Shades of Similarity

by Cheryl De Luca
Disclaimer:  These characters are not mine, and I thank Chris Carter for
allowing me to take them out and play with them for a while.
Category:  Doggett / Scully Fic. Doggy POV

Feedback:  Please.  Emiliod@sympatico.ca
Spoilers:  Through TINH, with some minor forshadowing for Dead Alive.
Summary: Scully is thrown into a situation where she is forced to come to
Doggett for help.

    It has been a week or so since she requested desk duty, though I had
suggested it to her many times prior to that. It's not that I felt any less
safe in her hands, to the contrary I trusted her as a partner should, wholly
and completely. It is just that my experience with children - my own child
in particular - has taught me the preciousness of life and the last thing I
would want would be to have something happen to the baby she is carrying. It
is getting close to her due date, and the buzz here at the bureau is rife
with commentary and speculation. She carries it well for someone her size,
yet around about the sixth month she bloomed like a beautiful rose, and the
fact that she was indeed pregnant became very much an issue. It is also 4
months post Mulder. Though the sadness and grief she wears about her makes
it seem like only yesterday. My wife Brigette was ecstatic when she found
out about her pregnancy, she experienced the greatest pleasure in shopping
for baby clothes and indulging in all of those
wonderful things that every expectant mother enjoys.

I wish it were the same for her. I was hoping that at some point she would
move past her hurt and embrace the gift she has been given. But it seems she
hasn't been able to. And that is my biggest fear. I know what it is like to
hurt and feel alone. After my son was murdered I watched the light slowly
fade from my wife's eyes until one day she could no longer take it and
decided to join him in his fate. This is something that has haunted me every
night for the last 4 years. I still see her body as they wheeled across the
morgue floor for identification. If only I had anticipated it... But at the
time, I too was in a very dark place, alone, afraid, and hurting.
"Agent Scully?" She looks up at me, no response, but there is a question in
her eyes. "I bought somethin' the other day...." Truthfully I bought it a
month ago and it has taken me this long to get up enough nerve to give it to
her.

She stares at me, her curiosity peaked, but still no words. I am totally at
a loss but I need to hear her talk to me. I also need to share. I reach into
my desk and into the bag I had snuck in this morning. It's not much, but I
know that with this I have stepped way over my bounds. Yet, I couldn't help
myself.

I rise from my chair and bring the nondescript bag over to her. It gives no
hint of what is inside and for this I am grateful. I know she hasn't shopped
for her baby, because despite orders to do the opposite, she has spent every
waking minute in this office, including weekends. I hope that this will
help. Perhaps jump start something in her that will make her want to live
again, perhaps help her gain some pleasure from what is supposed to be a
happy time in a woman's life..

She takes it from me tentatively and stares at me for a moment before
peeking inside. A tuft of tissue paper comes out along with the mobile that
I picked up.

"Uh..." I'm at a loss for words so I say to her the only thing that can
explain my actions. "My son.. Luke.. He had one when he was a baby, saved my
wife's sanity a few times." I back away trying to ignore the tears as they
begin to fall. I know she doesn't want me to acknowledge them, she never
has. She seems to be very good at denial. Once again something I recognize
from my own past experience.

Things are silent again and I am back at my desk before she turns to me.
"You have a son?" Her tears are gone wiped away hastily in an effort to
forget.

"Had" It is my turn to look away. This is something we have never talked
about and I'm not sure that this is a conversation that I want to have. I
rarely discuss Luke, though I hold my memories of him close to my heart and
I ache for him everyday. Her brow furrows, and she is silent a moment before
the next words fall from her mouth. "What happened?"

I stand up grabbing a few files from my desk and head over to the file
cabinet. I feel my own tears well up. It was my fault. To this day I can
accept no other explanation. My hands begin to shake as though it were
merely a recent memory rather than something from another lifetime. Almost
unconsciously the words roll of my mouth. "Work followed me home.." I turn
around but avert my eyes from her own questioning gaze. I'm afraid to look
at her. I know that right now look in my eyes is the same haunted one that
she has been wearing for the past five months.

Silence reigns for a moment. I know she is waiting for more of an
explanation and not for the first time since I started this conversation, do
I wish that I hadn't. It was meant to be her opening up, not me. My wounds
lie fresh on the surface the scabs still tacky, as do hers. Yet, she has
something to live for, the important part of my life is gone. I'm just
killing time here, probably because I am too much of a coward to do what my
wife did. Or perhaps for the same reason that I have been telling myself all
these years. I want to make a difference.

Something inside of me resigns itself to the retelling of this tale, so I
drop the files on top of the cabinet and grab a my chair moving it only a
few short feet from her. My first instinct is to touch her. I want to take
her hand, as much for my own comfort as for my need to make contact with her
to share with her, what I am feeling. Instead I rub my trembling hands on my
pants and look her straight in the eye. I don't care if she sees the tears
now. This is a time for honesty. "I was workin' the periphery on a pedophile
case. Not quite as Dalmeresque or sensational as a lot of the cases we get.
But it was grim." My voice waivers, and I fight like hell to gain control
again. "If you ask me any case dealin' with kids is bad."

She nods at this, a gentle smile forming. She's been there, I know. I've
read the files.

"He was a sick little fuck who liked young boys." I look away for a moment.
The memory of the asshole's face is something I will carry with me forever.
I need to fight to regain control over the anger seeping into my voice. I
look back at her, her face is unreadable now, her crystal blue eyes
betraying nothing. "At first he was just an abuser." I feel the bile
rising in my throat. "He had been molestin' children for years, nothin'
more, just gettin' his ya yas off. But he'd escalated. At first we simply
thought the boy had gone missin', maybe a result of an abduction - broken
marriage maybe the father. Then another kid goes missing the another."
The story pours out of me now, no emotion, it is mechanical. These are
details. They do not hit close to home. That part comes later.

"He was classed as a serial, the FBI was brought in too. The MO was exact
and ritualistic, a little sick, a little twisted but by sensation standards
pretty run of the mill. If anyone can ever call that kind of thing run of
the mill, yah know?"

She nods at me. Her hand going protectively to her burgeoning abdomen.
"So I was one of a team of 7 set up to track him down. At the time I was
still working with the NYPD. We had some leads, one suspect looked
promisin', Bob Harvey a professor at Pace University, but there wasn't
enough evidence to charge him with anythin'. We ragged his ass for days and
then another kid disappears, so there is no way that this is the guy. But we
were sure it was him, certain key evidence pointed to him yet he was under
surveillance when the boy goes missin'. I always thought he was involved in
some way but there was nothin' to really connect him, other than the loosely
circumstantial evidence."

I stop, the anger in me fresh once again from the betrayal of our instincts.
How wrong could we have been? We had wasted so much time at the expense of
another child. I rise to my feet and begin to pace a little.

"Anyway, we started back trackin'. Linin' up some other possibilities. Then
we find the fourth boy. This one was bad. He was the youngest, only five.
But the killer had gone a step further this time and had tried his hand at a
little experimentin'." I stop and look at her, my stomach knotting with the
unforgettable scene as we pulled the boys small mutilated body from a ditch.
I shouldn't be telling her this. I'm sure it will give her nightmares or
something.

I move back to the chair thinking that I have to stop this conversation, as
much for her sake as for mine. I change the subject. This time my hand
reaches out without my thinking. It finds comfort on the warm smooth mound
in front of her. I look her in the eye again. "Do you know if it's a boy or
a girl?" The heat from her body is magical. I am in awe, as I feel the life
inside her move slightly. This is what miracles are made of.

Her eyes stray from mine, and she looks away awkwardly, surprisingly not
because of my touch. "I..." She clears her throat slightly and looks down at
her belly. "I didn't ask."

I nod slightly and begin to pull my hand away. Yet before I can, I feel her
fingers close over mine. "Tell me the rest." She urges.

There is something about her tone that tells me she needs to hear this. So I
drop my eyes and stare at the ancient thick linoleum under her chair. For a
moment I wonder if perhaps this precious child was conceived here. Did they
ever make love here on the floor? On the desk? I shake away the thought.
Yet, I know the exquisite torture and relief of being somewhere where you
have built memories with someone you've loved and lost.

