From Roswell to Virginia 2: All Alone in the Wilderness
by Vickie Moseley   

Summary:  Sequel to From Roswell to Virginia.  
Another Christmas is fast approaching and Scully 
gets an unexpected present from her big brother 
Bill.  Unexpected and unwanted.
Category:  post The Truth, pre IWTB, MSR, A
Disclaimer:  No copyright infringement, yadda, 
yadda, yadda.  No gain, no loss.
Archive:  yes
Author's note:  Just an early start to the Christmas 
season.  Happy Thanksgiving and have a safe and 
stress free Black Friday!
Comments to vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com


December 22

It was so quiet she almost missed it.  Scully went 
back to her reading, curled on the sofa, the winter 
sunlight coming weakly across her shoulder.

There.  She heard it this time.  It still wasn't loud, 
but enough for her to pick up in the near silent 
house.

A cough.

And then a sneeze.  Uncurling her legs, she flipped 
aside the lap blanket her mother had given her the 
last time she'd been to Baltimore and padded on 
sock feet to the closed wooden door.

She turned the knob and pushed, the ancient oak 
swinging forward on noiseless hinges.  "Mulder?"

He was bent over the desk, his hands moving 
quickly over the keys of his laptop.  While she 
stood there, trying to get his attention, he coughed 
again.

"Hey, are you OK?" she asked.  She entered the 
room, and walked over to her partner, placing a 
hand on his forehead.  "You're warm."

"I'm wearing a turtleneck and a wool sweater," he 
mumbled back, still typing.  Another cough caught 
him by surprise and he sneezed twice.  "'Scuse me," 
he said, grabbing a tissue from the box tettering on 
the corner of a pile of newspapers.

"God bless you," she said automatically.  "Do you 
want some tea with lemon?"

"Do I get whiskey in it if I say 'yes'?" he asked, his 
eyes dancing.

She rolled her eyes.  "Not if you take a 
decongestant, you don't."  She laid her hand on his 
back.  "Deep breath," she directed.

"Don' you need a stethoscope for that to be 
effective?"

"Shush," she replied.  "I don't hear a rattle, but I still 
think you need to be in bed."

He turned and regarded her with a raised eyebrow.  
"You're kidding," he said flatly.  "Scully, if you 
want to 'play doctor', it's a lot more fun when we're 
naked," he said flippantly and turned back to his 
computer.

"I'm getting the thermometer."

He reached out a hand and snagged the corner of 
her sweater.  "Scully, please.  I have a cold.  That's 
all.  Really."

She turned and looked at him.  "I want you to go to 
bed early tonight.  No staying up to watch Craig 
Ferguson."

He followed her out of the room and up the stairs to 
the small medicine cabinet above the bathroom 
sink.  She pulled out a standard thermometer and a 
bottle of decongestant.  "Here, open up."

"You know, I understood this before when your 
only patients were stiffs, but now you have a whole 
hospital to play with," he groused, but finally did as 
he was told, allowing her to place the cold tube 
under his tongue.  She promptly grabbed his wrist 
and stood staring at her watch while he just as 
promptly rolled his eyes and then made faces at her 
that she dutifully ignored.  When exactly four 
minutes had expired, she dropped his wrist and 
pulled the thermometer out of his mouth.  Holding it 
to the bathroom light she squinted at the tiny 
numbers.

"I thought you were going to get us one of those 
digitals ear things," he pointed out, clearing his 
throat and stifling another cough.

"Not as effective if the battery runs out," she said 
absently.  "Aha, 100 -- you do have a fever."

"Maybe I'm just hot for you," he said, grabbing her 
around the waist.  

"Mulder, I can't afford to be sick," she warned.  
"Now, in bed -- no arguments."

"Scully," he howled, "it's a cold!  Not the black 
death, not malaria, not even pneumonia.  I was right 
in the middle of something downstairs!"

"Take some decongestant, some tylenol and if you 
feel better after a nap, you can get back to it," she 
said reasonably -- or so it sounded to her.  He, on 
the other hand, stood there shaking his head.

"You know all those times you yell at me for 
'psychoanalyzing you'?"  He crossed his arms 
defiantly over his chest.  "Well, stop doctoring me."

"I don't 'yell' at you.  You just irritate me when you 
try to come up with neuroses I don't have.  But you 
are sick," she intoned, waving the thermometer at 
him.  He coughed again, this time followed by three 
sneezes in succession.  "There, you just proved my 
point," she added, steering him toward the bed.

"I'm not tired," he tired one last time.  "I'll get bored 
and I'll bug you all afternoon."

"Like that doesn't happen every afternoon I have 
off," she said before she realized it came out of her 
mouth.  At his hurt expression she reached up and 
swiped the unruly hair from his forehead.  "And I 
love being bugged," she said with an affectionate 
smirk.  "Tell you what -- I'll go get my journal and 
read up here so you won't get lonely."

Despite his repeated protest, Mulder was out like a 
light in less than half an hour.  Scully settled in to 
read her journal when her cell phone started to ring.  
Sighing and figuring it was the hospital calling her 
back to work, she crept out of the room, closing the 
bedroom door behind her.  She answered the phone 
as she worked her way down the steps.

"Dana, honey, it's Mom."

"Mom," she smiled.  "Hey, how's the wrapping?"  
This close to Christmas, Scully was certain her 
mother would be hip deep in boxes and tissue paper.

"Oh, I went with gift bags this year.  Everything's 
wrapped and under the tree.  There's a box arriving 
at your post office box in the next day or two.  Put it 
under your tree for -- you know who."

Scully sighed, her mother was still convinced 
someone was going to tap her phone.  But as the 
only other person besides Walter Skinner who knew 
Mulder's whereabouts, it paid for Maggie to be 
cautious.

"Thanks Mom.  I have something for you, too," she 
replied.  "Is that why you called?"

"No, sweetheart, it's not.  I just got off the phone 
with Bill and Tara.  They are going to be able to 
come home after all.  They're coming tomorrow."

Scully closed her eyes.  She loved her sister-in-law 
and nephew, but it had become a chore dealing with 
her brother.  Now that she was 'doing the right 
thing' in his eyes, he couldn't understand why she 
insisted on living in 'podunkville' and not closer to 
their mother.  "Oh, great," she answered with little 
enthusiasm.

