine," Scully was quick to reassure. And to reroute 
the topic back to the Garcias. "But we do think it's 
possible that something in the area has been interfering 
with vehicle functionality. We don't know if that's the 
case, but it does seem worth investigating."

"But you think it was random? Not targeted?"

Scully shook her head. "We haven't seen anything to 
indicate a directed attack of any kind, no. So far, 
investigation of the cars has come up clean. No signs of 
tampering."

Donna narrowed her eyes, letting this new information 
steep. "If it was random, then nothing much changes for 
me."

"Unless the government was outside of their rights. They 
may have failed to shield or warn the local population of a 
potential danger resulting from their activities."

"They may very well have, yes," Donna replied. "And that 
should be brought to light, to protect others in the 
future. But focusing our attention," she brought a hand to 
her chest for emphasis, "us, as a family, on justice or 
vengeance...those things will not help us to heal or 
rebuild our lives. Without Joseph."

Scully released a breath with a soft hum in the back of her 
throat. "I admire your enlightened perspective. I'm not 
sure I could redirect my focus so easily."

"It's probably different for you. Such things have been 
part of your drive, your...prime directive, so to 
speak...for a long time." Donna's tone was easy, and 
honest, and Scully merely accepted the woman's reply in 
silence.

"Mrs.--Donna, are you aware there was an arrest made last 
night?" Mulder asked.

"Arrest of whom? For what?"

"Two local kids who were seen visiting people's houses late 
at night, dressed up as Black-Eyed Children, asking to be 
let inside. We've got two positive IDs. Do you think you or 
Mariela would be willing to take a look at a picture of 
these kids? See if they could be the same kids who came to 
your home?"

Donna nodded. "Of course."

Mulder took a step closer, sliding his copy of the mug 
shots from the inner pocket of his suit coat.

Donna took the paper from Mulder's outstretched hand. 
Scully took the opportunity to surreptitiously study the 
photographs once more over Mrs. Garcia's shoulder. Just as 
before, there was nothing about these kids that made her 
heart race or her stomach quiver. She saw nothing but 
ordinary children, desperately sad they had been caught in 
a prank beyond their innocent years. She had not felt 
innocence in her early morning visitors.

Beside her, Donna Garcia slowly shook her head. "I don't 
think I've seen these kids before. As I've said to the 
police, my memories from the night we let them in the house 
are...blurry? Clouded. Like when you've been drinking, but 
I hadn't. Not at all. But I do remember faces. And neither 
of these children look familiar. And they seem older."

"Older than the kids you saw?" Mulder asked.

"Yes. I felt more...protective. Of the kids we saw."

Mulder waited a moment longer, letting Donna stare down at 
the pictures. Then she looked up decisively and held the 
paper back toward him. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can help 
you, here."

"It's all right," Mulder said. "Thank you for looking." He 
tucked the picture back into his jacket. "Do you mind if I 
show this to Mariela?"

Donna shook her head. "No, not as long as she is okay with 
it."

As if on cue, Mariela and Christian whizzed by the door, 
Mariela pushing the wheelchair a bit too fast and spinning 
her brother to a halt outside his room. Their mother called 
out to Mariela to go easy, but there was no real anger in 
her tone, only gentle concern.

Mulder watched the kids for a moment, then he started 
toward them, gesturing to Christian's shirt. "Hey, is that 
the El Paso Chihuahuas? You like baseball?" Mulder stooped 
down to the boy's level when he reached the doorway.

Christian lit up. "My dad took me to a game last year. I'm 
going out for Little League this spring!"

And Mulder was off being his adorably charming self when it 
came to kids and baseball. He unbelievably had a baseball 
card of some kind in his wallet, and when he had passed the 
treasure into Christian's eager hands and secured the boy's 
attention on that, he took out the arrest photos to show 
Mariela.

The girl gave the request the same careful attention her 
mother had, but her response was a frown and a slight shake 
of her head. Mulder lifted his gaze and caught Scully's in 
a conditioned exchange of partner information. Then a 
second look passed between them when Mulder snatched the 
card from Christian's hands, made it disappear up his 
sleeve, then made it reappear behind the boy's ear.

Scully offered him a smile with her eyes, and somewhere in 
the pit of her stomach it was there, as it always was 
between them in such moments -- *This is what it would have 
been like with William.*

"It's him, isn't it?"

Scully startled out of her reverie, abruptly aware that 
Donna had been watching her watch her partner.

Scully narrowed her eyes and lifted an eyebrow in question. 
"I'm sorry?"