She squeezes my hand prompting me to continue. "We knew the guy was smart.
He clearly stalked his victims, studied them and then waited for his
opportunity. We also knew that he probably already had another victim
chosen. What we didn't know....." There is a lump in my throat the size of a
tennis ball, and I can feel myself beginning to tear up. Another squeeze. I
clear my throat and keep my eyes trained on the thin material separating my
hand from her soft rounded flesh. "What we didn't know was that he had
fixated on me. And that Luke was his next victim."

My tears have begun to flow freely and it is I who am now holding her hand
as if it were a life line. "Bridgette used to take him to the public pool
all the time. He loved the water." I smile at the memory. His gleeful canon
balls into the deep-end As he yelled "Hey, dad watch this!" . The smile on
his sweet face as he splashed and chased the other kids.

"She was talkin' to one of the other moms. She swore she'd only turned away
for a moment...."

My words are coming heavily, my free hand going to my face, swiping
shamelessly the my emotional evidence. "She thought he'd just gone into the
change room.."

"I got the call as we were going over the preliminary coroner's report on
the last victim. I didn't know what to do. I had no idea... We.." The utter
terror of the moment is still fresh in my mind. I lose my breath suddenly
almost as though I have been hit full force with the heavy end of someone's
work boot. Doubling over I pull my hand free, only to feel the warmth of her
hand on my shoulder. My head finds a place resting in my palms. I can taste
the salt of my tears still wet on my lips. This was a very bad idea. I take
a moment to compose myself, thinking that I could still leave now with some
element of my manhood intact, but her touch tells me otherwise. It is
insistent. I can't look at her now.

"We had no idea it was him. I was still combin' the pool and the park
surrounding it when the case broke wide open. The professor we had
suspected, had been havin' an affair
with one of his students. All along I thought it might have been more than
one perp. All along I though Harvey was in on it, but as it turns out the
student could not be accounted for and had ample time and opportunity to
plant the evidence since they'd been meetin' at the professor's apartment
regularly...." Hindsight is 20 / 20 and there are a million what ifs, and
should haves that swirl around in my head constantly. "If only we'd figured
it out sooner... By the time they found him hidin' out at his mother's house
it was too late. We found Luke about 10 miles away layin' face down in the
middle of a field. There was very little evidence to tie him to the guy, but
we were sure it was him. Never the less the case still remains unsolved." I
can feel my hands begin to tremble at the memory of my son's lifeless body
lying in the tall grass, discarded like yesterday's garbage.. My voice
cracks this time my tenuous composure is completely shot. "If only we'd been
earlier, or put it together before then....."

Her hand slides down my arm, and there is a quiver in her voice. "Did you
kill him?" I look up at her, her blue eyes heavy with tears of her own.
I shake my head. "One of my colleagues did. The official report said that he
was shot trying to escape. Though we were never really certain that it was
him. I would have just liked to hear him say that he had done it, alone."

Her eyes shift away from me. "At least you got some satisfaction." There is
something akin to envy in her voice.

"No.." My hands come up to gently grip either side of her head. I force her
to look at me. I want her to see the empty shell of a man that I am. I want
her to know that whatever revenge I managed to gain that day means nothing.
I have lost something that can never be replaced. "I've been where you are.
Nothin' will change what has happened, Agent Scully and no vengeance will
help, despite what you think. But you have a second chance, somethin' I
never did." I rise, my hand dropping to gently graze the swell of her
abdomen. I walk over to the door and grab my jacket off the hook. I can't
look back at her. I need to go home and get shit faced.


* * * * * * * * *

I'm only part way towards oblivion when there is a knock at my front door.
In my somewhat inebriated state I am more complacent with the idea of
pretending I am asleep and perhaps hiding out until whomever it is goes
away. I take another gulp of Jack Daniel's ignoring the burn of it as it
hits the back of my throat and seers it's way into my empty belly. The pain
of it hitting my newly acquired ulcer is nothing compared to the pain I have
been carrying for years and I am sure that I will have to kill more than the
entire bottle to numb that.

So much for my half-assed attempt at psychotherapy. All I managed to do is
fuck with my own head. I drop the glass back onto the table as the door bell
sounds this time, it's loud throng accompanied by some more knocking. It is
insistent. My TV is not on and the house is dark. Why doesn't whoever it is
just go away? The knocking turns to banging, so I rise from the chair and
make my way towards the door, trying not to trip over anything in the
process. Between the lack of light and my lack of sobriety, the fact that I
actually make it to the door without a major injury to myself is a miracle
in and of itself. If this is the friggin' paper boy he's in for a big shock.

I throw the door open and to my surprise there is a emaciated Indian man
standing there, a look of fear spreads across his face as he fumbles for
words and points to the taxi parked in my driveway. "She tell me bring her
here." His English is broken and his words barely intelligible, but his
frantic gestures cause me enough concern that barefooted and shirtless I
make my way out the door past him. He follows behind me, pointing and
mumbling. "She sick, no mess car..."

A flash of brilliant red hair through the back window causes a rush of
sobriety and I run to the car. Throwing the door open I peer in at the woman
I left just a few short hours ago. Her eyes are half closed and her face
contorted with pain. Shit. Instinctively I pull back her light jacket
looking for any sign of blood or injury. "Agent Scully..."

She moans slightly and her eyes flutter open and focus on me. "Help me..."
Her words come as thick utterances.

"Come.." I motion to the driver, but he shakes his head, no. Damn.. Reaching
in I slide my arms under her back and legs. I am in no condition to be
carrying anyone let alone her. Despite the baby she is carrying she weighs
no more than 130 lbs, but in my state that's a lot. Terrified, I make my way
towards the door her arms encircling my neck. She lets out another huff of
pain, followed by something akin to a whimper. Jesus...

The cement is cold and the small pebbles sharp against the soles of my feet,
but this has a surprisingly sobering effect. Slowly, I make my way up the
steps praying to god that we don't fall.

Kicking at the door, I curse quietly as my naked toe comes into contact with
the heavy metal kick plate, thankfully though the door opens slightly
allowing me to wedge my knee into it and force it open fully.

"Oooohhh....." Dana utters another groan of pain. Her face drenched in
sweat, my heart drops into my belly as I make my way across my living room,
my shoulder hitting the light switch as I pass by. She can't be in labor. I
tell myself and place her carefully on the couch. But she has the decidedly
uncomfortable look of someone laboring. Jesus....

I look back at the door in time to see the taxi pulling out of my driveway.
Making my way over to the door I note that the driver has been kind enough
to leave her two small travel bags lying in the middle of my lawn.

This day has suddenly gone from nightmare bad to worse. Another moan ushers
forth from the woman on my couch. "My bag..." The words are heavy with pain.
I look at her for a moment like she is crazy but heed her request and run
out and grab the two bags from their undignified place on the front lawn.

By the time I return she is whimpering again, so I make my way across to her
and drop her cargo unceremoniously on the carpet beside the couch. Bending
over her I place my hand on her forehead. It is slick from sweat, but she
doesn't have a fever. Fear rushes through me I have no idea what to do here.
This seems to be a common thing with me as of late.

Inexplicably, she grabs my hand and places it on her belly. She lets out a
small moan as I feel the muscle under my touch become rock hard. No words
are needed..

Shit shit shit.... She is definitely in labor. And this is bad, very bad. I
am drunk and a mess and even if I wasn't drunk I would still be a fucking
mess. "Okay. Let me call an ambulance, Agent Scully."

Her hand grips mine with a physical strength I wouldn't have expected from
someone so small. "No..." She huffs slightly. "No doctors..."

Is she fucking crazy?

"Please my bag... Inside the black one."

I reach down and throw open her black bag, a loose assortment of clothes
comes tumbling out. Revealing a cardboard box.

"The box.." she mumbles. So I remove it carefully from it's nesting place
and open it. Inside there is tubing, a lot of it, along with assorted IV
bags. This cinches it. She is crazy. What the hell am I supposed to do with
this? "Magnesium sulfate." The words are foreign to me. I look down at the
bags and note that a couple of the other smaller ones say Magnesium, too. "I
need you to set up the IV...." Her words trail off as another contraction
hits. Intuitively, my hand goes to her belly and I begin to massage until I
feel the muscle underneath begin to relax. Her hand closes over mine again.
"The IV..."