"He's your brother, Dana and he means well.  
Maybe if he had more information on the situation -- "                

"I have no doubt at all what he would do with that 
information, Mom and there is no way I intend to 
let that happen," Scully retorted.  If Bill knew that 
Mulder was in fact living with her in rural Virginia, 
he would waste no time turning him over to the 
authorities.  For that matter, she was certain Bill 
would ask to be a witness at Mulder's execution.  
The thought made her shudder to her very toes.

"Well, I just thought it would be nice for you to 
come home a day early to spend some time with 
Tara and Matty," Maggie said casually.  "They miss 
you so and it's so seldom that they get out this way 
anymore now that Matty's in school."

Scully looked at the stairs to the bedroom where 
Mulder lay sleeping.  "Mom, I really only wanted to 
be gone for a day -- "

"I know, Dana, I know.  But Bill was so insistent.  
He thought you and he and Tara could go out to 
dinner tomorrow night, spend some time just being 
grown ups."

"What about you? Don't you want to go out to 
dinner with us?  We could all go out together on 
Christmas Eve."

Maggie laughed.  "Now, you know I have more fun 
with Matty than with you old stick in the muds.  I 
just got Zoo Tycoon for the Playstation and Matty 
has promised to teach me how to play.  You three 
used to have so much fun together when Tara and 
Bill would come home for leave.  You should spend 
some time reconnecting with your brother.  Besides, 
we have Aunt Mildred's open house on Christmas 
Eve -- if we missed that she would be crushed."

Scully sighed and rubbed the headache that had 
formed just above her eyebrows.  "OK, here's what I 
can do.  I'll come home tomorrow afternoon, then 
I'll leave right after breakfast on Christmas Day.  I 
want to be home to have dinner -- here.  You have 
to run interference with Bill, though.  I won't have 
him bullying me to stay later on Christmas."

"Don't worry, Dana.  I have that all thought out.  
We'll tell Bill you have to work a shift at the 
hospital.  He'll understand that, now that you're a 
'real doctor'."  Maggie made sure to lower her voice 
in a decent impression of her oldest son, just so her 
daughter would understand that she was making fun 
of him.

"Excellent plan, Mom.  OK.  I guess I'll see you 
tomorrow, then."

"Love you -- both," Maggie said in a whisper.

"Love you, too, Mom.  See you soon."  

She was in the kitchen, putting together a light 
supper when Mulder finally stumbled down the 
stairs, rumpled and flushed.  He pulled out a chair at 
the breakfast table and sat down heavily.

Without a word, she placed a cup of tea and a plate 
of sliced lemons in front of him.

"I'm not sick," he huffed, but it lost all effectiveness 
when he sneezed twice.

"Sure you're not," she agreed with a gentle smile.

"What are you making?" he asked, clearing his 
throat and not succeeding.

"Garlic chicken," she replied.

He nodded absently and sipped his tea.

"Um, I know I said I was going to Mom's on 
Christmas Eve, but apparently Bill and Tara are 
getting in tomorrow and Mom was hoping I could 
come up a day early."

"Go," he said, looking up at her.  "Go see your 
nephew.  He'll be a teenager soon enough and then 
he won't have anything to do with you for at least 8 
years."

She pulled a chair out next to him and felt his 
forehead.  "I don't like leaving you alone when 
you're sick," she told him.

"I'm not sick," he answered with a roll of his eyes.  
"It's a cold, Scully.  Besides, if you're at your mom's 
I won't be infecting you with my germs.  And by the 
time you get home, I'll be all better."

"Well, I won't be leaving until tomorrow, so I can 
take care of you till then."

"Around work," he countered.  ''You pulled an 'on 
call' shift tonight, remember?" 

She frowned.  "That's right, I forgot that.  I'll have 
to leave for Mom's from the hospital."

"Just go pack.  I'll be fine -- I'll even take that yucky 
stuff you gave me."

"Well, I'll call you tomorrow morning.  If you're 
any worse, I'll cancel my plans."


Dec. 23

The dawn was slow in coming, snow clouds hung 
heavy in the sky.  Scully had called to check on him 
at 8:00, before she left for Baltimore.  She promised 
to call him again later before she went to sleep, if 
she could get away with it around Bill.  Mulder 
wanted to pull the covers back over his head and 
just stay in bed.  But he had things to do.

The bottle of decongestant sat right next to the 
toothpaste -- where he couldn't possibly say he 
couldn't find it.  He glared at it as he brushed his 
teeth.  A couple of gray hairs he found in his beard 
where quickly dispatched to the garbage.  Before 
long, plucking out the gray would just be the 
equivalent of shaving, but until then he could pull 
them out and forget he'd found them in the first 
place.  When he ducked his head to wash his face 
the room spun and he had to sit down on the edge of 
the bathtub to get his bearings.   The dizziness 
passed and he just as easily forgot it ever happened.

The house was so quiet when Scully wasn't there.  
Usually she had the radio or CNN on somewhere.  
He might be living a hermit's life, but the outside 
world was never that far away.  He subscribed to at 
least a dozen newspapers and the internet had 
become his playground.  But it was when Scully 
was there that the house really seemed like 
something other than his personal Alcatraz.

Little did she know that he'd been escaping lately.  
When they first moved into the house, Scully had 
arranged for a post office box in the small town of 
Ashland, just three miles up the road.  Ashland 
didn't have much going for it other than a tiny post 
office with less than 200 mailboxes and a grain 
elevator.  The feed store had closed ten years earlier 
when the Walmart went in the larger town of 
Moseley just 15 miles away.  But Ashland still had 
a diner.

Pulling on a turtleneck, wool sweater and jeans -- 
his standard winter apparel -- and his parka, Mulder 
tied up the laces of his boots, grabbed the two 
carryalls he'd acquired from Landsend.com and 
headed off to pick up the mail. 

The sky was grey with clouds and the scent of snow 
was in the air, but he was dressed warmly and didn't 
really mind the walk.  It was pretty in summer, 
taking the two lane into Ashland, but the fall had 
been fantastic.  Now, he couldn't wait to see what a 
good snowfall would do to the route.  It wasn't a 
path he felt comfortable running, especially with 
packages, but it served to stretch his legs and give 
him a little sense of belonging to the outside world.  
In just under an hour he was hitting the main drag 
of the town.