"The one you spoke about," Donna continued evenly. "At the 
funeral. The one...more so than the others."

Scully sniffed and lowered her gaze. She swallowed. She 
didn't confirm or deny, but she knew her reaction was 
enough. She scooped up the pile of folded shirts and 
carried it to the wardrobe. After a moment of quiet, she 
said to Donna, "You know you remind me of someone."

Donna zipped up the bag of laundry and dropped it to the 
floor. "Who is that?" she asked.

"My sister," Scully said, and she left it at that, gave no 
indication of an intent to explain why.

Donna did not ask. "Mariela said you lost your sister."

That surprised Scully on multiple levels. Firstly, that 
Mariela had shared this small detail with her mother, and 
secondly, that the girl had interpreted their brief 
exchange so accurately in the first place. "Yes," she 
confirmed after a beat. "A long time ago."

Donna said simply, "Time means very little in these 
things."

*You got to hold her, didn't you?*

Scully stared at the floor and gave only the smallest sound 
of response. She was feeling hot and restless and exposed. 
Tired of the desert, tired of voices calling her in the 
night, tired of everyone she spoke to seeming to know too 
much about her. Her neck still hurt and her skin was 
starting to itch and she just wanted out of this building 
and out of this town and back on familiar ground. Back 
where she felt she had some semblance of control.

*****

Scully almost took the keys from Mulder and insisted upon 
driving, but she was a little annoyed he hadn't even asked, 
just assumed she would take the passive role as usual, and 
she was just childishly pissy enough right now to prefer 
being silently angry at the wrong target to the more mature 
route of asserting her position. She was equally aware of 
the perplexing irony of having only recently apologized for 
misdirecting her anger toward Mulder.

In contrast, Mulder's mood had been significantly buoyed by 
seeing Christian well on the road to recovery, and in the 
bigger picture Scully felt that joy as well. She was just 
too caught up in her own head to fully process the victory. 
As far as the case was concerned, they had been information 
gathering all morning and now felt more at sea than they 
had when they had begun.

Scully could almost see the investigator's cogs turning in 
Mulder's head as he drove.

"So, now what do we focus on?" he asked, glancing briefly 
in her direction. She kept her gaze on the road ahead. 
Mulder seemed to be driving them back toward the motel. Not 
that he kept her informed of where they were going. He 
didn't wait for her reply before continuing to ponder 
aloud. "Honestly, I was expecting a corroboration in ID 
from the Garcias, but that was a pretty vague response."

"Actually, I think it was a pretty clear 'no,'" she said. 
"From both Donna and Mariela."

Mulder wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, you're probably right. So, 
you think there are more kids out there doing this? You 
think it's become a trendy prank?"

Scully shrugged. "I don't know. What are you thinking?"

"Maybe. Maybe...we still have no idea who perpetrated the 
initial encounters, and maybe these kids in custody this 
morning were just jumping on the bandwagon, making the most 
of the current climate of fear."

"Maybe."

Mulder glanced at her, twice, frowned, before asking, "Are 
you saying you agree with me? That there might 
be *actual* Black-Eyed Kids, and these are just imitators?"

Mulder turned back to the road as the traffic demanded his 
attention, and Scully glared at his profile. "How did you 
get that out of what I said?"

"Well, I just said that--"

"You said that the children the Garcias and possibly the 
Monroes saw before we arrived out here might be different 
people from the kids Sheriff Aster arrested last night. 
Nothing says that any of those encounters were 
supernatural."

"Well, then what do you think you saw last night? If your 
visitors weren't these kids we saw this morning, then who 
were they?"

"I don't know," she said, making it clear this was all she 
was going to say on the subject right now. She locked her 
gaze on the jagged silhouette of the Organ Mountains. A 
gathering of turkey vultures had perched along the nearest 
peak.

Mulder sighed, changed lanes as he navigated incoming 
mergers on the expressway. "Okay, then if there is no such 
thing as Black-Eyed Children, then what's your working 
theory? What explains what's happened to these people?"

"Reality? Coincidence? The unexplainable tragedy of the 
human condition? I mean, you heard Mrs. Garcia. No single 
event that happened to them defies logical explanation."

"And what about the Monroes?"

"What about them?"

"How do you explain what's been happening to their family?"

"How do I explain domestic disputes? If Black-Eyed Children 
are the instigators of every domestic dispute turned 
violent in our line of work, those must be some pretty 
damned busy kids."