"I... I can't.." And I won't. I'm no doctor, but I know if I do this wrong I
could kill her. "Let me call an ambulance.."

She shakes her head animatedly. "I can't trust them.... Please." There is a
panic in her eyes that I have only ever seen one time before, and that was
when she realized that the man she called Jeremiah Smith was gone.

I can't do this and I won't. I have downed more than half a bottle of JD and
my hands are shaking. "Hold on." I rise from the coffee table and grab the
phone from it's cradle on the end table. She clutches at my hand again half
rising from her place on my couch. "NO..." She looks like she is trying to
leave, and I have no doubt that despite her difficulties she will if I don't
listen.

"Relax..." I move to her again and push her back onto the couch. For a
moment she looks as if she is going to fight me, so I drop the phone and
place my hands on either side of her face forcing her to look at me and
listen to me. "I can't do this Dana. I have been drinkin' and I don't trust
myself to do it. I'm goin' to call my sister in law. She is a nurse, and she
lives only five minutes away. She'll come." The fear in her eyes is still
there. "You can trust her, remember that day in the hospital? I promised you
that I would take care of you and I will." The hand clutching mine suddenly
slackens as another contraction hits. I massage her belly again waiting for
the pain to subside. A round of bittersweet de ja vu hits me as I reach for
the phone and dial Kathy's number.

The phone rings four or five times and dread fills me. She has to be home.
She's been working days for the past week. I know this because I was
supposed to have dinner at her place tonight, but seeing my nephews would
have hurt way to much.

"Hello?" A young voice on the other end of the line causes a rush of relief
to course through me.

"Hey Jimmy Joe..." My pet name for my nephew tells him exactly who is
calling. Dana's eyes are closed now. It looks almost like she is sleeping.
My free hand brushes the hair from her forehead. "Is mama there?"

"Hold on Uncle John... Ma ma????" His voice trails off for a moment before I
hear my sister in-laws voice come on the line.

"Hey there, did you change your mind? There's still plenty left."

"No Kath.. Thanks, but listen is Tim home?" My brother owns his own garage
and sometimes works late. I'm hoping that tonight isn't one of those nights.

"Yeah want me to get him for you?"

"No.. I need you to come here right now, it's an emergency. I need you to
hurry."

"Ah.. sure..." Her voice is more than a little hesitant. "I'll be there in a
couple a minutes."

Dana suddenly lets out another soft moan and I feel the pressure mounting in
her belly again.. "Thanks, and Kath?"

"Yeah?"

"Make it quick." The last thing I need is the first hand experience of
delivering a baby. If I had wanted to be a Doctor I would have gone to med
school. My ministrations seem to soothe my partner somewhat so I am more
than willing to accommodate. Once again I marvel at the miracle of life
within her as I feel movement against my hand. I don't know if it was an
fist or a foot, but to know that the child is okay is more than comforting.


* * * * *


I'm in dire need of coffee so I wait for her contraction to end and leave
Dana to her catnap. Making my way to the kitchen I grab some three hour old
coffee and a glass of ice and water. What the hell does Magnesium sulfate
do, anyway? Wandering back into the living room I note that it is now
thoroughly dark outside.

She is still resting as I take my seat on the coffee table once again.
"Agent Scully?" I gulp down a couple of mouthfuls of the thick tar like
liquid and cringe like hell as it hits the hole in my stomach.

Her blue eyes flutter open. "I brought you some water." I hold the glass out
to her as she pulls herself up a little only to be rocked by the onset of
another wave of pain. Damn it Kathy hurry.. It has only been minutes since I
called her, but I want her here now.

The water ends up back on the coffee table as my hands move back to her
abdomen. Lamaze training was a long time ago, another life time, yet I have
never forgotten it. I apply light pressure to the tightening muscle. A few
moments later the pain is gone. And a slight smile escapes my partners lips
for the first time in months. "Thanks... can I have some of the water now?"

I can't help wondering if she wishes it was Mulder's hands on her instead of
mine. She moves up onto one elbow as I bring the glass to her lips. Her red
hair falls about her face as she takes a few sips, and not for the first
time since I met her do I tell myself that she is beautiful. I can
understand Mulder's love for her.

Suddenly, my front door flies open and I am on my feet instantly my eyes
seeking out the comfort of my gun.

"John!" My brother's voice breaks the relative quiet of the room, as he and
my sister in-law rush in. Jesus! Placing the water glass on the table I head
over to the place by my chair where my weapon is perched. I've been caught
without it way to often lately. And my sister in law accepts what I do for a
living but the gun makes her nervous so I and grab it and slide it into the
waste band of my jeans.

Kathy is immediately across the room, as Dana let's out another moan. "Jesus
John.... what the hell is going on here?" She eyes the IVs and looks up at
me, for a moment. Waiting for an explanation. It occurs that all of this is
very surreal. Here I am two sheets to the wind with a pregnant and in labor
woman looking like she is going to give birth on my couch.

"Can you hook it up for me." She looks at me like I am insane and picks up
one of the bags reading the label.

"Mag sulfate?" She looks from me to Dana and back again. "This will stop her
labor John.."

This is news to me.

"Please.." Dana's voice breaks through the tremors rushing through her. "You
have to stop it. Please Doggett, I can't have this baby now, not here...."
Exhausted she closes her eyes and her hand shaking heavily as she brings it
to her eyes to wipe away a few stray tears

"Kath, just do it."

My sister in-law looks at me in something akin to horror and then places her
hand on My partner's wrist. "I need a piece of paper and a pen and some
rubber gloves."

My brother passes me a pen from the pocket of his work uniform as I grab my
phone bill from it's holder on my wall.

"In the bag..." Dana's hand drops to the floor her finger pointing in the
general direction of the black suitcase I had opened earlier. "Everything
you need is in there."

Kathy pulls out some more clothes and retrieves a sizable black case from
the bottom. Opening it she gives me another questioning look, and then
removes a stethoscope and BP cuff with a small self reader. Holy shit do I
feel like a lost cow in the middle of the woods. This is clearly all part of
something well planned, yet somewhere along the way either someone forgot to
let me in on it, or more likely than not I was never supposed to know but
somehow, something went terribly wrong.

"John help me get these tights off and Tim get me a blanket." My brother,
who has been hiding in the corner since they arrived, looks decidedly pale.
He's a mechanic, the insides of cars are what he knows and I am sure that
that is by choice. He wouldn't even go into the delivery room with Kathy
when she was having their babies. It seems that now he might get more than a
basic carnal tour of the female anatomy.

"In the closet beside my bedroom." I direct him as I pass by and make my way
over to my partner. Her face is contorted again and another gasp escapes her
parted lips as my hands find their way back to her belly. Rubbing away, I
look at Kathy more than a little confused. I've seen IV's before and usually
there is no need to undress the patient.

She slips on some rubber gloves as the contraction subsides. She must have
seen the look on my face.

"I need to give her an internal examination before I can give her this
stuff, John. If she is too far progressed it will do her no good at all."
Kathy has grabbed the BP cuff from the bag and is placing it around Dana's
arm.

Sucking in my breath I wrap my fingers around the waist band and tug gently.
I want this to be over with quickly, because this is clearly more of my
partner than I need to, or want to see. Yet, the last thing I want to do is
cause her any pain, so I move slowly waiting for her as she adjusts her body
to accommodate my actions.

"You can leave her underwear on." Kathy informs me in a matter of fact way.

That's good because I wasn't planning to take them off. Just taking her
pants off is bad enough.

The tights slide easily down her legs once they have cleared the bulk of her
abdomen, I discard them onto the floor and pull the oversized Nike top she
is wearing down as far as it will go. My hand skims her legs as Tim passes
me the blanket he has returned with, and not for the first time do I
realized how tiny she is. Her stomach is huge but other than that I'm sure
she has gained nothing. Bridgette when she was pregnant gained a about 50
lbs, and it gave her a beautiful flush that made me love her even more.

Dana Scully has not carried this pregnancy well. She has been to stressed
out and too busy grieving to take care of herself and this is where I have
failed her. I should have been there more, even if it was just to listen.
But then that would have required someone to do some talking.

