From: Kirsten Kerkhof Date: Sun, 17 Nov 2002 04:00:58 -0800 (PST) Subject: new story submission Source: direct TITLE: "In this together" AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * CLASSIFICATION: MSR KEYWORDS: S A R RATING: R for some mild sexual situations. Nothing graphic though. SPOILERS: The Truth SUMMARY: It's the start of a new life. DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Why would I be the lucky one, huh? They belong to CC, DD, GA, 1013 and Fox and no infringement is intended. I don't own Hotmail either (what a surprise ...). Rosetta and Middleton are fictional towns. When you find a town with that name, it isn't the one in this story . ARCHIVING: Sure. I'll do Gossamer myself, all others: you're welcome when you tell me where it's going, 'kay? FEEDBACK: Cherished and worshipped at HOMEPAGE: http://www.cluich.net/x-files.htm PART 1 "So, what do we do now?" I ask. I don't think I've ever felt more in place than I do now. She yawns before she can answer. Do I even need an answer? I guess my expression tells her all she needs to know. "We should try and get some sleep," she says, hiding her face against me. She's so close ... I never thought I'd ever be in a position like this. With her. It was impossible, inconceivable and, with a death sentence hanging round my neck like the proverbial mill stone, the thing I regretted most of all. Did I fear my execution? Yes, of course I did. The moment they pronounced my sentence I felt the heavens crash down on me. Did I fear death itself though? No, not the most. What I feared the most was the prospect of having to die without having shared a moment like this one with the only woman I ever truly loved. Boy, can I be dense sometimes ... For ten long years I've been taking her for granted, only to come to my senses when I was about to be executed. But no more. "Mulder, where do we go tomorrow? We can't stay here, they'll find us," she says softly. I nod as I pull her closer just a little bit. If I'd known she'd feel this good I would've done it ages ago. Or would I? I doubt whether at any point in our friendship we were as ready for this as we are now. I'm glad I waited - though I might have tried a little harder to spare her last year's traumas. What an ass- hole I have been ... "We need to find a place where we can hide," I answer. I'm surprised by the tears I see glimmering in her eyes. "Hide? For how long? All our lives?" She shakes her head. "I can't do that, Mulder. If you ask that of me I'll turn us in first thing tomorrow morning." I lean in, kissing her tears away. She's right, we can't stay in hiding forever, what sort of life would that be? She deserves so much better after all the shit she's put up with for my sorry sake and I've got to give it to her. It's my duty. It's my privilege. "We still have time to leave the continent. The twenty-four hours aren't over yet," I whisper, but I already know that is a preposterous suggestion. "And go where? There isn't a place on this earth where they can't find us," she replies. "And I don't want to leave this country, it's where I belong, where my roots are. I can't give that up." I sigh. "You're right, we can't go away. But I don't know where we can go instead." I feel her hand on my forehead, cool and soft brushing my hair away. "We need to sleep now," she whispers, her voice strangely broken, "we can't think right." And with those words she frees herself gently from my arms. She sits up and on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. Her whole posture screams exhaustion and shock. It's like a blow to the gut but I'm not surprised when I realise she's crying. In a flash I'm by her side and she literally collapses in my arms. Her sobs come hard and hitching as she cries in violent heaves that come straight from her soul. I have never seen a person cry with so much despair. I don't try to hush her or try to tell her 'everything will be okay', because I can't give her that right now. I'm a fugitive myself, an escaped prisoner with a death sentence to his name, and no matter where we go I will always be that prisoner until I'm formally acquitted. I doubt whether that is ever going to happen with the enemies I have. I'm in hell, but I've taken her with me. "I'm sorry I've dragged you into this," I whisper in her ear. I feel how my chest constricts with guilt and tears that I can't keep down. "Leave. Leave me. I can't give you anything but a life on the run. You need to go ..." I'm totally unprepared for her answer: she pulls herself away from me and the next moment I feel the agonising sting of her open hand slapping my cheek with all the power she can muster. I actually scream with the pain I feel. "Oh God, Mulder, I'm so sorry," she says before I can even look at her. One hand is over her mouth in apparent disbelief, her eyes wide in shock, while her other hand comes up to my cheek which burns with the slap. Her hand drops away almost the minute she touches it to my face. "Oh God ... I don't know what I'm doing ..." I groan, forcing out the tears that are stinging in my eyes. "Don't worry, it's nothing I didn't deserve," I say between clenched teeth. Damn, I'd forgotten that left hand of hers. "Let me look at you," she says softly, taking my face in her hands. Our eyes meet and for a long moment we don't move as our eyes do all the talking we need. Then we both burst out laughing. We're going through such a whirlwind of emotions ... "Oh, Mulder, what's happening to us?" she laughs. I grin. "We're going nuts, absolutely insane." She chuckles. "Don't worry, I've grown used to that over the past ten years." I answer with a chuckle of my own, gently stroking her hair away from her face. "You feeling a bit better now, Scully?" She smiles. "As good as can be expected I guess. Come on, we need to sleep." "In these clothes?" I ask. I feel filthy, the shame and disgust of the mock-trial seems to have seeped into the very fibres of my clothes. I want to buy a new outfit and ceremoniously burn these. "Of course not," she says, beginning to undress. "I haven't brought anything ..." "Neither have I," she says, the look in her eyes telling me she really can't be bothered about that. "Oh, all right," I