The diner, or Betty's as it was known to the 
residents of Ashland, was situated on the corner of 
what had once been a thriving agricultural and 
business district.  The signs on the deserted 
storefronts stood silent testament to an America lost 
in the emergence of superhighways and big box 
stores.  Sullivan's garage with the fading green 
dinosaur symbol of the old Atlantic Richfield oil 
company was on the opposite corner.  A now 
boarded up Pride's Drug Store sat across the street.  
Even the public library was closed since the 
residents had transferred the holdings to the 
spanking new consolidated high school in Moseley.  
Only Betty's remained, hanging on by the skin of 
her teeth to the tiny dying town.

He'd never meant to go in to the restaurant.  For at 
least two months when they first moved to the area 
he would go into Ashland simply to pick up the 
mail.  Scully told him to make the trips 
infrequently, not to go at the same time of day when 
he did make the journey and to not talk to anyone!  
He felt like a five year old on his first trip to the 
corner grocery store after her lecture.  Still, the 
sword of Damocles hanging over his head wasn't all 
paranoia.  He really was under a death sentence and 
he had no desire to put himself or Scully through 
that.  

He relaxed a little the first time he'd gone into the 
tiny post office.  A quick check of the bulletin board 
revealed that the standard FBI's list of the 10 most 
wanted was 5 years old.  Better yet, he wasn't on it.  
Upon further inspection, he found the person in 
charge to be a sweet, slightly near-sighted older 
woman who loved to talk about the weather.

It was the postmistress who convinced him to go 
over to the diner.  She'd been pleasant each time 
he'd come in to gather his mail or picked up a large 
box.  The conversations where stilted at first, but 
with time Mulder had relaxed a little.  Finally Millie 
had asked if he liked pie and mentioned that Betty, 
who's real name was Rose, had just come by and 
had baked pies that morning.  It was late summer 
and the thought of fresh peach pie was more than 
Mulder could resist.  He'd been sneaking over to 
Betty's for a cup of coffee and a slice of pie every 
week since that day. 

When he made it to the post office that December 
morning, Millie had smiled at him and motioned 
him over to the window.  "You got some packages, 
George," she told him as she hoisted up three good-
sized boxes on the countertop.  "Santa's workin' 
overtime, you ask me."

"That he is, Millie," Mulder agreed.  "And he left a 
little something for you at my place."  He slid a 
jewel case back across the countertop at the gray 
haired woman.  

"Oh, you.  Now, what did you go and do?"

"Just a little something," he said with a shrug and a 
shy smile.  

Millie pulled open the jewel case and her eyes 
twinkled as she saw first the Starbucks gift card and 
then an unmarked CD.  "This isn't -- "

"Tito, yes it is.  One of his concerts down in 
Havana.  I found it on the web.  And that is very 
much a pirated copy so if you tell anybody, I'm a 
dead man," he said with a roguish wink.

"Oh, you!" she squealed.  "You didn't have to do 
that!"

"Hey, you're my mail carrier.  And it's Christmas, 
right?"

She rolled her eyes before smiling at him.  "Then, 
thank you.  That was very sweet of you."  Her 
expression clouded a moment.  "George -- you don't 
have a car.  How did you get a gift card?"

He bit his lip.  "I sent away for it," he admitted.  "It 
was in my mail last week.  So I guess you delivered 
your own present."  

Millie burst into peals of laughter and he soon 
joined her.  "Well," she said, finally calming, "you 
better get over to the diner and get your pie.  The 
whole crowd is over there -- Rose made pecan this 
morning and if you don't hurry you'll only get the 
crumbs."

"I might just -- " he started to say but was overcome 
by a vicious cough.  

Millie gave him a stern look.  "George -- you 
haven't been taking care of yourself, have you?"

"It's a little cold.  I'm watching it," he assured her.  

"Rose made a big batch of chicken and dumplings, 
too.  Might be just the ticket," Millie instructed.

"Sounds good.  I'm going to head over there right 
now."

"George," she called to him as he opened the door.  
When he turned back to her, she smiled, "thanks for 
the presents."

He smiled and waved but didn't speak to keep from 
coughing.  Maybe a cup of coffee and a piece of pie 
-- with a side order of chicken and dumplings -- 
would soothe his throat and warm him for the trip 
back home.

The chicken did the trick and he stayed for a second 
piece of pie.  When Mulder got up to leave, one 
look outside told him he was going to be late getting 
back to the house.  Snow had been falling steadily 
and it looked like the wind had picked up.

"Give ya a ride, George?" John, an over the road 
trucker who lived just a block from the diner 
offered.

"I couldn't take you out of your way, John.  I'll be 
fine," Mulder assured his friend, but a sneeze ripped 
out of him with enough force to water his eyes.  
John shot a look over to Rose, who was standing 
behind the cash register with her hands on her hips 
and a stern expression.  

"Take him home, John.  And here, take some more 
of these dumplin's with you," she said, quickly 
filling a styrofoam pint sized container with the 
golden elixir.  Mulder knew better than to fight a 
losing battle so he graciously accepted the warm 
container and followed John out to his Ford F-150 
for the promised ride home.


Baltimore, MD
6:45 pm

"Tara!  Dana!  Hurry up!  Our reservations are at 
7:15 and with this snow, traffic will be a bear," Bill 
yelled up the stairs to the second floor bedroom 
where Scully and Tara were getting ready for the 
evening.

Tara looked over at her sister-in-law and rolled her 
eyes.  "I guess we should be grateful he's in such a 
hurry.  Usually, I have to drag him out to a 
restaurant."

Scully smiled at Tara's reflection as she fastened an 
earring in her ear and touched up her lipstick.  "I 
don't understand why he's so excited about this.  
We've been out to dinner before, Tara.  Last time 
you were home, as a matter of fact."

"Darned if I know.  I'm not sure why we couldn't 
take Matty and Mom along, either.  But when I 
suggested it during the flight he got all fussy on me.  
Said it was better this way, Mom wanted time with 
Matty.  He came up with all kinds of excuses.  I 
don't know, Dana.  If I didn't know better, I'd say 
he's going through male menopause!"

That got a chuckle out of the former g-woman.  
"Tara, Bill is only in his 40s."

"Late 40's -- and believe me, he has all the signs.  I 
keep expecting him to break out in hot flashes any 
day now."

Finished with their 'primping', the two women made 
their way down the stairs.  Maggie was at the 
bottom of the steps and smiled up at them.  "Don't 
you both look pretty!" she exclaimed.  "You're one 
lucky man tonight, William Scully, Jr."