Covering her, I move out of the way as Kathy takes a seat beside Scully on
the couch. "Hold her hand." She orders me as I begin to skulk away. I'd much
rather join my brother on the front porch, but I move up by her head and
take my partner's hand anyway.

"Okay honey, I need you to spread your legs and take a deep breath. This may
hurt a little." Kathy pulls the blanket up to her knees and looks over at
me.

"Hurry.." The words from Dana's mouth are grating as she gives into another
contraction.

I watch as my sister in law slathers her glove with some kind of jelly and
then moves her gloved hand under the cover. I know exactly what she is
doing, but I would prefer to live in denial, so I look at Dana's face. Kathy
's movements are clearly not pleasant for her, so I dip my free hand in the
glass of water that I brought for her earlier and run my fingers over her
forehead, hoping that this helps a little.

The snap of the rubber gloves draws my attention back to Kathy, as she
removes them and tosses them on the table. Wordlessly she moves back to the
IV box and begins removing stuff. "I think she's close to 3 centimeters
dilated, and only about 10% effaced. It's been a long time since I worked
L&D... She can have this, but I don't know how long it will work for. She
needs to go to the hospital John."

Tell me something I don't already know.. "She won't."

As if appealing to her would do any good my sister in-law bends over and
repeats herself to Dana. "Honey, you need to be in the hospital."

"No...." Dana shakes her head and lets out another sharp breath. "It's too
early I'm only 7 and a half months along. Hook up the Mag... first hour 20
ml per, bump it up 10 after that..."

"Honey, you're small and you may need a section and if labor doesn't stop
this baby is going to need a lot of help. The best place for you and the
baby is in a hospital being looked after by a physician."

"No Doctors, I need to be in Florida when I deliver.."

Florida? Holy shit in a hand basket. "Florida?" Both Kathy and I say in
unison. Clearly both of us agree. Travel is not a good idea.

"There is no way you should move around with this in your system, let alone
travel. The side effects can be lethal and you need to be monitored very
closely." Then she looks at me as if to say that this is all my fault. "I
could lose my license just doing this and I would really like to know what
fucking doctor let this woman loose with a whole supply of this stuff,
anyway.."

"I'm a Doctor.. Please.." My partner's hand grasps mine as she sinks into
another round of pain.

"Kath, please just do it.." I look at her pleading. What more can I do?

"Damn... Here.." Passing me the IV bag she begins to mess with the tubing.
"You need to hang it up somewhere. And tell Tim to go home. The girl next
door is watching the boys, she's only 12." Relief bounds through me. God
bless you, Kathy. The last thing I want to do is be left alone with this
situation.

Pulling the picture off of the wall behind my couch, I hang the bag on it's
nail and make my way over to the front door. "Hey Tim.."

My brother doesn't look much like me. He's about 4 inches shorter,
considerably darker than I am. When we were kids people would always imply
that he might be the mailman's. And I have to admit there are times that I
have wondered. Right now, I am not surprised by the fact that he is sucking
back on a cigarette and downing a beer that he acquired from my fridge. He
gave up smoking years ago but every once in a while he'll have one just to
calm his nerves.

He turns to look back at me. A sly grin spreading across his face. "Pretty,
who is she?" Did I mention that he and I have a totally different outlook on
life? Or that we are nothing alike personality wise? "My partner."

He nods his head in acceptance. "Is it yours?"

"No.." I wonder what he would think if I told him that my pretty partner
believes that she might have been impregnated by aliens. That's also
something she and I have never discussed. We need to have a long talk after
this medication takes effect and I have sobered up enough to be somewhat
coherent. I think I've earned that much considering the fact that it is my
couch she is crashed on. "Tim go home.. Kathy's goin' to stay here with Dana
and she's worried about the boys."

"Sure man..." I think this is the escape he was hoping for, so he waves at
me and heads towards his pick up. "Catch ya later.."

Shaking my head I return to the living room, in time to see Kathy connect
the tubing to the bag.

A small huff emanates from the prone form on my couch and I immediately move
to her, despite my desire to seclude myself in my bed. My adrenaline high is
wearing off and I am beginning to feel the thick cottoniness of the 30 oz of
JD I ingested. Right now I could probably use another glass, but Agent
Scully is ultimately more important than my needs, so I take her free hand
in mine as I watch Kathy slip the catheter into her other wrist. She looks
like she is napping again.

Kathy's very good at what she does, and I'm grateful for this. A few flicks
of the wrist and the fluid is running down the line and into my partner,
accompanied by the contents of a second larger bag. "How long will it take?"

"A couple of hours maybe... We should know soon if this is going to work.
But after this bag she should be able to take it orally. If she has any."
She picks up the blood pressure cuff and wraps it around my partner's arm,
giving a grunt of satisfaction when the gage gives her a good reading.

I look down at Dana as her eyes flutter open. A sudden look of pain flits
across her face and she places my hand on her belly once more. I feel the
intense tightening and begin to massage again until all traces of the
tension are gone.

My sister in-law smiles at me. "You're a natural, John." Despite our
differences both she and my brother were there for me when everything went
down, and I love them dearly, They are all I have. They know what I have
been through and with them there is always open arms and acceptance.

Speaking of family, I wonder why my partner didn't go to her mother's
instead. I am the last person that I would have expected her to turn to.
Besides Mrs. Scully should be here for her. "Dana..." I wait for her to look
at me and then move closer to her so that she can see my face fully. "Do you
want me to call your mother?"

A look of panic crosses her face momentarily before she shakes her head.
"No.." She clears her throat and reaches for the water. Kathy scoops it up
before she can grab it and heads off into the kitchen to get her some fresh
stuff. Seconds later she is back and holding it to Dana's mouth.

"She should be here." I persist. There is obviously more to this than she's
willing to tell me, but I deserve some answers.

"She's visiting my brother in California." Agent Scully's eyes veer away
from me and this is how I know she is not being totally forthcoming.

"I can call her." I suggest, knowing now that this is something she doesn't
want.

"My sister in law, Tara is bedridden with her 2nd pregnancy. She's needed
there." A low grunt issues forth and I begin to massage again. This time the
tightening isn't quite as strong and doesn't last nearly as long. I wait
until the last vestiges of pain have gone and then continue.

"She's needed here, and I know she would want to be here for this. Since it
is apparent to both you and I that her newest grandchild is goin' to be born
soon.." I know that she doesn't have the strength to argue with me now. She
is fighting her exhaustion. Normally I wouldn't take advantage of someone
her state, but I need some answers.

Her eyes open fully at my suggestion, the blue in them a little clearer. I
can tell by the look on her face that she is judging me. Clearly whatever
doubts she has are easing. "She doesn't know..."

Her words hang there, as I stare on in shock. She went through the last
seven months completely alone? Jesus.

"Well don't you think she should?" Is about all I can manage.

She shakes her head a familiar air of fear settling over her. Her eyes are
pleading and I don't have the heart to do this to her anymore, so I don't
argue. I know now what her nightmares are made of and I will not force her
to face them tonight. Another contraction hits it is still strong, but she
gets by with me simply holding her hand.

"Kath..." I call to my sister in law, as she shuffles in from the kitchen
holding a mug of my wondrous coffee. There are dark circles under her hazel
eyes and she looks considerably older than her 40 years. What I have done to
her is not fair. She worked all day and here she is helping me out, no
questions asked. She's pulled her dark hair back off of her face, and is
staring at me waiting for more orders, or possibly hoping for an
explanation. "I think this stuff is workin'.."

She nods. "Good." Moving back over to Dana and takes another blood pressure.

My partner's eyes are closed now and her breath has slowed, she's sleeping,
but looks decidedly uncomfortable. "Can we move her to my bed?"

"She shouldn't be moving around." Kathy checks the lines and slows the drip
of the larger bag.

"I'll carry her. If she sleeps here she won't be able to walk in the mornin'."

"That might not be a bad thing, John. What she said about going to Florida,
she can't be serious. This medication she's on, has to be monitored
carefully. Her blood pressure could get all fluky, there's hypokalemia,
hyperglycemia and heart arrhythmia's to worry about. It is supposed to be
checked every 1/2 hour, by someone qualified." Her hands go to her hips, the
look on her face somewhat accusatory. "On top of that she is very very
small. I have no doubt that her Doctor has told her she may need to be
sectioned. Your having her here is insane."