shrug, feigning indifference, but my body tells me a whole different story - and one I'm not pleased about feeling. I tell myself, XxXxX I'm first to wake as the sun hits my face full force. The blinds in this motel don't do much when it comes to keeping the New Mexico sun out. I'm confused for a moment about my surroundings, thinking at first that I'm on a case again as I see the inside of just another anonymous motel room. Then I remember. I'm on the run. And I will be till the day I die. Which, if those bastards can lay their hands on me, will happen sooner than I like. I look aside, seeing her sleep. I sigh. She really shouldn't be here. After all, what do I have to offer her? But she won't go and frankly I can only rejoice that fact. I haven't seen her for a year and I never realised I could miss a person this fiercely. I don't think I spent a single night not dreaming about her. And that is including the time I spent in prison. One whole fucking year. What the hell was I thinking when I left her? I must have been mad ... I lean over and press a soft kiss on her cheek, then rise for a visit to the bathroom. I'm not pleased by what I see in the mirror. I look haggard, my eyes wild somehow. And I still have the impression of her hand on my cheek. I just hope this won't be the way I'm going to be looking for the rest of my life. I shake my head, telling myself this will all change once we're safe. Whatever way I assume that may be achieved I don't yet know. "Hey," I hear behind me. I look round and see her standing in the doorway, dressed only in her cotton panties and bra and a tired smile. Last night we both undressed to our underwear. It was no point going any further, making love was never more utterly out of the question. "Good morning," I smile, "how are you feeling?" I lift the razor to my face, beginning my transformation into something slightly more human. "Like I'm being hunted down," she quips mildly and I can't help a chuckle. "What a coincidence," I answer. She walks up to me, wrapping her arms loosely around my waist, her head resting against my shoulder, watching me shave. It feels wonderful and natural, this moment of silent companionship. "Honestly, Mulder, what do we do now?" I don't answer until I'm done shaving. It buys me some time and I need it. I sigh as I run the razor under the tap, cleaning it and then tossing it in my bag. I wipe the left-over bits of shaving cream off my face with a damp towel and make it join the razor. "I've been thinking about that," I say softly, sitting down on the edge of the bath tub. This room actually has a bath, although its size would be considered tiny even for Scully. She sits down next to me. "We need to find a place that holds a vein of magnetite naturally. That's the first thing we need to do." "The supersoldiers," she nods and frowns. "I really hate those guys." I can't help a little smile. "And we need a place to live. I don't want us to be living in motels permanently, that's no kind of life. And we don't need to do that either." She nods, but doesn't answer. Her eyes are far-away and shining with tears. I don't need a clairvoyant to know what she's thinking. "Track down William," I say very softly, voicing her thoughts, "bring him back to his parents." She takes a shuddery breath, visibly forcing herself to hold back her tears. Biting her lip, she nods, but refuses to look at me. It's no mystery why, but I don't force her to elaborate. She needs this moment for herself without me making it even harder for her. There is nothing I want to do more right now than hold her, take her back to the bed and stay there until we've both calmed down, comfort and love her, but we can't afford such luxury yet. We need to get out of here as quickly as we can. But nothing can keep me from taking care of her. And taking care of her I will. I take her face in my hands when I sense she has calmed down a bit and is ready to meet my eyes. Smiling at her, I wipe her tears away with my thumbs and kiss her briefly on the lips. "Come, take a shower while I hunt us down some breakfast. We need to get out of here, get back on the road." For a moment she doesn't react, then nods slightly, and I let go, holding her hand for as long as I can. We did the same when she was dying with cancer. Why does this moment feel so alike? XxXxX "Where are we going, Mulder? You still haven't told me." I look at her as I cross the intersection out of town. The temperature in the car is rising rapidly despite the air-conditioning and I have a feeling this will not be the most pleasant drive we have ever had. "There is a town called Rosetta, only about five hours from here, which is surrounded by mountains relatively rich in natural magnetite. Moreover the town is tiny which would help us avoid unwanted attention." She only nods. I guess she's already glad we have somewhere definite to go to instead of just aimlessly driving round the country until we find a place that welcomes us - or die trying. I take my right hand off the steering wheel to take her left hand. "I'm sorry, Scully." She gives me a tired smile. "It's okay, Mulder, I know we can't do better than this. At least we have a place to go to now. I'm glad about that." I nod. "Let's take this one step at a time. First we drive up there, find a place to spend the night, and we'll worry about the rest tomorrow, okay?" She smiles, but doesn't answer. The light squeeze of her fingers is all the answer I need. We're in this together, no chickening out now. XxXxX We pause for lunch at the Crystal Mall in a small town called Middleton, taking the opportunity to have a break and buy some new clothes. Unspoken we both felt a need to leave our old lives behind us, and on a more personal note I absolutely had to get these clothes off me. I felt like I had the words Death Sentence printed in capital letters on my back. It may have been a mock-trial that had nothing to do with any form of justice, but the result was just the same. "This looks nice," she says as she takes a pastel set from the rack. It's actually very pretty. Very girlie and soft. I suspect my expression is telling her so because she starts to laugh softly. "You should see the look on your