"Don't I know it, Mom," he said, giving her a kiss 
on the cheek.  "Matthew, you be good for 
Grandma," he warned.

"I will be, Dad.  Mom, Aunt Dana, you guys look 
great!"

"Well thank you, Matty," Scully said as Tara ruffled 
her son's hair.

"We won't be late," Tara said to Maggie as Bill 
helped her with her coat.

"We might be," Bill corrected.  "Don't wait up, 
Mom.  I have my key."

Scully shot him a look and then one over to Tara, 
but Tara looked clueless and shrugged at her.  Bill 
revealed nothing.

Despite the traffic, they arrived at the restaurant 
with minutes to spare.  Bill pulled his mother's car 
into a parking space not too far from the entrance 
and helped his wife and sister out onto the slick and 
snow-covered lot.  

"A steakhouse, Bill?  I thought we were going for 
seafood," Tara frowned.

"They have seafood.  They also have steaks.  Best 
of both worlds," he replied.

The entryway was filled with other patrons waiting 
for tables, but Bill made it to the check-in desk and 
gave their names.  A waiter seated them promptly.  
As they were settling in, Bill kept craning his neck 
to see the front door.  Finally, Tara put her hand on 
his arm to get his attention, but he ignored her and 
rose to his feet, waving at someone.

"Tom!  Over here," he smiled broadly.  Tara shot 
Scully a confused glance.  Scully took in the table, 
set with four settings and the waiting bottle of wine 
and felt something sour take up residence in her 
stomach.  Her brother had arranged a surprise blind 
date for her and came along to watch the fun.  

"Bill, what's going on," Tara hissed at him as a tall 
blond man with sun-tanned features and sporting a 
Navy issue Pea-coat joined them at the table.

"Lt. Commander Thomas Duffy, USN, this is my 
sister, Dana Scully, MD.  Tom, you remember my 
wife Tara," Bill said by way of introductions.

"Hi Tom.  Long time," Tara said, casting sheepish 
looks over toward her sister-in-law.

"Tara, nice to see you again.  And Dana.  This is a 
pleasure.  Your brother has told me a lot about 
you," Tom said, giving her a thorough once over 
and smiling at what he saw.

"Nice to meet you Commander," Scully said 
formerly and when she could, glared at her brother.

"Please, fortunately, we're not on ship.  It's just 
'Tom' tonight," he said with a smile that Scully was 
sure was meant to charm her socks off.  She smiled 
wanly at him.

They were all quiet for a few moments, 
uncomfortably so until Tara broke the silence.  "So, 
Tom, I thought you were in the Pacific.  Weren't 
you at Pearl, last we heard?"

"Yeah, that was a pretty sweet deal, but the higher 
ups decided they needed me back stateside.  I'm 
assigned to the Naval Liaison to the Joint Chiefs 
now."

Scully whistled softly.  "Then you're at the 
Pentagon," she said.  "That must be very . . . 
interesting."

"The most interesting part about the Pentagon is 
figuring out where your car is every night.  Five 
sided buildings don't make for the most convenient 
parking."

Bill grinned.  "Well, if you don't see water between 
you and the Washington Monument -- "

"You walked too far," Tom finished the old joke 
with his friend.  Scully smiled politely and Tara 
took a big drink of her wine.  It was shaping up to 
be a very long evening.

They had finished their steaks and Bill poured the 
last of the wine into their glasses.  "Say, you know 
what?  We should go dancing," Bill suggested, all 
smiles.

Scully opened her mouth to object but Tom put his 
hand over her's and smiled at her brother.  "That's a 
great idea.  Isn't there a club just a couple of blocks 
from here?"

"I don't know.  Dana, didn't you say you had to 
work all night last night?" Tara interrupted.  She'd 
obviously caught her sister-in-law's discomfort 
through the evening's small talk and wasn't about to 
help her husband in his match-making escapade.

"Yeah, yeah I did.  I hate to admit it, but I'm a little 
bushed."

"Ah, c'mon, Dana!  It's only 9 o'clock.  We'll have 
you home by midnight.  Besides, you can sleep in 
tomorrow.   It'll be fun, just the four of us," he 
cajoled.

"Please, Dana.  I've been in town for almost three 
months and this is the first nice evening I've had," 
Tom pleaded.  "I just hate to call it a night already."

She bit the inside of her cheek and forced a smile.  
"Well, I haven't been dancing in a long time," she 
said.

"Not to worry.  I won't step on your toes -- I 
promise," Tom said, again with the supposedly 
charming smile.


Scully-Mulder residence
10:45 pm

Mulder sneezed three times in quick succession and 
reached for the bottle of decongestant, forcing down 
a big swallow without benefit of a measuring spoon.  
The house was freezing and he shivered as he 
walked back into the bedroom.  He'd cranked up the 
heat once already, but the wind was coming through 
the cracks around the windowsills.  Checking the 
bedside clock, he shivered again and crawled under 
the covers, taking his cell phone with him.  His head 
was pounding, his sore throat was completely 
engulfed in fire and every bone in his body ached.  
But Scully had said she was going to call before she 
went to sleep and he would have to convince her he 
was right as rain when he answered the phone or 
she'd be on her way back home in a blizzard.

He had just dozed off when the phone trilled beside 
him.  Fumbling to find it in the bedcovers, he hit the 
send button and tried to say hello, but nothing came 
out.

"Mulder?" he heard as he lifted the device to his 
ear.

"Scully," he rasped, wincing at the crackling sound 
of his voice.  He had to strain to hear her over the 
loud music in the background.

"Mulder, are you OK?  You sound worse," she 
accused.

"No, I was . . . I was asleep," he forced a swallow, 
instantly regretting it because of the flare of pain, 
but when he tried again, he sounded normal -- at 
least to his own ears.  "Sorry.  Uh, did your mom 
invite a marching band over?"

"What?  Oh, no.  I'm at a nightclub.  Bill -- I'm 
going to kill my brother.  Anyway, I looked at my 
watch and realized how late it was so I snuck out to 
the restrooms to call."

"Nightclub, huh.  What'd he do, set you up with a 
date?" Mulder asked flippantly.  Secretly, it was his 
own secret nightmare -- the one he never shared 
with Scully.  Someday she would meet someone, 
someone who could show his face in public, 
someone who didn't have a price on his head -- 

"Bill's an ass.  I'll fill you in later.  Seriously, how's 
the cold?  Are you taking the medicine?"

"Yes, mother.  I just took my nighttime dose," he 
growled.