I really am at a loss. All of the medical mumbo jumbo means nothing to me,
but the side effects sure as hell sound serious. But how do I force Dana to
do something she doesn't want? I refuse to go behind her back, since she has
placed her trust in me. Yet, what kind of a friend, or partner would I be if
I let her risk her own life and the life of her child? This is all way to
much for me to deal with now. I need to sleep, let the alcohol wear off.
"Let's just get her into the bed."

I slide my hands underneath her as another contraction ripples through her.

"Wait." Kathy looks at me a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Maybe I should
go change the sheets."

After Bridgette took her life, I became the ultimate bachelor living the
high life. I am not proud of myself, but in all honesty there were only a
few nights for about a two year period when my bed contained only me. And
most times the women keeping me company were a one time only prospect.
Truthfully, it was what I thought I wanted, yet I came to realize at some
point that this was only hurting me. The void I was trying to fill was not
something that could be taken care of with meaningless sex. It has been a
while but I am sure Kathy remembers that time in my life quite well since it
often spilt over into her and Tim's life. I grimace at the memory. "They're
fresh. My housekeeper came in today." My one concession to bachelor hood. I
am far from a neat freak. I need someone to clean up after me at least once
a week for fear of living in a garbage can.

"Okay.." She grabs the bags from their place on the wall and follows me into
the bedroom.

Fortunately it is only a few feet away, since the last of my energy is
slowly sinking. I did not sleep well last night with the prospect of today
facing me. Not that I planned anything like this, it's just that I had the
damn mobile hanging over my head.

My partner lets out a small moan as I place her on the bed. She is somewhat
awake but very drowsy. Another contraction is moving through her, and I eye
Kathy as she hangs the bags up on another picture hook. "Is this drowsiness
normal?" I massage her belly again as the pressure subsides.

"Yeah, it can be one of the side effects. Listen why don't you get some
sleep. It's going to take a few hours for this to run through and I'll keep
an eye on her until then."

The clock on my night stand says 9:30 pm, yet somehow it feels as if I have
been up forever. "Don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"No.. I wasn't supposed to work last weekend but I covered for someone, so I
have the tomorrow off." She turns from the room and goes to retrieve some of
the medical gear left in the other room.

The blanket I had covered Dana with earlier has at some point during
transport, partially slipped off revealing the creamy smooth skin of her
legs. Small goose pimples pock the exposed area mercilessly. I pull the
cover back into place. I don't like to see my partner hurting or vulnerable.
She is one of the strongest people I have ever met, yet laying like this in
my bed she has allowed me to a hidden part of herself. One that is marked by
the fragility of her situation. In coming here she has shared something more
of herself.

Rising from my seat beside her I move to my dresser searching for a
Christmas gift that I have never felt the need to use.

Kathy has returned BP Cuff in hand. "She looks like she's doing okay."

The contractions seem to be slowing since the pain is only enough to draw
her partially out of her sleep.

"Yeah.." I mutter, digging through my drawers. It has to be somewhere in
here. A moment later I spot the red flannel material poking out from the
back of my shirt drawer. "Do you think you could help her get into this?" I
ask Kathy, holding up a large red night shirt with a life-sized picture of
the Grinch on the front of it.

She giggles slightly, no doubt remembering the look on my face when my
nephew gave it to me a few years ago. He'd picked it out and paid for it
with his allowance money. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was as ugly
as hell. "Sure, you look pretty rough go get some sleep."

Rough is an understatement. I smell like a bar, and feel like shit. She
doesn't ask any questions and for the millionth time I am thankful. Taking
one last look at my sleeping partner, I turn and make my way back onto the
living room couch. On the floor, a pile of Dana's clothing still lays strewn
from where it had been hastily thrown earlier, so I pick them up one by one,
placing them carefully back into the opened bag. I feel like a voyeur
handing her personal items. They all sport the same fresh clean smell that I
have come to associate with being uniquely Agent Scully.

Underneath the mound I find a picture of her and Mulder in a small brass
frame. It is clearly a professional photo, since both are wearing suits, and
ID badges. I search their faces for evidence something that betrays their
love and affection, something that will share with me the nature of their
relationship. I know they were in love, yet they were so careful never
expose themselves in public. Except for his hand placed in the small of her
back, I see nothing that would give way to any emotional truth. It must have
been hard for them to never be able to touch or hold each other in public.
It must have been one hell of a life to live.

I place the frame and it's contents carefully back into the bag. There are
bets being placed on who the paternity of this child belongs to. I've held
my own thoughts to myself waiting for the appropriate time to approach her
about it. Despite the fact that it is really none of my business, I need to
know. Curiosity very typical to most humans and I am afraid I am fallibly
so.

Placing my gun the table beside me, I lay on the couch beckoning sleep. It
is a short wait and emotionally drained, I don't fight it when it comes.

* * * * * * * * * *

I awake the feeling of someone nudging me, my hand immediately fumbling for
my gun.

"John.." Kathy's voice breaks through the haze, and draws me up into a
sitting position.

"Yeah.." My head is on fire and my mouth is full of cotton baton.

I used to drink.

Right after my son's death, I used to drink a lot. Now I only touch the
stuff casually, over dinner or at a party. I has been a long time since I
actually drank to get drunk, and my body is no longer used to it.

"It's late, Hon I have to go home." She is standing over me waiting for me
to come to my senses. The clock on my VCR says it's five in the morning.
Jesus, she went way beyond staying a while.

"Kath, you should have woken me up." I swipe at my eyes trying to chase away
the remains of my sleep.

"Nah.." She pats me on the shoulder. "When the bag was finished I gave her
some of the stuff orally and grabbed a few winks myself. She's okay, but she
'll need to take another dose at 7. The contractions have stopped, but she
needs to be careful. And you really have to talk her into going to the
hospital. She should be there."

Talk about information overload. I need a coffee. "Okay." I tell her trying
to appease her.

"John?" Kathy stares at me here her hazel eyes betraying the fact that she
really hasn't gotten as much sleep as she said.

I nod at her, knowing what is coming next.

"Who is she?"

"My partner.." Surprisingly enough I have not discussed Agent Scully with my
family. We have been working together for 6 months, but I have kept both her
and the x-files close my breast, revealing nothing of them.

"Why doesn't she want to go see a doctor? You would think that being one
herself she would know better." Kathy reaches for her coat on the arm chair
and slips it on.

As much as I am in the dark about many things, this is a question I do know
the answer to. But the story is way too involved for me to get into at this
time in the morning. "She's had a tough time of it."

The vagueness of my answer is enough to tell her that it is not something I
want to discuss. "Take my truck home. The keys are hangin' on the hook
beside the front door. I point in that general direction I'll pick it up
somehow in the mornin'."

"It's okay I called a cab it should be here any minute." The words are
barely out of her mouth when a flash of lights spans the window, signaling
it's arrival.

"Here." I rise from the couch and reach into the pocket of my overcoat.
Pulling out a $20 I pass it to her. My brother makes a decent living but he
has a house and two children to support.

"No, John.." She turns to leave as I shove it into her pocket.

"Then give it to the boys." Kath gives me a quick hug and disappears out the
door and a chill passes through me. I am on my own now.



The kitchen light is on so I wander in and brew myself a fresh pot of
coffee, it's not great but it is sorely needed. A few minutes later I've
drained the cup and chased it with a beer and two aspirin. It's the best
cure for a hangover that I know of, and right now I'm in dire need.

There is a dim light shining from under my bedroom door, so I make my way in
there to check on my partner. My heart drops to the floor when my eyes fall
upon the empty bed, and the panic in me begins to rise.

The churning of water sounds from the bathroom and to my surprise Agent
Scully waddles out looking glorious in my giant grinch night shirt. She is
swaying slightly and I watch as her hand protectively covers her abdomen.
She looks both startled and a little worried to see me.

"Hey.." I begin, moving quickly to her side. "Let me help you." I slip my
arm around her and am surprised to find that she doesn't shrug off my
support. In fact she leans a little more into me as I lead her back to bed.
Clearly what this woman has needed for a long time is a little emotional
sustenance.

She slides back under the covers willingly and I drape them over her. There
are dark circles under her eyes and she looks somewhat lost.

"I just made some fresh coffee, you want some?"