face, Mulder." "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to seeing you pick out something as ... feminine as that." Ouch, this sounded pretty bad ... But she takes it the way I intended it to sound. "I can imagine, let me try it on." As I wait for her to get changed, I go over the events of the past few days just again. I'm feeling very ambivalent about this whole situation. On the one hand I'm incredibly glad to have her back with no intention of ever letting her go again, although that sounds as if it wasn't my fault, and I know better. On the other hand I don't think our future has ever been more uncertain. We don't know where we're going - as Rosetta is still only a name, even to me -, we are completely cut off from our past with no possibility to contact even her mother, and we will never know if someone is following us, checking our every move, just waiting for a chance to pounce like a tiger onto its prey. "It looks quite okay, doesn't it?" she says as she suddenly stands before me. I was so lost in thoughts I never saw her exit the fitting rooms. She looks stunning in it. "It's perfect. Take it." "Thanks, I think I will. I just need a pair of shoes to go with it and I'll be finished shopping for now." Shoes. I can take care of that. Feeling impulsive all of a sudden, I want to buy those for her, as a gift. I can't give her anything more substantial yet, but this I can give her and I will. She comes out of the fitting rooms, dressed once again in her dark suit that screams FBI and which I instantly hate, and walks towards the check-out counter with me following her like a sheep. But one with a plan. As we leave the store I spot a little restaurant one story up. Perfect. If I can just get her to go there, I can set out to fulfil my plan. "I ... erm ... have something to do," I tell her, getting her instantly suspicious of course. "It's nothing important, just ... an errand. You go up to that place and order us something to eat and I'll join you in a sec." "Mulder, I can't order for you," she protests, but there is more. I choose to ignore her hidden message for now. "Of course you can. You know what I like. Go on, have some lunch, you must be starving." She stands still, her hands on her hips. "No. Do you really think I'm letting you walk all alone in a crowded shopping mall where I can't see you?" "Jesus, Scully, I'm not a baby, I can take care of myself, you know," I protest. Her eyes tell me that is far from what she meant and really I should've known. "Trust me, Mulder, I know far better than to think like that. But we're not safe, not even in a mall filled with strangers. Who knows, any one of those strangers may be someone following us, just waiting to strike. I'm not leaving you, not even to have lunch. Even though I am starving," she adds with a smile. I'm somehow incredibly impressed by these words and, not caring about the afore-mentioned strangers, I draw her in for a hug and a hard short kiss. "Thanks ..." I say softly, feeling touched by her trust and devotion. Then I take her hand and we walk up the stairs to have lunch. We'll get those shoes later. XxXxX Our old clothes are somewhere in a dumpster behind the mall and if I never see them again it will be too soon. We both purchased two new outfits and some necessities like underwear and toiletries to last us until we're more or less settled. She's dressed in the outfit she bought before lunch, her other more practical set of jeans and shirt still in its shopping bag on the back seat. I bought two pairs of jeans and three basic tee shirts and a pair of sneakers. I have resolved not to wear a suit ever again until I absolutely must. I look at her as she drives along the high way. We changed drivers after our visit to the mall. I can't quite figure out her expression - and I doubt whether I'd like to know what she's thinking. She's pale and looks sad without showing the actual expression ... I think as I look ahead of me at the nearly empty road before us. I sigh. She must have heard it for she reaches out and takes my hand, our hands coming to rest on the parking break, her thumb softly stroking my hand. "We're in this together," she says softly, repeating the words I've been thinking, but never told her. It's becoming our new mantra. I rise our hands and kiss her fingers softly. "We are," I affirm her words. Then I let them rest on the break again. "Take the next exit north towards Antonica." "Okay." "It's not too far now," I say, taking the map I bought after lunch. "Maybe an hour, maybe even less." "That's good," she replies, taking the exit I indicated. "I'm beginning to feel a bit cranky." A prehistoric Chevy pulls in before us and I smile, seeing the forms of at least five children in the back of the car. It looks like there's a veritable war going on in that car. "You still adamant about having more kids, Scully?" I grin. She smiles. "Shut up, Mulder, or you won't even get to practise!" We'll be fine. XxXxX Rosetta is just what I imagined it would be. Boasting the phenomenal number of 513 people - and 259 sheep, 142 cows, 95 chickens and 131 pigs - it houses one town hall, one post office, one school, one church, one general store, and one police station, although I guess that also means one police officer who combines his job with some secondary function. If I felt anything like the guy I was when I still lived in DC, I'd probably run screaming for the - actually very impressive - hills I see behind the little town. It's so remote a conservative Aboriginal from Australia could feel lost and in urgent need for some civilisation. But it's perfect for us now. Maybe we'll move back to the city someday, but for now we just need a place to rest and reassemble the broken pieces of our lives. "I checked with the local real-estate agent's when we were in the mall," I say, " and it appears they have some properties for sale." We had gone into an Internet cafe after lunch to do a bit of quick checking-up on necessary facts. I reluctantly let Scully mail her mother from a brand- new Hotmail address she set up for just that one occasion, telling her we were both fine and that we would contact her as soon as it was safe for us to do so. And if she