"Have you checked your fever?"

"Scully, can we skip this part and get to the part 
where you ask me what I'm wearing and I say 
'nothing'?"

"I'm just worried about you," she sighed.

"So, what's his name?" Mulder countered.  "This 
reason you're having homicidal thoughts about your 
older brother."

"Tom.  Tom Duffy.  Lt Commander, attached to the 
Joint Chiefs."

Mulder whistled appreciably.  "Wow.  Some catch.  
Maybe I'll date him."

"You wish," Scully shot back.  "Besides, he's very -
- "

"Ugly.  Boring.  Has a hunch back?"

"I was going to say 'sure of himself'," she replied 
dryly.

"Oh, and you love that in a guy," Mulder shot back.

"I don't mind it at all, if there's something to be sure 
of," she responded.

"Was that arrow directed at me?" he snickered.

"On occasion," she said haughtily.  "But in you, it's 
endearing," she added with a tenderness that made 
him feel just a little bit less like curling up and 
dying.

"Well, you better get back to the festivities," he 
said, clearing his throat again and immediately 
regretting it.

"Are you sure you aren't feeling worse?  I can -- "

"Scully, it's Christmas.  You'll be home day after 
tomorrow.  We'll celebrate, just the two of us.  I'll 
be wearing the mistletoe."

She chuckled at that.  "OK, you win.  I'll call you 
tomorrow -- I don't know when."

"Hey, don't worry about it.  Just have fun and try 
not to get Bill's blood on the new sweater you got 
for your mom."

"I'll do my best.  I love you."

"Love you too.  See you Christmas afternoon."  He 
waited until he heard her disconnect before hitting 
the end button.  Tom Duffy.  A good Irish lad, 
Mulder was certain.  He could almost see Bill 
sitting at his desk, going through Personnel records 
until he found the perfect specimen to present to his 
sister.  Mulder really couldn't blame Bill, even if it 
did make him want to throw up.  Bill was just trying 
to look out for his sister.  His apparently unattached, 
single sister with a good job.

Scully pocketed her phone and turned to go back to 
the bar when she ran headlong into Tara.  Her 
sister-in-law was leaning against the wall not three 
feet from where she'd been for the last fifteen 
minutes.

"That sounded interesting," Tara commented mildly 
with a mischievous grin.

Scully tried to swallow, only to discover her body 
was completely devoid of all moisture.  "Tara.  It's 
not . . . that's not . . . I mean, it's . . . "

Tara shook her head, rolled her eyes and smirked.  
"You little minx.  You let your big brother think 
you're all by yourself up there, playing the nun, 
when you've got someone!  Why didn't you say 
something?  Heck, why didn't you bring him along 
to meet everyone?"

Her heart was pounding and her ears were ringing.  
Scully was sure she was going to pass out.  She 
drew in a deep breath.  "Tara, it's . . . complicated."

Her sister-in-law's eyes grew wide and she looked 
horrified.  "Oh, God, Dana.  He's not -- oh, please 
tell me he's not married!  Bill told me about that one 
doctor you, well, dated, in medical school -- "

"No," Scully all but shouted, relieved to be able to 
tell the truth at least that much.  "No, he is definitely 
not married.  But -- well, we're just not ready to go 
public, yet."

Tara appeared appeased, somewhat.  "OK," she said 
with a shrug.  "But you could at least tell us 
something about him."

"He's . . . he's an only child.  He's really not used to 
big families.  He hates crowds," Scully said, again 
congratulating herself on relying on mostly the 
facts.  "And he tends to be a workaholic.  Almost a 
recluse in that respect."

"Is he a doctor?" Tara asked, frowning.

"He's a . . . researcher," Scully answered after some 
thought.  It wasn't a complete fabrication -- Mulder 
was doing research.  Not medical research by any 
stretch, but research into the continuing threat of 
colonization.  "He does a lot of work out of his 
home."

"So how did you meet?" Tara asked, but before 
Scully could answer, her brother walked up with a 
scowl on his face.  

"Hey you two.  We thought you fell in!  What's 
going on?  C'mon, the night is young.  We just 
found a table and Tom is holding it for us."

"Bill, I think Dana is ready to go home," Tara said, 
crossing her arms.

"No.  C'mon, Dana -- you used to love to dance.  
What gives?"

"She has a headache and wants to go.  Now," Tara 
insisted.

Bill looked over at his sister, eyeing her for possible 
physical signs of this alleged ailment.  Scully did 
her best to appear in pain -- not a hard trick after her 
conversation with Tara.  "Ah, hell.  I guess we can 
go," Bill finally relented.

They made their way back to the table where Tara 
again intervened to tell Tom that they were really 
tired and had to get up and finish Christmas 
wrapping in the morning.  Tom walked with them to 
the door and helped Scully into her coat -- brushing 
against her shoulder a time to two in the process.  
"It was very nice to make your acquaintance," he 
whispered to her as he buttoned the top button.

"Yes, it was nice to meet you, too," Scully said, not 
meeting his intense gaze.   

Tara stepped up and took her sister-in-law's elbow.  
"Well, it's been nice to see you again, Tom.  Hope 
you have a good Christmas.  Gotta run."  The two 
women were out the door before either Tom or Bill 
could step forward.

Scully couldn't help but chuckle at her sister-in-
law's behavior.  "Tara, slow down.  Bill has the car 
keys," she grinned.  Then, a thought crossed her 
mind and she reached out a hand to stall Tara.  
"What are you going to tell Bill?"

"Bill tends to want all the answers all the time.  I've 
discovered the secret to a happy marriage, Dana."

"And that is?" Scully asked, somewhat fearful.

"I just don't tell him everything -- right away.  
When you're ready to 'go public' with this guy, you 
let me know.  I'll let Bill in on it, like it's just been 
printed news.  He'll never know that I knew for 
ages.  That work for you?"

"Beautifully," Scully sighed in relief.  "I owe you -- 
big time."

"Oh, I intend to collect," Tara assured her.  "I have a 
roomful of toys that need wrapping tomorrow."

"I'm all yours," Scully promised.
     

Dec. 24

The cough woke him up.  Actually, Mulder had 
been coughing all night but somewhere around 4 in 
the morning, he'd finally drifted off into real sleep, 
only to be awakened again around 7.  When he 
could finally catch a feeble breath, he looked over at 
the empty space in the bed and fell back against the 
pillows, remembering.  Scully was in Baltimore -- 
dancing with some jerk named Tom.