She looks at me for a moment as if she is trying to read my mind, and then
nods silently.

I head off back to the kitchen, grabbing my discarded shirt from the day
before and throwing it on. I am in serious need of a shower, and a date with
a toothbrush, but a rinse with some mouthwash will have to do for now. I
pour the coffee and grab some cream and sugar and duck into the guest
bathroom, before heading back into the room.

She is massaging her stomach slightly and looking intently at the bulk of
her abdomen, when I return. My heart starts to beat a little faster, hoping
to god that she hasn't started labor again. The prospect is more terrifying
to me when I am sober, than it was last night. This is despite the fact that
I have my wits about me now, or perhaps for that very same reason.

I pass her the coffee and take a seat beside her on the bed. "Is everythin'
okay?" My hand brushes her belly, looking for some tell tale signs of
tightening.

She takes a sip of the coffee and grimaces slightly. I know it's brutal
tasting but what does she expect? "I'm fine." She looks down at where my
hand is still resting on the her stomach.

"I owe you an apology." My words draw a look of surprise from her. I'm
hoping she won't ask me to move my hand. I like the feel of the new life
inside her. I can feel the baby's tiny movements, it's wondrous. It brings
out a protectiveness in me that is almost feral, along with this comes the
onslaught of bittersweet memories. "I'm sorry I was in such bad shape when
you showed up last night. It's not ever how I wanted you to see me, and I
want you to know that despite last night you can always depend on me."

Swallowing deeply she shakes her head and looks me in the eye. "You don't
owe me and apology or an explanation. I, however, owe you both."

"No apology necessary. I'm just glad you felt you could come here." She nods
slightly at that. Maybe the trauma of yesterday's conversation was worth it
after all. "I do have a few questions though."

She looks at me expectantly, and then rubs her belly again. "The answer to
your first one is; I don't know." There is a measure of pain and
embarrassment evident on her face. "Did you win the office pool?" She's
staring at me now, a little anger floating to the surface. I don't think it
is directed at me, most likely the situation, but she is definitely gaging
my reaction.

"I don't participate in shit like that, and I hope you know that." She
slumps back a little into the pillow and nods. This actually wasn't my first
question but it was on the list so I go with it. "but Agent Scully," I have
to ask. "How can you not know?" She doesn't seem the type to sleep around,
and I don't buy this alien baby crap.

Her eyes close slightly as if she is speaking from a memory. "Mulder and
I...." Her voice cracks when she says his name and it hurts to see the look
of anguish that flits across her face. "We'd loved each other for years, but
we'd only ever been together twice, the first time was a week before he
disappeared, the second time was the night directly before. If the dates are
right I was already pregnant before our first night together."

Well doesn't that beat all. Rumors had them goin' at it since day one. I
scratch my head, it's too early in the morning for weird shit.

"About a year ago. I asked him to be a donor. When I found out that I was
barren I had trouble dealing with the fact that I could never have children.
Mulder had found some of my ova stored in a government lab. He said it wasn'
t viable. I had another doctor, Dr. Parenti, look at it. He told me he
thought there was a chance, and Mulder agreed to the IVF program." I can see
tears forming in her eyes and she swallows heavily. "It didn't work."

"And there was no one else?"

If she is insulted by this she doesn't show it, instead she just shakes her
head. I understand now why she was so terrified when Mr. Haskell showed up
in our office that day. I was right, Agent Scully's story is exactly the
same as his wife's. Why am I all of a sudden feeling like Joseph on his way
to Bethlehem?

"I know this is all very hard for you to believe." Her eyes drop away from
mine and focus on the sheet in front of her.

"Listen, it's not a matter of what I believe, you're here and that's what
counts." My hand instinctively goes to her chin and I force her to look at
me. I need her to believe me. "If you want my help you have it 100% Whatever
I can do, I'll do. I just need you to tell me what that is. I mean, I have
to admit you scared the hell out of me last night, but I whatever it takes..
I just need to know before hand and that means no more secrets."

She considers this a moment. We got off to a shaky start, I'll admit. But I
am also pretty sure that since then I have proven myself. I deserve the
benefit of the doubt. I'm asking for her trust, which is clearly hard for
her to give, especially when it could mean something as important to her as
the survival her baby.

"If it's okay with you I will stay here for the day and continue to take the
pills." She looks uncertain and a little worried. "If it's not too much of
an imposition."

"Oh it is.." I assure her. "Now I'll have to wait until tomorrow to do my
laundry.." Doesn't she know?

She smiles at this and the radiance of it makes me smile in return. I'm in
way too deep now. I'm drowning and I don't give a damn.. Can you say puppet?
Well that's me.. I'm dangling on a string, and she is utterly in control.

"If everything is okay then I will go home tonight. If labor starts again I'
ll need you to help me get to Florida."

Jesus are we back to that again? I said 100% didn't I - not 98 or 99.. Shit.
"Why Florida, though? Couldn't you pick somewhere closer? Like Virginia,
Kentucky or even Tennessee? I mean why Florida? The palm trees and beaches?"
I am sure this has everything to do with why she showed up unexpectedly last
night, this is all part of a bigger plan that I wasn't meant to know about.

"There's someone there, who Skinner thinks we can trust."

Ahh there it is. Skinner. He's the final piece in this puzzle. "Speakin' of
which why isn't he here?"

"He's in Oregon, for an annual AD's meeting. He didn't want to leave but it
was mandatory that he go, and I still have almost 7 weeks left so I thought
it would be okay." She looks down at her hands somewhat guiltily.

I know I wasn't first choice and I know why. I smile at this hoping to ease
her mind a little. "Surprise Agent Scully, baby's don't always do what you
expect them to. My wife was two weeks late." A bolt of grief mixed with
pleasure moves through me as I remember the tiny squalling pink thing that
instantly became the love of my life.

She smiles at this and it is brilliant. "Agreed."

"So does Skinner know what went down last night?" I can picture the man
totally frantic at not being able to reach her. I know I would be.

"Yes. I called him, and he thought his rushing off would bring a lot
unwanted attention. He's certain he is being watched and I know I was. My
phone was tapped, as was his. He told me to come to you."

"You really think that someone is after your baby?" I'm unsure. It seems
paranoid to say the least, yet there is some proof of this.

"Even you're being watched, Agent Doggett." She looks at me and I see the
certainty mixed with fear in her eyes.

I'm astounded and more than a little skeptical. I'm sure the look on my face
tells her this because she reaches out and grabs the cordless beside my bed.
Popping off the face plate she holds up the unit and points to what looks
undeniably like a bug of some sort.

Well shit! I drop my voice, as the feeling of being violated begins to seep
in. "I still don't understand why and then why did you come here if I am
being watched? You are no safer here than at home then"

She looks a little sheepish and I get the feeling that what she has to say
next is something I am not going to like.

"First of all your house is clean so there is no need to whisper."

I look at her amazed. "How can you be sure of this if my phone has been
bugged? I'm sure wouldn't only do the phone they'd wire the house too, no?"

"They did." She looks me in the eye. "But as of yesterday it is clean." Her
next words are a little tentative. "The gunmen, they swept it just before
you came home.."

What the fuck?

"They left the phones so I could prove to you that what I am saying is
true." She rotates her hand in circular fashion, indicating my house. "But
they've been sweeping it weekly."

Weekly? They've been rummaging through my personal effects on a weekly
basis? I'm somewhat at a loss, I can't decide whether to be totally pissed
or grateful for the fact that they have been looking out for me. Wait, who
am I kidding? It's Dana they are looking out for. I shake my head. My
hangover headache, which had receded, comes back with a vengeance.

"Please, don't be angry with them." Her voice is soft and her words worried.
Her hand grips my shoulder lightly. "I asked them to do it for me. If you
have to be mad at anyone, it's me."

I look up at her. Agent Scully is an enigma. She's beautiful smart and
strong. Yet there is a frailty about her that makes me want to do everything
I can to protect her, and this scares me. My hand moves to her face and I
brush away a loose strand of hair hanging in front of her eyes. Jesus... I
drop my head into my hands rub viscously at my eyes. She's managed to touch
something in me that I thought was long dead. I'm a goner now. How can I be
mad at her?