Mulder tapped the steering wheel to make his point. 
"Scully, you were right there for Vera Monroe's 
interrogation. You really think the level of fear, the 
history of the familial relationships, makes linear sense 
for a completely terrestrial progression of events?"

Scully stared across at her partner, and he turned to meet 
her challenging gaze as he maneuvered the car into the exit 
lane for Verdad. Scully lifted her eyebrows. "What do you 
want me to say, Mulder? Yes. I see nothing out of the 
ordinary, here."

Mulder offered something like a frustrated groan. Scully 
turned to look out the passenger window at the dusty 
smattering of hollowed-out buildings between Las Cruces and 
the border of Verdad. Unincorporated nothingness and the 
last relics of a lifestyle blowing away on the winds of 
change. She felt Mulder fishing something out of the 
briefcase on the floorboard by her feet, and she chose not 
to pay attention or move to help. Some rattling, and a 
moment later she heard him cracking sunflower seeds between 
his teeth. Still his first choice of food for thought after 
all these years. The scent of Mulder and roasting sunflower 
seeds had become synonymous in her head. Somewhere along 
the way, certain bakeries she walked past had started 
making her horny, and it had taken her a while to figure 
out why.

"I just feel like we're not getting the whole story," 
Mulder said around a seed. He slowed the car as they turned 
onto Verdad's Main Street.

"How so?"

"It feels like too much of a personality flip. Mrs. Monroe 
paints the picture of a loyal family man, so much so that 
he was willing to overlook his fiancee's indiscretion and 
take in the child of that liaison as his own. And then 20 
years later we have a man who would turn a gun on his 
family out of pure suspicion, when it would appear Mrs. 
Monroe had done nothing wrong. There's a clear history of 
abuse, at least to my eyes. But over what? Is the man 
merely dissatisfied with his life? *Has* some outside force 
been plaguing them all along? Were they right about their 
suspicions back then?"

Scully reached over to where Mulder had the bag of seeds 
propped between his thighs and fished out a few for 
herself. She hadn't really eaten breakfast, which was 
probably making her more discontent. "I think you're 
looking too hard, Mulder. I think we have all the 
information we need to justify this scenario."

"How so?"

"The relationship started on rocky ground, and I think it 
has remained so. They were in different places as far back 
as college, and resentments have just continued to build."

"Over continuing behavior?" Mulder steered the car, one-
handed and with impressive finesse, into a parking place 
outside their motel. Just because he was territorial about 
driving didn't mean he wasn't good at it. "You think Ed 
Monroe had more to be jealous of than Vera has let on?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all."

Mulder sighed. "Well, then what are you saying?" He took 
one more mouthful of seeds, then stuffed the bag back into 
the outer pouch of her briefcase. She tugged the briefcase 
into her lap.

"I'm saying, I think it's perfectly plausible that a 
twenty-year-old betrayal could be the driving force for a 
present-day crime of passion," she said.

"Okay. But why now? If not the Black-Eyed Kids, then what 
was so powerful an instigator?"

Both agents paused their words in practiced custom as they 
got out of the car, gathered their things, and started 
walking. "Probably it's as simple as what Vera Monroe 
said," Scully continued, striding briskly toward the meager 
shade offered by the bulk of the motel. "The talk of the 
Black-Eyed Children, their possible new encounter 
themselves, echoed their experiences at the time of Vera's 
original affair. It brought it all up again."

"And you think that was impetus enough to push Ed over the 
edge like this?"

"Accompanied by other stressors. Running a small business 
in the current economy, facing middle age, seeing his son 
coming of age and considering the expense of college versus 
helping with the family business..."

Mulder had fallen a few steps behind. The parking lot was 
devoid of human activity, as usual, giving them some 
semblance of privacy as they spoke. "But you're saying you 
believe this potential for violence was in his character 
all along? That this wasn't a leap?"

"I'm saying...sometimes, Mulder...," Scully transferred the 
briefcase strap from one shoulder to the other, "...things 
just get buried rather than fixed. People move on, but they 
never face what happened. They think time will just make 
them forget. But nothing's ever entirely forgotten. Pain 
lessens, but an open wound will still fester beneath the 
dressing."

She heard Mulder's steps halt behind her. Then as she 
continued on her determined course toward the door, Mulder 
took the few strides of his long legs to catch up and 
circle her, nearly causing her to smack into him as she 
walked.

"Okay, now we're having a conversation I'm not quite caught 
up on," Mulder said, walking lithely backwards, leaning to 
catch the eye contact she was doing her best not to grant. 
"Tell me what we're talking about, Scully."