could, please, continue to assume we had both disappeared without a trace to buy us some more time. We couldn't afford to wait for a reply although Scully certainly tried to get me to give in. "Properties, Mulder?" she asks as she pulls into the parking lot of what appears to be the only motel in town. "We'll have to have a place to live," I answer. I thought that would be logical, but she doesn't seem to feel the same. "I mean, what ..." "Do we have money? Because I don't have enough to buy a house and besides we can't use our credit cards anymore. You said so yourself." Okay, time to confess. "I ... erm ... I took a couple of precautiary measures when I was still in hiding," I say softly as we sit in the car. "I was more or less expecting a situation like this and I realised it would probably not be such a bad idea to create new identities for the two of us. Although that death sentence even caught me by surprise." She doesn't smile at my poor attempt at a joke. "New identities?" "New names, new backgrounds, new credit cards, new everything. The Gunmen have done a pretty impressive job." I see her look out the window, biting the nail of her thumb. She looks so lost. Suddenly I'm not so certain I've done the right thing. It seemed all so logical when the guys and I prepared all this, automatically assuming she'd agree that it was the best possible solution, but I now realise she may not like this. And at the very least she won't like the fact that I seem to have given her no choices. "Scully," I say softly and she looks at me. "Let's first go get ourselves a room. Then I'll explain everything, okay?" I smile at her, drawing a weak smile from her. She looks so damn close to tears here. "Okay," she whispers, unbuckling her seat belt and getting out of the car. When we've taken our shopping bags from the back seats and locked the car, she stops me for a moment. "We're still in this together, aren't we?" "All the way," I answer and she nods. XxXxX "I need to know it all, Mulder," she says the moment I've closed the door behind us. She doesn't waste a moment. What else was I expecting anyway? I've known her long enough to know she never beats about the bush about anything. "Know what?" "Oh, come on, the new identities, the backgrounds and, most importantly, where you intend to get the money to buy us a house which I, at least, cannot afford," she answers. Her voice is firm and lets me know in no uncertain terms that the moment she suspects I'm trying to keep anything from her, no matter how small or insignificant the detail may seem, she's going to gleefully roast my balls over an open fire. I sit down on the bed and look at her as she sits in the club by the window. It's no wonder why men are so impressed by her: her appearance is naturally almost bigger than life but in an undescribable way. She cannot and will not be ignored. "When I was ... gone ... the Gunmen helped me hide, stay one step ahead of the people pursuing me. They created a new identity for me, gave me false credit cards to survive on with names that changed on an almost daily basis. It gave me one hell of a head-ache to remember what my name was every day." She smiles but her eyes urge me to go on. "I insisted they'd find a way to make us disappear as it were when we'd be together again, giving us a final new identity that we could build a life on. It had to be perfect. Whereas I'd lived with half-made identities that could be proven false by anyone with an I.Q. over that of a monkey, I needed 100% perfect identities for us. Whether or not they are that perfect I cannot tell at this early stage, but the guys did an amazing job." "They always have done," she says softly. "Go on." "I inherited my father's funds, which by itself were more than enough to cover all the expenses I would ever have, and had the guys put them on a new name, my new identity." "Your new identity." I take out my wallet and hand her my new driver's licence. She sits down on the bed next to me, studying the card. "Rob Forest," she reads. "You actually chose 'Rob'? I thought you were just joking back then." "Hey, I got to choose the names, remember?" I grin, recalling that infamous case in Florida. "Don't tell me I'm Laura." I smile, shaking my head. "No, we only changed our last names as I figured you'd like to keep your own name. Of course I didn't really want to keep mine." "So, I'm Dana Forest now?" she says softly. "Feels like I'm part of the Bold and the Beautiful." I can't help a little laugh. "I'm glad you like your name. I've got credit cards, a driver's licence and everything you'll need in your new name. All courtesy of the guys of course. We even have William covered." She's silent, looking at my driver's licence and turning it over and over. She slowly shakes her head and I see tears trickle down her cheeks when she looks at me. "Who am I now, Mulder?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She sounds so desperate, so lost. "Have I lost my past now? Have we both?" I hug her close to me, pressing a lingering kiss in her hair. "No, you will always have your past and we will keep it alive," I whisper. "We will find a way to keep in touch with your Mom, you deserve that. And to me you'll always be Scully ..." It looks like that last comment was the perfect thing to say because when she lifts her face to look at me, she's smiling again. "So we're a married couple now?" I feel my heart skip a beat at her words. "At least ... at least on paper, yeah ..." "We're not wearing rings. People in such a small community are going to wonder if we don't, tales will spread," she says. "Do you have rings?" I shake my head. "I knew there was a flaw in the plan," I say cowardly, trying to hide the emotions inside me. In fact I have thought about buying rings and more than once too, but I couldn't do it. The merest notion of having Dana Scully as my wife, be it real or fake, seemed like such a far-fetched idea that I just couldn't do it. But she is right. If we plan on posing as a married couple we need rings. We are silent, both occasionally glancing at the other, then looking away again. I open my mouth to speak twice, but nothing comes out and it seems she feels the same. What the heck