Yeah.  That made sense.  Why shouldn't she go 
dancing?  Why shouldn't she go dancing with some 
Lt. Commander in the Navy attached to the Joint 
Chiefs?  She was a free woman, a doctor gaining a 
modicum of respect in her field of pediatric 
neurology.  She was gorgeous, as she'd always 
been, but with a grace and wisdom that only age 
could bestow.  

He knew, from their dinner conversations, that most 
of the good doctors at Our Lady of Sorrow were 
married with children.  Of the few that weren't, she 
was positive there were at least two of the 'don't 
ask/don't tell' orientation among the males and a 
few others among the females.  And then there were 
the rest -- or rather, the one.  

Dr. Michael Powell, a fellow resident but in 
gerontology, was, in Scully's words, perfect Bureau.  
He was clean cut, wore nice suits to work, drove the 
newest BMW sportster -- always bright apple red -- 
and was every little old lady's dream date.  And he 
had eyes for Scully.  

The hard part was that Scully needed the very 
eligible Dr. Powell to have eyes for her.  Not that 
she wanted the attention -- she didn't, or at least 
she'd told Mulder that a thousand times.  But if she 
were to maintain her status as a 'single, available 
woman' in that small gossip factory that was a 
hospital, she had to at least seem interested in the 
male of the species.  Otherwise, she joined the ranks 
of the DADT contingent and she'd seen the kinds of 
slights -- personal as well as professional -- they 
received among staff and administration alike.  
Worse, people would wonder why she lived all 
alone out in the middle of nowhere.  What was she 
hiding out there in the woods?  She -- 'they', she 
assured him -- couldn't afford to stand out or be 
seen as different.

So, on the occasional Tuesday, Scully ate lunch in 
the cafeteria with 'Doctor J. Edgar, Jr.', as she called 
him.  It was basically a recon mission, she'd told 
Mulder once.  The handsome doctor knew all of the 
best gossip in the hospital.  He also took it as his 
personal assignment to squelch any rumors that 
began circulating with her in a starring role.  It was 
necessary.  It was nothing more than lunch.

It drove Mulder crazy.  But Scully had a way of 
making him forget, usually by inviting him to join 
her in their very deep, very old claw foot bathtub 
for some soaking and romancing.  By the time they 
crawled into bed, relaxed, sated and wrinkled clean, 
he forgot his own name, not to mention Dr. Powell.

Right at that moment, at 7 am on Christmas Eve, 
Mulder wanted Scully to come home and make him 
forget he'd ever heard of Lt. Commander Thomas 
Duffy.  Better yet, he wanted her to come home so 
he could make _her_ forget about Duffy, Powell 
and any other man who so much as glanced her 
way.  But his lungs and chest conspired against him 
and he curled in on himself coughing.  Oh, yeah.  
He was a catch, all right.  A real find.  When he 
stopped coughing, he glanced outside at the snow 
still falling and promptly pulled the comforter over 
his head.  He wasn't coming out until he died of this 
cold, or Scully got home -- whichever came first.


Maggie Scully residence
Baltimore, MD
9:45 am

Scully pocketed her cell phone with a frown.  She'd 
just tried to call Mulder again and had no answer.  
When she'd first called at 9 she assumed he was in 
the shower.  When she tried again at 9:30, she 
thought he might have left the phone upstairs when 
he went down to make his breakfast.  Now she was 
starting to get worried.

Tara entered the bedroom with a triumphant grin, 
holding a roll of Scotch tape like a trophy.  "Your 
mom had more tape down in the kitchen.  Christmas 
is saved!" she announced with glee.  Then she got a 
good look at her sister-in-law's face, just before 
Scully pasted on a forced smile.  "What's the 
matter?  Did one of the boxes get crushed in 
shipping?"

"No, no," Scully assured her.  "Everything's fine.  
That was a smart move, having Amazon deliver 
everything here for Christmas.  But how are you 
getting all this back home to San Diego?"

"I brought an extra suitcase.  It's pretty much empty.  
What we can't fit in that, we'll mail back.  I figured I 
would have to mail stuff either way and this way 
just means I only have to spend half as much.  So, 
did you get through?"

Scully had gone back to wrapping what appeared to 
be an entire Lego city.  She looked up at Tara's 
question.  "Hmm?" she asked.

"Did you get through?  On the phone?  Your 
'mystery' guy."

Biting her bottom lip, and then realizing that was 
probably worse than actually answering, Scully 
shook her head.  "Um, no.  No I didn't.  Do you 
want curling ribbon on this one?" she directed the 
conversation to the package before her, now 
wrapped in paper covered with dancing reindeer.

"No, don't bother.  It just frustrates Bill when he 
can't get the paper off quickly," Tara replied.  "So 
was he out or do you think he's still asleep?"

Scully had started on another package and tried to 
appear too engrossed to answer, but in fact her heart 
was pounding.  She really didn't want to discuss this 
with Tara, or anyone else in the house.  "No 
telling," she said, trying desperately to sound 
casual.  "I didn't know Matty was into video games 
this early."

"Are you kidding?  They start those things in the 
womb!" Tara laughed.  "So, Maggie mentioned 
there is a 7 o'clock children's Mass.  I know it's not 
the usual Scully tradition of Midnight Mass, but it 
would sure go a long way to making a happier day 
tomorrow if we could get Matt down before 10 
pm."

"Oh, sure, anything's fine with me," Scully said 
absently, staring at the sheet of "To" and "From" 
tags before her like they contained the great 
mysteries of the world.

"And I hear Kermit the Frog will be the cantor.  Of 
course, that means Miss Piggy's the choir director, 
but with the kids, it's all good, right?" Tara said, 
struggling not to smirk at Scully's far away 
expression.

"Yeah, all good," Scully said, finally picking a 
small tag and writing Matthew's name on it before 
attaching it to the wrapped Lego's.

"Dana," Tara said, putting her hand on Scully's arm.  
"Stop."

"What?  Oh, is this a 'Santa' present?  That means 
it's not wrapped, right?" Scully stumbled.  If the 
truth be told, she was on the verge of tears.

"No, it's not the package.  It's you.  Talk to me, 
Dana.  Please.  What has you so in knots?"  Then, 
Tara leaned back, glanced quickly toward the door 
to ensure that no one was in the hall.  "Your 
mystery man is Fox, isn't he?" she whispered.