She slowed to a halt, nowhere left to go but past her door. 
She drew a soft breath, gazed at Mulder's belt buckle. "The 
Monroes," she said flatly.

Mulder nodded. "Yeah, we were. Now what are we talking 
about?"

Scully sighed, shifted her weight. She hadn't mean to start 
this, hadn't meant to be having this conversation, any 
conversation. She just wanted some food and some iced tea 
and out of these heels and into the air conditioning, and 
if he made her talk now she would say something that... 
"I'm just saying...I'm certainly not defending Ed Monroe's 
actions, he tried to kill me for God's sake, I'm just 
saying I understand what it feels like."

"Because...?"

"Because some things still hurt nearly twenty years later. 
And on the good days, they don't, they fade into the 
background, and they're almost, *almost* forgotten. But on 
other days they still sting. So I can imagine...that Mr. 
Monroe--"

Mulder nodded, still holding her in his hot gaze, like 
hands pressing on her shoulders and fuck him, why couldn't 
this be one of his oblivious and dense days, why had he 
chosen this afternoon to be his insightful and perceptive 
and sensitive self? Fuck. "And as an example in your 
life..." he coaxed.

"It doesn't matter. I was discussing the Monroes' 
situation."

"By comparing it to your own experience."

"Mulder--" She looked up and met his unfathomable grey 
eyes. Those eyes. Mulder's eyes. Her Mulder's eyes. Her 
lover's eyes. UFOs and conspiracies and a thousand 
stakeouts and cheese fries and gunshots and *I don't want 
you to think you have to hide anything from me,* and 
holding onto her hand for dear life and laughter and 
Christmas ornaments and rain-soaked streets and movie night 
and sex on the kitchen floor and--

And just like that, they weren't at work, anymore. They 
were Fox and Dana in a sunny parking lot in New Mexico, 25 
years into the most confusing and beautiful and passionate 
and painful relationship of her lifetime. *"Time can't just 
disappear!"*

"Come on," Mulder said. He took the annoyingly heavy 
briefcase from her shoulder and leaned it against the 
outside of the room door. This simple awareness of her 
minor discomfort, probably of her still sore neck, nearly 
made her cry. She was just so tired... "You just said it 
yourself, Scully. Burying things, pretending they never 
happened, it doesn't work. It leaves an open wound. But 
isn't that exactly what we're doing right now? We're 
pretending we weren't standing right here two days ago, 
saying the stuff we never say, anymore, the real stuff. But 
we left everything unresolved. That's what we stopped 
doing, isn't it? We started finishing our sentences, 
finishing our conversations, not leaving out the stuff that 
hurts. Or the stuff that we're uncertain about. Like a 
connection to lights in the sky, or what might have been 
Black-Eyed Children in the parking lot. That's how we were 
making it work for a while. So...you really want to go 
backwards? Because that feels like what we're doing."

Scully stared at him for a long beat, breath rapid and 
shallow, struggling to find a solid foothold in the rush of 
emotions flooding her limbs.

"Things that still sting twenty years later...such as..." 
Mulder leaned in to will her to finish the sentence.

"Such as Diana Fowley." The words left her lips before she 
heard them in her head.

Mulder's immediate reaction was too close to a laugh, and 
he was quick to cover with a cough and a breath, but it 
still felt like being hit in the gut. Even though she knew 
the response was more about the non sequitur, more akin to 
incredulous shock than any kind of derision. But it hurt.

"Diana Fowley? What...Scully, where the hell did that come 
from? What about Diana Fowley?"

"Forget it." She started to turn toward her room, reached 
into her pocket for her card key, but two long fingers on 
her wrist stilled her motion.

"Would you stop?" he said, a raw vulnerability and bone-
weary fatigue shimmering beneath his annoyance. And that 
was why she stopped. "Talk to me," he whispered. He let his 
hand fall away.

Scully turned to face him, held his gaze for a long time as 
she forced several deep breaths. She took her words one at 
a time. "I understand how it feels...when the most 
important person in your life...whom you thought felt at 
least generally the same as you did...suddenly seems eager 
to switch partners."

*"What?"*

"I get how that breaks foundations...and how it takes a 
long time...to feel secure, again."

Mulder shook his head, asking her with his eyes for more 
understanding. She could see that he was itching to touch 
her (and some traitorous part of her was desperate for 
that, as well), but she knew he was trying to give her her 
space and he was right, she needed it if she was going to 
keep talking.