Swallowing all of the emotions I am feeling, I accept her explanation for
now, but I still need some more answers... "Okay... Forgive me, because I am
confused, but was I part of this whole scenario or not then? I mean I get
the feelin' that everything was planned without me, yet you made plans for
me without my knowledge, too. So please just paint me a complete picture
will you because I already have a wicked headache and it's, what?" I check
my beside clock. "Not even 6 in the mornin'. I mean I have to be honest with
you, all this cloak and dagger stuff is a little beyond me." Right now I am
yearning for my days on the NYPD, everything was more straight forward back
then.

"After the Haskell case, I was a nervous wreck. Both Skinner and I realized
that if they were willing to go to the extent that they did to get Ms.
Hendershott's baby then they would probably do the same where I was
concerned." She looks at me for a moment and then continues. "We first
needed to know how they knew where I was going when they managed to catch up
with me at the military hospital...."

"But you already know that information come from me." I had inadvertently
turned the CIA onto her by looking into the Haskell issue.

"Your friend, the one in the jeep who took Ms Henderschott and I from the
facility, did you actually call him and tell him to come and get us? Because
that is what he said to me. He told me that you had sent him. Skinner told
me that he called security and told them to keep and eye on me and make sure
that I was safe. That's all. So some how your friend the CIA guy found out
where I was and managed to get there in time to switch Mrs. Henderschott's
baby."

I have to think about it a moment. There are so many assumptions we make
without question, for me it comes from trying to live a less paranoid life.
Despite my history with the NYPD, I am still an optimist at heart. People do
bad things to others everyday, but I prefer to believe that my friends are
not out to get me. Unfortunately, in this instance she is right I never told
Knowle anything. "No.." I shake my head. "The last time I had talked to him
was that day I caught up to him. The actual reason I suspected somethin'
more with Mr. Haskell was because he hadn't gotten back to me.... Damn..." I
run my hands nervously through my hair. This is getting more uncomfortable
by the minute. "I thought Skinner had called and requested some assistance.
The CIA has a few offices in the hospital, they pretty much keep tabs on
what goes on there, since the CIA and military are so closely associated.."

"But this particular man, your friend, is that where he works out of?"

"No but it could have just been a coincidence." I look at her hopefully.

"There are no coincidences, Agent Doggett." This the number one rule in law
enforcement, something that is drummed into any newbie starting out at the
academy. Sometimes however where certain people we like and respect are
involved, it seems an acceptable excuse. I very much don't like the
implication. I have known Knowle for years I don't like the idea of having
to watch my back where my friends are concerned.

"Anyway, We had a feeling that at least I was being monitored so we brought
in the guys and they discovered that I was bugged, as was Skinner." She
looks down at her hands for a moment and then back up at me. "We honestly
didn't think that they would bother with you. But we were wrong."

"I have to be honest, I wish you had been." She nods silently at this. My
chest feels heavy almost like someone has kicked the air out of it. I used
to have a normal life. People around me that I could trust. This all seems
to be dissipating before my eyes. Or perhaps what worries me even more is
the fact that this has been going on around me for a long time and I have
been oblivious. "Why didn't you tell your mother?"

My question has taken her by surprise, her mouth opens and then closes again
before her eyes drop to the bulk of her stomach. When she looks up at me
there are tears in her eyes. Her worlds are soft and weighted with fear.
"Mrs. Henderschott. She told me when she was in labor, that she was afraid
of what was in her." One hand goes to wipe away the tears as they stream
down her face. "I... I feel the same way... I just couldn't do this to her.
She has been through a lot. If everything is okay, I will tell her."

She's openly crying now and I reach out to her and ease her into my arms.
"Shhhh... Everything will be okay..." I assure her, though the truth of it
all is that I am now more unsure of this than ever. I rock her, waiting for
her to pull away, but hoping that she won't. This is insane. Feeling
anything more for her than compassion is suicide. She is 7 months pregnant
and clearly still in love with another man. A dead one at that. I'm
beginning to think that I like to hurt myself.

* * * * * *

It's almost ten o'clock when I wake next. My back is stiff and I am sore
from the odd position I have been sleeping in. Agent Scully is still in my
arms, having cried her self back to sleep. At some point I managed to move
onto the bed with her and drifted off myself, half sitting half laying
against the headboard.

Welcome to weirdsville, population one;

Me.

My wife is staring at me from the photo I keep of her on my bedside table. I
get the feeling that she is laughing at me from wherever it is that she
finds herself now.. She always used to laugh at me, there were many times I
found myself involved in stuff that was a little odd. Though I have to admit
that this scenario, whatever it is that I have fallen into is by far the
strangest.

Oh shit..

Beside the photo sits a bottle of pills. Pills that my partner was supposed
to take at 7 am not 10. She is sleeping so comfortably though and I wonder
if perhaps I shouldn't just leave her for a bit longer.

I stare for a moment at swell of her belly if you look really closely you
can see small stirrings, maybe and elbow or a heel. I wonder if agent Scully
's baby ever has the hiccups, Luke was bad with them. I was the most bizarre
thing, late in the pregnancy, and almost every night at the same time my
wife would laugh and announce that he had the hiccups again.

I think my arm has gone to sleep. Agent Scully has been lying on it for some
time now and I can't feel it at all. "Hey..." I whisper in her ear and move
some of her hair from her face. She looks peaceful in her sleep. I don't
want to wake her, but I think the need for her to take the medicine the
outweighs the sleep she needs. "Agent Scully..."

The response I get is not what I expect. She roles over and snuggles into me
a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her stomach is now sandwiched between the two
of us, her head snuggled beneath my chin. I can feel the heat from the baby
she is carrying weave it's way through me and with this a sinking feeling
sets in.

This is not good. Now what do I do? I'm beginning to slip into panic mode
when I look down to see two blue eyes staring up at me. She draws away a
little, surprised at the position she finds herself in.

"Sorry..." She pulls away completely struggling to draw herself up to a
sitting position.

I slip a hand behind her back and give her a little shove.

"For what?" I join her sitting and quickly climb off the bed, shaking my arm
in the process. It's got that pins and needles thing happening and it's
making me crazy.

She gazes at me for a moment before smiling. "For this..." She says as if
she thinks I know what this is. When I shake my head in uncertainty she goes
on. "For bringing my mess of a life into yours."

I stare at her a moment trying to find the words to explain my mishmash of
emotions. None will suffice. So I settle for honesty, it is not eloquent,
but it is the best I can do. "Maybe you haven't realized this yet, but Agent
Scully, you do matter to me." Her eyes search mine for a moment an odd look
masking her face, before she nods her head.

It is at this point that I begin to wonder about Agent Mulder. The look on
her face has led me to believe that this is not something that's been said
to her nearly enough. There is a sadness there that cuts straight through to
her soul. Can it be such a foreign idea to her that someone actually cares
about her and is willing to admit it? To me this is what love is all about.
It is trust, an opening and sharing of emotion, with someone who you know
you can hand your heart over to without fear of them marring or mangling it.
I had that with Bridgette. During our marriage and before everything went so
terribly wrong we were very much in love. In the end though, it was
different. Her depression and sadness had overcome her completely and I
don't think she could have realized that in doing what she did to end her
pain, she would take a part of my heart with her. I close my eyes against
the ache growing inside me.

"You need to take your pills." I remind her, hoping that the hitch in my
voice goes unnoticed. Pointing to the beside table I indicate the bottle
that Kath left out. "I'll get you some water."

I need a little emotional distance. What I want to do is quiz her about her
relationship with this man who supposedly loved her, but I won't do that to
Dana Scully, she's been through enough and I am in no position to judge,
because in reality it is none of my business.

When I return she is staring at Bridgette's photo. She looks up at me and
holds the picture up. "Your ex-wife?"

I shake my head and pass her the water. "No. I'm a widower, Agent Scully."

The curiosity in her eyes is enough to draw the answer out of me though this
is not a memory I want to visit. "She took her own life." I feel my knees go
weak at this admittance, and plop down beside her on the bed. My hands have
very suddenly become fascinating to me. They are rough and age worn much
like my emotional wounds. Inexplicably my mouth begins to move. "She.. she
couldn't deal with Luke's death." My hands move nervously through my hair as
I lean forward to inspect my naked feet. "I watched her too, you know."