"Tara, please, I . . . I can't . . ."

"Dana, I know you can't or won't tell me.  You don't 
have to.  Fox Mulder is the only man I've ever seen 
who can tear you up so much but at the same time 
gives you that glow.  I saw that glow when you 
were talking to him last night.  Now, do you think 
he's in danger?"

Scully sighed, realizing any denial on her part 
would only be seen as further proving Tara right.  
"No, he's not in danger, exactly.  We're safe, we're 
in the middle of the backwoods -- no one around for 
miles.  But he had a cold before I left for work the 
other night and last night on the phone he sounded 
worse.  Now I can't get hold of him -- "

"He's sick.  Maggie's always said you had a sixth 
sense when it came to him -- when he was sick or 
needed you."

"Mom said that?" Scully gasped.  "How could she 
possibly -- "

Tara rolled her eyes.  "Dana, she's your mother.  
She knows you like the back of her hand.  Even 
when you do your darnedest to keep every detail of 
your life a secret.  Where in the world do you think 
you got your investigative skills?  You didn't lick 
them off the grass, you know," she added with a 
smirk.  "That woman is good, no ifs, ands or buts.  
But that's totally beside the point.  You, my dear, 
need to go home."

"No," Scully said flatly.  "Bill would never 
understand."

"Dana," Tara countered with a knowing smile, "you 
tell Bill you have an emergency at the hospital.  He 
would never understand you ditching us for Fox, 
but ditching us to go off and 'be a doctor' as he 
constantly reminds me -- that's the perfect cover!"

"I would be ditching you, too, Tara.  I really did 
want to spend Christmas with my family."

"But wouldn't you rather spend Christmas with 
_all_ your family?  Dana, I'm not saying jump up 
and run out this minute.  I'm saying stick it out for 
lunch and maybe a little of the afternoon -- we'll 
build a snowman with Matt out in the backyard, 
bake some cookies, the usual stuff.  Then, you get a 
phone call and oh, dear, you have to get back to 
your job as a life saving doctor.  What is there to 
do??" she faked a swoon complete with the back of 
her hand to her forehead.

Scully chuckled through teary eyes.  "You know, 
there are times that you remind me so much of 
Melissa," she said, then quickly amended.  "I mean, 
well, not that you're like Melissa -- "

Tara took her hands.  "Hey, I consider that high 
praise.  I loved Missy.  She was a free spirit, yes, 
but she was a very kind and giving soul.  It means a 
lot that you think I'm like her in any way."  She let 
go of Scully's hands long enough to put her arms 
around her.  "Now, let's get these last few wrapped, 
and go have some family time here.  Then you can 
go home.  You'll probably find out that he dropped 
the phone in the toilet or something equally silly, 
but at least you'll be together on Christmas Eve."


Mulder and Scully's bedroom
11:21 am

He was shivering, but the covers were too cloying 
so he kicked them off.  The fire in his throat 
threatened to burn through to the pillow and he'd 
given up swallowing some hours ago.  All he 
wanted to do was crawl into a hole and -- nope, 
been there, done that, still had the night terrors, 
even though he couldn't remember one nanosecond 
of being in that coffin.

He faded out for a moment but when his vision 
cleared he wasn't in bed anymore.  He was in a 
field, a hilly field, dotted with bright yellow 
flowers.  The sun was high in the sky and a warm 
breeze caught the hair on the back of his neck.  He 
turned his face to the wind and that's when he saw 
her.  Scully.  She was radiant in a beautiful white 
dress of some fluttering material that he liked but 
couldn't name.  She was running toward him and he 
held out his arms, but as she drew closer he could 
see that she wasn't looking at him.  She was looking 
past him and to the right.  He turned, wondering 
what she was looking at and saw a man in a Naval 
uniform, the brim of his cap hiding his face in 
shadows.  As Mulder watched, Scully ran right past 
him and into the other man's arms.  Mulder dropped 
to the ground, curled in on himself and sobbed.


Scully and Mulder's house
Dec. 24
6:15 pm

The day had been everything she'd hoped for with 
her family.  She and Tara, with some assistance 
from Bill and little Matty, had baked dozens of 
sugar cookies while Maggie had made a large batch 
of her famous gingersnaps.  They'd had a wonderful 
lunch of baked potato soup and sandwiches, 
followed by an hour long snowman building and 
snow ball throwing event in the backyard.  At 
precisely three p.m. Tara had gone into the house on 
the pretense of starting the hot cocoa and just five 
minutes later, Scully received the 'call from the 
hospital' on her cell phone.  

Predictably, Bill had tried to pressure her to stay.  
He eventually backed off when Tara pointed out 
that if it were Matthew in the hospital, needing his 
sister's care, he wouldn't want her holiday plans to 
stop her from coming back.  As she packed up her 
things, Maggie had given her a cookie tin filled with 
goodies and a quick 'give Fox my love' whispered in 
her ear.

The sun had set over an hour ago, so she expected 
lights on in the house.  It was dark.  Dark and far 
too quiet.  Her heart pounded in her chest as she got 
out to unlock the gate.  She looked to see if there 
were any tire tracks in the snow, any indication that 
she might be too late.  Her mind was whirlwind of 
accusations:  they came while she was gone, took 
him while her back was turned.  She hadn't spoken 
to him in 20 some hours, that was unheard of 
between them since they'd come to Virginia.  

The snow was deep in the drive and kicked up a 
small blizzard behind her car as she struggled 
through to the house.  She didn't bother trying to 
back the car around so that she could get out in the 
morning.  All she could think of was that she'd find 
the house empty -- no explanation, no word.

The key wouldn't go in the lock of the door, but 
finally she wrestled it open and hurried in, calling 
his name.  "Mulder!  Mulder, are you here?"  The 
cough that came in response to her shout allowed 
relief to wash over her.  It was followed almost 
immediately by guilt.

She took the stairs to their bedroom two at a time 
and hit the doorjamb to their room with her hip, 
hard enough to leave a bruise.  At first she couldn't 
see him in the dark room.  It looked like the bed 
was unmade, a jumble of comforter in the center.  
But as she took another step, the cough erupted 
from the center of the jumble and she knew she'd 
found him.

"Ah, Mulder," she sighed.

He rolled over and opened one swollen eye to a 
mere slit.  "Scully," he rasped out, barely loud 
enough to be heard.  He started to sit up, but 
coughed harshly and fell back against the pillow.