"Scully, honestly, I've never understood what really 
happened between us back then. Why you were so angry with 
me."

Scully released a telling breath. "Well...maybe that was 
the problem."

"I just felt like...you were closed to everything I was 
trying to share with you. That you wouldn't even consider 
my side of things as long as Diana was involved. I know you 
didn't trust her, but I didn't want to hide what was 
happening from you, Scully. Diana had been a big part of my 
life, and I still cared for her. You've been in the same 
place. A couple of years after that, you still had feelings 
for Daniel, you still had a connection. How was that 
different?"

Scully gave a broken sound that was a hollow echo of a 
laugh. "How was that different? For Christ's sake, Mulder, 
it was different because I didn't turn on you or push you 
away. I didn't betray you."

"'Betray me.' Because you didn't sleep with him? And you 
think that I--"

"Oh, my God." Scully whirled on her heel, humming to drown 
out the rest of his sentence. She fumbled with her keycard. 
"No, no, no, we're not having that conversation. This is 
not about that. This is not about jealousy." *Except now it 
was there in her head, the image of Mulder and that...fuck, 
fuck, fuck.* Fucking keycard wouldn't work.

"You weren't jealous?"

Had she grabbed Mulder's card? Dammit... "Of course, I was 
jealous! But that I could get over." Maybe hers was in her 
briefcase.

Mulder's voice rose in a frustration echoing her own. "Then 
what is it about?"

Abandoning the unrelenting door, Scully whirled on him. 
"*Trust,* Mulder. Friendship. Meaning what you say."

"Did I lie to you?"

"No. You just left me behind."

"I what?"

"You thought everyone outside that building was in danger, 
but you left me in the car outside. I asked you to trust 
me, I reached for your hand, for our trust, for 
that...thing that has always held us together, and you 
acted like it didn't exist. Like it was meaningless. You 
let go of the rope." Damn it, her voice was shaking, and 
she hadn't meant to say any of this, but she hadn't slept 
and she was scared of what she was remembering and that 
stupid door wouldn't open, and...

"Scully..."

"And you never apologized. And you never said you were 
wrong, or that you took it back. So I was left with no 
other choice but to believe you still did and still do 
stand by everything you said. Everything that broke us."

The stricken expression on Mulder's face stabbed her with a 
pang of regret. She was hitting him with decades worth of 
stored hurt, fueled by a messed-up couple of years and a 
midnight visit that had shaken the hell out of her, and it 
wasn't fair, but she couldn't stop the flood. Not once he'd 
shoved open the gates.

"Scully, I chose you," Mulder said firmly. "I always chose 
you."

She shook her head, eyes watering in the sun. She had left 
her sunglasses in the car, that was all it was... "No, 
Mulder...you didn't. You never got the chance to. Diana 
died. And once again, I was your only option. And 
then...you started treating me like one in a million, 
again. When I filled a role you needed filled in your life. 
And there was no one else lining up for the job."

And that was when he heard it. The same argument they had 
been having two days ago. She saw the exact moment the cogs 
interlocked in his head, and it was exactly what she needed 
and the last thing on Earth she wanted. She exhaled and 
sagged, and he looked right at her and into her soul. 
"Scully..."

"Don't." She winced, pulled a half step away. She wasn't 
ready to confront this, they couldn't fix this.

She watched him regroup, give a terse nod. More facts, less 
sympathy. Logical debate, forever the key to her heart, and 
dammit he knew all her glitches and secret pathways and she 
would never win this battle. "Scully... Scully, you're right, 
I can't tell you without a shadow of a doubt what would 
have happened between 

Diana and me if she had lived. But I *can* tell you that 
I *never* would have stopped needing you. Trusting you. 
Needing you in my life."

She released a scoffing breath, because that simply wasn't 
how it had happened. Whatever story he told himself. 
"That's not how I remember it," was all she said.

Mulder drew a slow breath. "Scully, we were going through a 
rough patch. We were both trying to figure things out, who 
we were together and who we were as individuals. What our 
work meant, where we were going, what we wanted the future 
to be. And, yes, I was as pissed off at you some days 
during that time as you were at me. Some days you were 
shoving me away so hard I wondered if you had ever even 
liked me." He took a step closer and she couldn't make 
herself move back. His tone was intimate, creeping beneath 
her skin. "But I never left you. I was never going to 
choose a life with her that didn't include you."

"We can't know that. You never made a choice."

"Of course, I did."