She's looking at me. I can feel the heat of her gaze upon me, though I can't
bring myself to look into her eyes and see in them the same anguish I am
feeling. "I could actually see her becomin' more distant and withdrawn.
Sometimes it just hurt to look at her, but there was nothin' I could do. I
was a mess myself. Instead of drawin' strength from each other we both
pulled away tryin' to heal on our own." I look at her now. "The gardener at
her father's cottage found her locked in the garage with the car runnin'."

Her arms are around me, as she pulls me into tentative a hug. "I'm sorry.."
are the only words she mumbles as lose myself in her embrace. This is
somewhere I want to be, but the enhanced swell of her breasts and the solid
mass pressing up against my stomach bring me back to reality. Both of my
hands move to her face and I distance myself from her, moving her head back
just enough so that I can look into her eyes. "You scared me." I tell her. I
want to close my mouth over hers and with that erase the anguish of her
recent past. But in reality I know that is not my kiss that will do this for
her. "For the last few months you've had the same look in your eyes that
Bridgette had. And I don't mind admittin' that it scared the shit out of
me."

Her eyes close as a tear exposes itself from beneath one eyelid and I can't
believe I am doing it as my mouth closes over hers.

Fuck fuck fuck... my conscience is screaming and yelling recriminations at
me. This is wrong, yet it feels so right. Her lips are soft an pliable under
mine and I can feel my own arousal building. There is no way I will allow
this kiss to go beyond what it already has, yet my body it appears has a
mind of it's own.

It is both a blessing and a disappointment when the door bell rings. I can
feel her eyes following me as make my way to the door. Throwing it open I am
faced with the impressive stature of a very worried and nervous Walter
Skinner.

Looking me up and down he steps in and swings the door shut behind him. "Is
she here?"

"Yeah.." I point towards the bedroom.

"Is she okay?" He seems almost frantic and I wonder, not for the first time,
if he himself has feelings for her. I've seen the way he stares at my
partner sometimes.

"Yeah.. That stuff she brought with her helped." I'm talking to his back as
he makes his way across the room.

"So labor has stopped?" He seems relieved and his pace slows a little.

"Yeah for now. My sister in law says she's to lay low for a while though."
He nods and continues towards the room, as the grinch appears in the
doorway.

Agent Scully is moving slowly, as she enters the livingroom and makes her
way towards the couch. Her hand supporting her belly, and her expression
unreadable as she glances my way. "Good morning, sir." She looks up at him
as he takes her arm and leads her over to my sofa. Clutched in her other
hand is a BP cuff and she passes it to him.

"I just took a pill a few minutes ago. I'm a little lightheaded now."

"I was going to take you home, but maybe you should lie down." What I am
watching is clearly a well rehearsed process, as he rolls up the sleave on
her shirt and wraps the cuff around it.

"Just give me a few minutes. I'll get dressed and we can go." Her head drops
into her hands as she leans forward as much as the bulk of her womb will
allow. A moment later the cuff beeps the red digital numbers announcing it's
reading.

AD Skinner looks slightly confounded. "It's a little low." He tells her the
exact numbers and waits for her response. Clearly his depth of medical
knowledge is akin to my own.

"It's low normal." She assures him reaching for her bag.

"Wait a few minutes." I tell her and then move off into the kitchen. I have
some bagels and cheese in the fridge, so I pull them out and throw them into
the toaster. This is one of the few habits that Dana and I have developed as
partners. Almost every morning I bring her in a fresh bagel with cheese and
she thanks me. To an outsider it's lame, but the routine of it all has been
somewhat comforting.

I hear hushed voices from the other room. and know that she is probably
recounting the prior evening to our boss. I'm hoping that she will leave out
the stupidity of my actions this morning. The last thing I need is a punch
in the head from Skinner, though I probably deserve it.

The bagels pop out and I throw another one in for myself before buttering
them and coating them with the cheese. I stick my finger into the thick
creamy cheese and slip it into my mouth trying to wipe away the taste of her
that still exists there. I need to forget about it. Even if this is what I
want, the truth of it is that she and I can never happen.

"Hungry?" I announce bringing the plate along with some coffee into the
livingroom. Skinner gives me an odd look, and then retrieves the mug from
the table. As my eyes comb the room.

"She's gone to change." He tells me, and then takes a deep gulp from the cup
in his hand.

"Do you think she'll be alright in there by herself?" I move towards the
door to my room and knock softly.

"She'll be okay, Agent Doggett... She doesn't need a nurse maid.." He seems
certain of this, however he was not the one sitting here reliving lamaze
training, last night. I was and I beg to differ.

A fairly self assured "I'm fine." Drifts through the thick wood door and my
concern begins to ease, yet I won't venture far from where I'm presently
standing.. I don't know what I'm waiting for. A crash? A burst of white
lights? Little gray men coming to take her baby or worse some kind of human
monster? I shake away the thoughts."She wasn't alright when she showed up
here last night."

"I know that's why I told her to come here." He looks at me something akin
to fear drifting across his face. And for the first time I wonder if he
wasn't hoping she would deliver here.

"Kath, my sister in law was here last night - she's a nurse. She said she
shouldn't be traveling and she should be in a hospital." I look at him
knowing that his hands are probably tied as mine were. He is caught between
duty and devotion.

He nods grimly and takes another sip of his coffee.

"Who is this person in Florida?"

Skinner squints at me at me for a moment usure of how much to devulge.
"She's an old friend of mine, a doctor." The look of regret on his face
tells me that at some point their relationship was more than platonic.

"I want to help. I want to be in on this." I think my words surprise him.

He points the door I'm protecting. "That's up to her Agent Doggett she is
the one making all of the dicisions here." The scowl accompanying his words
indicate that this is a fact that he is not too comfortable with.

Before I get a chance to respond, Dana Scully emerges from the room looking
a lot better than she did the evening before. Her hair is combed and the
slighlty minty smell eminating from her tells me she has brushed her teeth
as well. The grinch night shirt is gone, in leiu of a more dignified sweater
and slacks, and in her hand she is clutching the smaller of her two bags.
She has transformed much like those aliens she seems to think may exist.
She's now wearing the same look of cool detatchment that I have come to
associate with my partner. Good-bye Dana, Hello Agent Scully.

Walter Skinner rises from the couch as she makes her way across the room,
his hand reaching out to her as she passes him the bag. A slight smile
threads it's way across her face, her eyes drifting from the bagels she's to
me. For a moment I see the vulnerable woman who was here only minutes ago,
but she quickly fades into an all business persona.

The situation is clearly out of my control and I have regressed back into
merely a watcher and no longer a participant.

Our boss, grabs the other bag from the floor and heads for my front door.
The moment is ackward as we are now left to our own devices and the memories
of a moment shared in the not to distant past. She is walking towards me and
my ingrained flight or fight response has steeled me for a possible slap
upside the head from her. This is why when she throws her arms around me and
hugs me gently, it comes as something of a shock. It takes me a full heart
beat before I am willing to believe it and by this time she has pulled away.

Before she can leave I clutch at her arm. "I want to be in on this, Agent
Scully." I repeat my earlier words, but to her this time.

She nods and a shy "thank you" slips from her mouth. Then she is gone, the
front door clicking closed behind her.

The day stretches a head of me like long abandoned path threading throught
the woods. All my plans for the day have fallen by the wayside.... I need a
shower



* * * * * *

I'm fast asleep when the phone call comes, shattering me out of my dreams
like a bullet through a fresh pane of glass. I spent the day wasting time
and doing my best not to think about Dana Scully. Wanting to wash away as
much of the situation that has seemily blindsided me. I almost made one of
my trips out this evening. I felt in need of someone or something to
momentarily relieve me of everything I am feeling. But that would be
revisiting another lifetime. One which I am not sure I want to return to.

It takes me a few moments to clear the sleep from my head and clue into the
fact that it's AD Skinner's voice on the other line. A spike of cold fear
runs through me as all of my senses suddenly come online. I'm expecting to
hear something I am not going to like about my partner, but he's mumbling
something about Billy Miles and him not really being dead... I need to get
some sleep, but instead I agree to meet with him at the Hoover building.

Whatever the coroner was on it must have been good, because if there is one
thing for a fact, it is that dead men don't come back to life..



Fini