"Mulder, you _are_ sick," she accused, putting her 
hand on his forehead and wincing at the heat.  
"Have you taken anything?"

"what are you doing here?" he growled, closing his 
eyes.  

"I came home.  I couldn't get hold of you all day."  
She looked around the nightstand and then on the 
floor, finally finding his cell phone under the bed.  
It was turned to vibrate.  No wonder he hadn't 
answered her calls.  "Mulder, why is your phone on 
vibrate?"

"dunno," he said, struggling again to sit up and 
finally succeeding.  "did you come home to pack?"

She eyed him for a moment, saw the glassy stare he 
was turning on her and smiled.  "Where am I 
supposed to be going?" she asked, not bothering to 
hide her amusement.

"your honeymoon, I guess -- with Admiral Tom," 
he sighed, rubbing his eyes.  She waited a minute, 
just watching him.  She could tell exactly what 
moment he 'woke up'.  "That was a dream, wasn't 
it?"

"Why do you always dream I'm going to run off 
with some guy, Mulder?  But it does prove to me 
that you really are sick.  I'm glad I came home 
early."

"Early?"  He squinted to peer out at the darkness 
beyond their bedroom window.  "What time is it?  
Is it Christmas already?"

"No, Ebenezer, once again you didn't sleep through 
Christmas.  It's still Christmas Eve," she teased him 
lightly.  "Now that you're lucid, I'm going 
downstairs to make you some soup and maybe a 
grilled cheese sandwich, that I'm bringing back 
upstairs so I can watch you eat every bite.  After 
that, I'm pouring a dose of nighttime cold medicine 
down your throat, rubbing a half a jar of Vick's on 
your chest and tucking you in.  Hopefully you'll be 
feeling a little bit better tomorrow and we can enjoy 
Christmas together."


Christmas morning
9:30 am

Mulder could hear her on the phone as he padded 
down the stairs barefoot.  He'd woken up a couple 
of times in the night, coughing, to find her hovering 
over him, stroking his head, rubbing his chest.  He'd 
fallen asleep again immediately, just her presence 
helping ease the ache in his throat and head.  When 
he'd opened his eyes the last time, her side of the 
bed was empty and his bladder was full so he 
decided it was time to get up and greet the day.

"OK, put Bill on," he heard her say.  She was 
standing in the kitchen and he could smell bacon 
frying even through his stuffy nose.  He smiled and 
leaned against the wall, eavesdropping on her 
conversation with her brother.

"Merry Christmas to you! . . . No, I haven't had a 
chance to open them yet.  I went straight to the 
hospital. . . . Stable, for now, but I want to stay 
close, keep an eye on him. . . . Yes, yes, he's a 
special little guy. . . . Well, you guys have a great 
Christmas.  Have an extra slice of ham for me, OK? 
. . . No. . . . No, Bill, really.  He's a nice guy, but I 
just don't have room in my life right now to get 
involved with anyone.  Yes. . . . I'll take that under 
advisement.  Hey, is that Tara?  Let me talk to her.  
Love you, too, Big Brother.  Tara?  Thank god!  
Could you please . . . yes, that would be wonderful.  
I really appreciate it.  I was right, he was sick, half 
out of his head with a fever.  He was asleep when I 
got up a little bit ago.  I'm making his favorite 
breakfast, so I'll wake him up in a minute."

He decided it was safe for him to make an 
appearance.  "I'm up," he rasped, frowning at the 
frog-like quality of his voice.

"Yeah, I gotta go.  Love you and hugs to Matty.  
Merry Christmas, Tara."  She laughed then and 
smiled over at Mulder.  "Yes, I'll give my mystery 
man a hug for you.  Bye."  She walked over to him 
and folded him into her arms.  "That's from Tara," 
she said, stepping back to the stove to check 
something in the oven -- cinnamon rolls, he saw 
from ten feet away.

"Tara.  Married to Bill.  She knows about me?  
Scully -- " he started to object but was brought up 
short by a sneeze and more coughing.  "Scully," he 
sputtered again when he could catch a breath.

"Mulder, sit down, before you fall down.  And here, 
drink this."  She handed him a cup of coffee and 
after a few minutes, he was feeling a little better.  

She went back to the stove, putting bacon, eggs 
over easy and the coveted cinnamon rolls on two 
plates that she brought to the table.  His stomach 
growled loudly and he gave her a sheepish grin 
before picking up fork and knife and making short 
work of all her early morning efforts.  When he was 
finished, he pushed back in his chair and started 
again.

"Scully, why in the world would you tell -- "

She stopped him with a look.  "First of all, I didn't 
'tell' Tara.  She already knew.  Apparently my 
sister-in-law and my mother share some sort of 
extra sensory perception where you are involved."  
He shot her a raised eyebrow and she only shrugged 
back.  "Second, she has no intention of telling Bill 
now or ever, if need be.  She understands the 
situation better than you think.  And third, she's got 
a cover story all ready, just in case he makes any 
leaps of intuition on his own -- which I strongly 
doubt."

"Cover story?" he asked, sipping his coffee.

"I've met a researcher, a loner, who doesn't like 
crowds or family gatherings."

"That does sort of describe me," he countered.  

"But without names, you could be anybody.  And 
we only need to deploy that deception if he tries any 
more 'blind dates' in the future.  So, no worries."

He reached across the table and covered her hand 
with his.  "I'm sorry you had to come home early 
and miss Christmas roll call," he told her solemnly.

She grinned back at him.  "Mulder, since going 
back to work, the appeal of sleeping in until 9 far 
outweighed the anguish of missing out on the 6 am 
Christmas roll call.  Besides, I'm where I want to be 
this morning.  With you."  She got up to take their 
plates to the sink, but not before dropping a kiss on 
his forehead.  "C'mon.  It's time for our Christmas 
roll call.  Meet me under the tree."

"I know what I want to give you for Christmas, 
Scully, but you might not like it," he said, following 
her into the living room and their tree -- a spruce 
he'd chopped down with his own two hands.

"I'd like anything you gave me, Mulder," she 
assured him.

He pulled her into a hug and kissed her just on the 
side of her cheek.  "Not if I give you my cold," he 
answered.

"Well, I do have some sick time saved up.  You'd 
just have to wait on me hand and foot."

He leered at her, as best he could with his teary eyes 
and running nose.  "Sounds like a perfect way to 
ring in the New Year."

the end.