She shook her head. The wind rose and fluttered her hair 
across her cheek. "You didn't. And if you did, Mulder, 
then...honestly? You'd chosen her. And if Diana were to 
show up here, today, alive, somehow...and you and I...we 
aren't really working, are we? Right? I don't want to get 
lost in the work. And maybe she does. Maybe she doesn't 
fight you on where you want your quest to go. Then..."

"Then I would be glad to see she's alive. I would wish her 
all the best. I would respect her as an agent, even though 
I know you don't, and I would still care about her, like 
you still care about people from your past. But Scully...if 
you think I could ever *replace* you, ever for a moment 
just...*move on*... You have never stopped being my other 
half. My Scully. The one I will *always* need...even on the 
days I'm too blockheaded to see it. Which, clearly, I was 
back then. But I was always going to come back to you."

"It didn't feel that way," she whispered. Her tone was 
petulant, resistant, and she was humiliated and hurting, 
and he was standing so close.

"Obviously not. And for that...Scully... " Mulder leaned in, 
tucked two guiding fingers beneath her chin, and gave his 
words every ounce of the weight the decades required. *"I'm 
sorry."*

Oh, God. Scully closed her eyes, exhaled, and tried so hard 
not to melt it ached in her bones. *Damn you, Mulder.*

"Have you really still been thinking about this so much? 
After all we've been through together? Our relationship? 
Our child? Our home?"

She drew a damp breath. "It crosses my mind."

"Well, then cut it off at the pass, G-woman. And hear 
this." Mulder grabbed her wrist, and Scully snapped her 
gaze to meet his at the urgency in his tone. "I have 
never...*EVER*...in my whole goddamned life, loved anyone 
like I love you. I have never needed anyone like I need 
you. I have never handed off the woman I thought was my 
sister in exchange for anyone but you. And I never will. 
Have I taken you for granted sometimes? Of course, I have. 
Because I'm an asshole. But Dana Katherine Scully...it has 
always been you. It will *always* be you. Whether you want 
me or not. Do you hear me?"

She stood in the building wind, stomach burning and tears 
blurring her vision. She let Mulder's words soak into her 
skin like a balm. He was breaking her and fixing her all in 
one swing. A metaphor for their life together.

Mulder seemed utterly baffled by how badly she had needed 
to hear his words. "How did you not know this?" he 
whispered, words more breath than form. He moved in close, 
and though the physical connection remained tentative, he 
brought a hand to her shoulder, cradled the other to her 
cheek and brushed away a tear. A rush of embarrassment made 
her shift her gaze away, but she leaned her temple into his 
jaw, rested a hand on his hip and gripped a little. They 
stood together, breathing in the quiet until their 
heartbeats synced up.

Until Mulder's cell phone rang.

Scully started to move away, downplaying her need, but 
Mulder simply said, "Fuck it," and kept his eyes closed, 
his hand on her cheek.

They stood for a moment longer. The phone kept ringing, and 
Scully gave a conceding smile, pulled a few inches away as 
she said, "You can answer it. That could be your contact."

It was romantic and corny and ridiculous as hell, but 
Scully knew she would remember it for the rest of her life 
when Mulder reached into his pocket, grabbed his cell 
phone, and hurled it blindly over a car into the parking 
lot. She gasped and stared, released an incredulous breath, 
but Mulder only cradled the back of her neck and guided her 
to meet his forehead with her own.

He had put her ahead of his work.

Her hands shook.

Mulder dipped his head and kissed the damp place at the top 
of her cheekbone, said against her forehead, "I'm here." 
And that was it, that made her cry. Really cry. She reached 
up an arm and cupped the back of his neck. Then she slipped 
into his arms, and he held her. Hard. "I'm here," he said 
again, words getting lost in her hair. She gripped the 
cloth of his shirt and breathed in the sunflower dust.

She wasn't sure how long they stood like that. But she was 
the first to move. And she knew he would have stayed until 
she said it was time, and she kind of wanted to stay with 
him the rest of her life for that. As she leaned away, 
still entangled, they held eye contact for a long breath 
before she said, "Come on. Let's go get your phone before 
it gets run over."

Mulder nodded, but he took his time. He smoothed back her 
hair in the wind. He gripped her auburn locks hard as he 
mouthed, "It's you." And she nodded, swallowed.

When he finally led the way, he grabbed her hand and 
wouldn't let go. It wasn't exactly FBI protocol, but 
clearly he no longer cared. And for this moment, neither 
did she.

*****

(End Chapter 13)