is going on here? Why can't we discuss this? In the end we handle the discomfort the way we have handled such situations for the past nine years: we pretend it didn't happen. In short, we chicken out. As always. "Erm, let's see if there's a place where we can eat," I say, getting up from the bed. She looks almost visibly relieved about being let off the hook. "Yeah, let's," she says a bit too quickly and too eagerly. We are going to have to discuss this situation, and soon too, but not right now. We're too tired and too emotional for this discussion now. Really we are. Aren't we? XxXxX It's nearly midnight now and we still haven't discussed the ring-matter. Over dinner both of us steadfastedly tip-toed round the subject and it hasn't been talked about yet. She's in the other room right now, though why we took separate rooms I honestly don't know. That's going to change right now. I take the plastic bag from my bed and knock on the connecting door, not waiting for her answer. It's just a formality really. She's on the bed and, judging from her curled-up, completely still form, fast asleep. That's good, she needs her rest, she's been through so much. All courtesy of Yours Truly. Can't say I'm proud of it ... I quietly sit the bag on the floor next to the bed and take off my sneakers. Then I lie down behind her, spooning her. Ah man, I love her so much ... I bury my nose in her hair, fresh from the shower. She's so perfect to hold. "Mulder?" she says softly, her voice a bit rough with sleep. "Shh, go back to sleep," I murmur. "Mulder, what are you doing here?" "Sleep. With you. That's all." I curl my arms a bit tighter round her waist under her tee shirt. She's dressed in just her underwear and one of the tee shirts she bought at the mall. "In your jeans? You can't sleep in those." "You'd be surprised at how often I've done exactly that," I smile and I hear her gentle chuckle. "Go on, undress while I make a bit more room," she replies, rolling over when I sit up and get off the bed. When I too have undressed to my tee shirt and boxershorts, I join her again. It appears she wants to talk. And I don't. "What are we going to do now?" she asks, but I shake my head. "Scully, we need to sleep," I tell her instead. "We've been through hell and God knows what lies ahead still. We need to get all the rest we can get. Let's save that discussion for the morning, okay?" "No, I need to know." I sigh. There is no denying her when she's determined. "Okay. First we're going to check out those properties I found on the web. I can't imagine they're all gone already, this town doesn't seem a high-demand neighbourhood to me. Then, when that's settled, I figured we could either go to the house or, if that is impossible, at least do a bit more shopping. Actually, all I really want to do now is relax. I feel like I'm balancing on some kind of cliff and I sure as hell refuse to fall over it." She nods. "Me too. So, your father left you enough money to buy a house, didn't he?" "Forty million dollars in liquid assets. It's a numbered off-shore account. I have another twenty to liquidate if need be, but I decided to leave that where it is now until such needs arrive." Her eyes have gone quite wide. "Mulder, that is ..." I shrug slightly. "... quite a hefty bit of cash, I know." "But ... wouldn't you want to save that? How can you ... just ..." "... spend it, you mean?" I finish for her. She nods and I smile, kissing her briefly on the lips. "It's my father's bloodmoney, Scully, ill-gotten through his nefarious activities in the secret government. If anything it cost Samantha her life. I'm not proud of owning it, but I'm not going to just let it sit there when we have such good uses for it. It's ours to spend, no one is coming to get it." She smiles a bit sadly. "We could give William a really good education with that," she says softly. "And we will," I say. Then I smile. "In the meantime, you fancy a car?" To her credit, she laughs, even when my comment was hardly the best timing ever. "I fancy some sleep." I gather her to me. "I can do that, too." XxXxXxXxXxX PART 2 We're in our house. Crying. Both of us. We arrived here about an hour ago after a visit to Mullane Real Estate on 24 Church Street, Rosetta. The decision about which place to get was quick and easy, as was the actual transaction. No mortgage necessary - which surprised the lovely old lady who served us quite a bit - thanks to good old dad and his cash. After being told that the house was now ours to do with whatever we liked, we decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea to actually check what I'd just spent about half a million dollars on. The six-bedroom house is gorgeous, let me get that straight first. It is furnished in a beautiful simple style that combines the rural and the urban in a surprisingly tasteful way and it has all the modern amenities we could ever need. The kitchen is surprisingly modern in style with appliances that would make a chef drool with desire. The living room is tastefully decorated, the dining room fitted with a fantastic cherry dining set and the two bathrooms have more luxury items than a Hilton luxury suite. And the master bedroom, well, that is worthy of a paragraph of its own. I never ever expected to find such luxuries in a small town in the rural south. And in this fantastic bedroom we are now. On the bed, crying our eyes out. I once read that, after an earthquake or some other major catastrophe, the worst thing one can do is tell the victims who have just been found but are still buried under the rubble that 'they are fine now' and 'that they'll be taken care of now'. People have been known to survive for weeks and then literally die under the hands of their rescuers, just moments away from being rescued. It's the sudden deflation in adrenaline. Those people knew they no longer had to fight to get the attention of the rescue workers, which was when the lack of nourishment and the injuries they'd sustained could take over, literally draining them of life. We're going through a similar experience it seems. We're safe now, we can begin to build a new life as Rob and Dana Forest, living in Rosetta, with a beautiful house and a lovely son (though we still have to find the son in question) and no worries in the world. It's driven us over the edge. We seem to calm down relatively at the same time, our frantic embrace loosening, our deep sobs slowly becoming more superficial, further apart. I'm not about to let go of her but at last I find I can look at her again. Which is the exact same moment she chooses to look at me. We're so in sync it's almost scary. "What's happening to us?" she whispers, using the back of her left hand to wipe at the tears on her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, her nose is running and she's still sniffling. I have never seen her this adorable. "We're cracking up," I answer lightly, trying to lift the mood. I'm not about to imagine this will be easy, but I refuse to let the changes that are forced upon us, depress us. We have too much to do and too little time to do it in. "Hey, been there, done that," she quips, nestling into my chest. I wrap my arms around her, sitting up and resting my head on top of hers. "That's my line, Scully," I smile and I hear her chuckle. "No, *you* have bought the t-shirt," she counters and I actually have to laugh. It makes her laugh as well. "That's right. How could I have forgotten?" It's an answer that apparently deserves a kiss in her opinion as she reaches up and kisses me softly on the lips, a bit awkwardly because of the position she's in, but sweet and loving all the same. "So, what next?" She sighs softly. "Much as I'd love to stay in bed with you, we really need to do some grocery shopping. The fridge is empty, the cupboards are empty and I'm beginning to develop an appetite." I sigh with a smile. I was enjoying our newly-found intimacy, but she is right. "All right, Dana, let's go find a supermarket." "All right, Rob," she answers, her eyes twinkling. Ouch, this is going to take some getting used to, I fear ... XxXxX The pyromaniac in me - which is amazing considering my fear of fire - has been temporarily satisfied as we sit on the shag carpet in front of the living room fire. We know it's summer and we really don't need a fire, but we wanted one. And what's stopping us, right? We've been out shopping all afternoon. I think it's properly called retail therapy. Well, whatever the terminology, it has calmed us down and brought us back to earth again. The house came fully furbished, but we browsed the aisles of the SuperWalmart we found about forty minutes away in Antonica and got some things that were missing. We'll get some nice furniture and other accessories later when we find some decent stores. Plus, of course, the necessary groceries we needed to stock the fridge and cupboards with. Our arrival has not gone unnoticed. We were glad to see that the people of Rosetta didn't crowd us, even when they acknowledged us and came up to us. They appear to be friendly people, unused to newcomers, but determined to make them feel welcome when they do come. No rulebooks to follow though and a basketball hoop in the front garden is considered tacky but acceptable if that is what we want. I'm glad. Not that I really want that hoop, but the idea I'm reliving our nightmare in Arcadia is diminishing by the minute. People seem to have accepted the new couple, Rob and Dana Forest, into their community. "I feel good," I hear her say and I nod. "Yeah, me too." Once again we fall silent. We listen to the lively crackle of the wood as it burns in the fireplace, adding unnecessary heat but much-desired warmth to the room. She's sitting more or less sideways in the V of my legs, her head under my chin, my arms around her. She's holding the tattered heirloom doll in her hands, loosely but affectionately. I never expected the powerful emotions that went through me when I saw her unwrapping the doll, a pillow case carefully folded around it. I think it's the only thing she brought from her old life, our old lives. "So, erm, what about those rings?" she says. "We haven't made up our minds about those yet." "No, we haven't," I agree. "Do you think people noticed we weren't wearing rings though we did introduce ourselves as a married couple?" "I guess at least some of them noticed. But perhaps they were thinking it was some newfangled city-thing they hadn't heard of. You know, being married but not wearing rings. People know we're from the city, although they think we're from New York." "Mm-mm. We, erm ..." She stops then, apparently changing her mind about whatever it was she was going to say. "Never mind." "What?" I press, instantly curious. She looks down at the doll in her hands, her fingers tracing the crude but dear features of the face. I used to dislike the doll, thought it amateurish and ugly, but recently I have grown to like it, have even become fond of it, and even more so since I gave it to Scully. "We ... well, we could get married," she says softly. "We just need to buy those rings, we are already married," I smile. "I know, Rob and Dana Forest," she says softly, looking up at me. Her eyes are dark and I can't quite read them. "But I'm not talking about them." Realisation dawns at last. That sure took a while - and some people call me smart ... "You're talking about us," I say softly, the idea making my heart constricting and opening right at the same time. Oh God, yes ... She looks down at the doll again. "I am," she whispers. I actually have to strain to hear it, but there's no mistaking her words. Then she looks up to meet my eyes again, apparently eager to see my reaction. There is no way she can be disappointed. "There's nothing I would love more," I answer, completely earnest. "Really?" she says. "Are you really sure? I'm not an easy woman to be with, Mulder, I'm not easy to love ..." "And neither am I," I smile, "but somehow we're both doing a pretty damn fine job of loving each other, of being with each other." She smiles, not looking at me. "We have never lived together, just spent a lot of company time together. We don't really know that much about each other." Her protests, though sweet, sound pretty ridiculous to me. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Scully?" I grin. "Trying to get me to change my mind? To refuse your offer? To make me say 'Hey, I just spent ten years with a fantastic woman whom I totally admire and adore and who has voluntarily gone through hell and back for my sorry ass, but, hey, first I want to know everything about her'? You must be joking!" She chuckles, resting her weight against me. It's a gesture of uninhibited trust and love and it seriously moves me. "I'm just giving you a way out," she smiles. "Scully, all I have ever wanted was a way in," I snicker. "I've loved you virtually from day one, but just in case you never noticed, I tend to chicken out at crucial moments. God knows it has cost me some nights' sleep, wondering if I would see the day coming when some guy stole you away from me, just because I was too much of a coward to tell the woman I loved that I wanted her to be with me." "You have always loved me?" I nod. "I fell in love with you right there in Bellefleur, Oregon. I couldn't help myself even though I wasn't happy about loving you. I thought you were my down-fall, I felt like I was sleeping with the enemy." "We weren't sleeping with each other," she smiles. "And you weren't my enemy as I soon discovered," I add, kissing her softly on the crown of her head. "Though I must say I was pretty proud of myself when you stripped right in front of me and I managed to hold myself in check. I thought I was going to explode with desire right on the spot." "I ... I didn't love you back then, you know," she says softly. "I liked you, but I didn't love you until about six months later ..." "So?" "Well, it's ... it's not like ..." I laugh softly. "I'm glad you're telling me this, but don't worry about it. After ten years those six months are not something I really care much about." "You should." "Nope, I should not. And I do not. I've been in love with you for ten years and you've been in love with me for nine and a half. Seems like a long enough time to me." "Yes, it does, doesn't it?" I smile. "Of course it does." I make her look at me, then cup her face in my hands and kiss her, softly but earnestly. I love kissing her, she just gives herself so completely to me; every last bit of the enigmatic, intriguing person she is, she offers to me to unravel and discover. Her left hand lands on my cheek, her right hand on my left hand. I've closed my eyes, but it wasn't something I did consciously. Someone once warned me against women who are keeping their eyes open when they kiss, supposedly because that would mean their heart wasn't in it, but I don't have to worry about that with Scully. I once pried my eyes open mid-kiss just to check, but it seemed she was as carried away by our kiss as I was. I know the happiness I felt at that moment must have seeped into our kiss because it was a damn good one. Call it the one benefit of a eidetic memory: I can recall every single kiss Scully and I ever shared. There isn't a bad one among them. Some of them are sweet and tender, some of them are joyous and full of happiness. Others are relieved and emotional, a reinforcement of our bond after an ordeal we survived. And then there is the category of hot and passionate. We have made love with our kisses. Hot mad love, and all we did was kiss. But, God, what kisses they were ... "So," I smile, when we finally manage to part, "marry me?" She nods and smiles. "Absolutely," she says firmly. I laugh. I just have to laugh, it feels so good. It appears my laughter is infectious when I see and hear her join in. Our combined laughter is a wonderful sound. Beautiful, natural, perfect. I draw her closer, making her legs fold around my waist so we can sit touching each other. Now that I have her I can't let her go again. I feel like I'm going to have to keep touching her for the rest of my life, continuously, or go stark raving mad with the loss. I'm getting sappy and corny in my old age. We keep kissing and touching each other and I can't say I'm complaining. "You know, the master bedroom has a really gorgeous four-poster bed," she suddenly says between two kisses. "Really big and soft too." I smile. "You sure you're ready for this?" I say nevertheless. I am more than ready, but this needs to be something we both really want or I'll never forgive myself. She snickers. "Mulder, when I saw that bed for the first time, I nearly threw you down on top of it and gave in to my desire so hard you wouldn't be seeing straight for a year. You have no idea how much self- restraint was involved to keep my hands off you. So, to answer your question, yes, I'm ready." "Really? I can - ..." "How do you feel about being on top?" she interrupts me, her eyes dark and wanton. "Scully, you don't need to - ..." "Or do you prefer being on the bottom?" she smiles, smothering my protest in a hot kiss. I give up. What the hell am I doing here anyway? This woman wants me and I want her so badly and she's not even letting me change her mind. Why am I trying to make her do? God, if she wants to make love with me, why would I want to stop her? I smile at her, a smile she returns with a toothy one of her own. Then we rise and, hand in hand, we walk to the bedroom, as comfortably as going to work. XxXxX Her head is resting on my chest, her hair fanned out across it as she listens to my still thundering heartbeat. I'm afraid this particular smile on my face will have to be removed surgically or it'll never go away. Man, this was a good round ... "I'm hungry," she murmurs. "Though I'd just taken care of that," I can't help teasing her. "For food, silly man," she chides gently, lifting her head off my chest to look at me. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. "Oh." She laughs, rising up on all fours. "Come, let's hunt down something to eat. We bought enough to feed an entire orphanage, there must be some left." I sit up slowly, stretching as I do so. There's no work- out like sex. And especially not if that sex involves Dana Scully. She has already got off the bed, making no moves to put on any clothes as she walks towards to the bedroom door, just the slightest bit wobbly. She assured me I didn't hurt her and I believe her, but I'm rather pleased to see our love-making has left some traces. Speaking of traces, I sit still when I realise it: she could be pregnant again. It's highly unlikely, but she could be. Oh wow ... I would really really love that. Then I get up off the bed and follow her towards the kitchen, equally naked. If she's not going to bother about getting dressed, then why should I? When I enter the kitchen she's already found some rolls and is enthusiastically munching away on them. "I always get hungry after sex," she mumbles around the food in her mouth. I smile. "I can tell. You left anything for me?" "Plenty." I bend over to take out the carton of orange juice, not missing a light hitch in her breathing. When I straighten up again I see the darkened look in her eyes as the roll has been granted a temporary reprieve. I smile knowingly but keep quiet, drinking the juice straight from the carton. "Did you do that on purpose, Mulder?" she asks, once again chewing on the roll, popping the last bite in her mouth. "Do what on purpose?" "You know, bend over ..." Busted. But that was exactly what I wanted, wasn't it? I suck in a hard breath when I feel her stand behind me, her breasts and belly soft against my back. Her hands are low on my hips, circling softly, slowly, occasionally straying to my butt. "You have a really nice ass, you know that?" she says, her voice low. "Have I really?" "Mm-mm," she replies, her lips touching the upper vertebrae of my spine ever so lightly. I feel goosebumps rise all over my body. And they're not the only things to rise. "I noticed your ass from the moment you showed me those slides when we first met. I tried to focus on them, tell you what I thought those swellings were, but it wasn't easy." She nips lightly on the sensitive skin of my neck and I moan. My hands are clenched in tight fists as I try to exert some control. "You have the greatest ass in the world." "If you want sex, you can just ask, Scully, no need to torture me first," I grunt. She laughs, her hands moving to my lower abdomen. Yeah, just a little lower, baby, that would be perfect, I think. "This isn't torture, Mulder, I'm just telling you the truth." "In case you never noticed, the truth can be torture all by itself," I reply, my voice breathy and uneven. "Now that is true," she smiles. From her position behind me, she walks round and grabs my hand, literally dragging me back to the bedroom, grinning all the way. Hey, don't worry, baby, I ain't going nowhere without you ... XxXxX We've been in Rosetta for almost three weeks now and so far we seem to have settled in nicely. Our house is a little out of the way and visitors are relatively rare, but that's really what we want anyway. We have been careful not to appear too distant though and Scully has already joined a church picnic group, displaying more enthusiasm over the group than I ever expected. Or, for that matter, than she herself ever expected. I have made contact with a small group of men who have set up an art group. I have always loved art, but my job just never allowed me to give in. But, with daddy's cash and plenty of time on my hands, I have decided to indulge. The morning after our first night in the house we had a long talk about the future. Because, no matter whether or not there was going to be an alien invasion in ten years, we still had those ten years - and we had a lot of lost time and chances to make up for. In the afternoon we went shopping for new clothes. We still had only the two outfits we'd so hurriedly purchased at the mall in Middleton, and those weren't going to last. I was amazed to realise that Scully actually hates shopping for clothes and shoes. I'd always, rather automatically, assumed that she would love it, like all women I'd ever known. But then again, she isn't anything like the women I'd known and really I should have known. Our brandnew engagement nearly crashed over the choice of a jumper - which I liked but she didn't; we didn't get it - but in the end our closets looked relatively well-stocked again. I have no suits and neither does she and we're loving it. I'm home alone right now. It's nearly five in the afternoon and Scully has gone into town for a meeting. The church picnic is next Sunday after Mass and she's volunteered to take care of the salads. Ah yes, well, that is exactly up her alley. I'm browsing the Web, looking for anything that might possibly relate to the upcoming alien threat and any precautions that can be taken. I also look for William, but I only do that when she's home so she can help me. I know she's very worried and I've caught her crying softly more than once when she thought I wasn't looking. At first she tried to hide her tears from me as she had done for so long, but soon enough she let me in. I'm so glad because I feel her pain more acutely than I ever thought possible. I have hardly known him at all, but he is still my child and I want him back so much ... We have grown into our new identities nicely. So far we haven't made any attempts at getting new jobs, but the people in town know exactly what Rob and Dana Forest have done for a living: I'm a former police officer who, after receiving a large inheritance, has decided to quit law-enforcement, and my wife is a nurse who has given up her job after having had cancer. We decided that such identities would be relatively safe, especially as Scully can now administer professional First Aid when necessary without raising too many eyebrows. My alleged background as a senior police officer has already gained me the trust of good sheriff Jean-Luc Lafèbre and has given me unexpected access to some police information I never thought I could ever access again after fleeing from the capital and leaving the resources of the Bureau and the Gunmen behind. I hear the front door opening downstairs and I rise from the desk, leaving the room we have converted into our office and walking down the stairs to greet my partner. "Hey, how did it go?" She smiles as she takes off her light summer coat and hangs it in the closet. "Quite well. If things go the way we're planning, this year will be a new record." I bend down for a soft lingering kiss. "That's good to hear. Paul called me about an hour ago, they're meeting tonight at Emery's house and asked if you'd like to come as well. All the guys are bringing their wives and as you still have to meet the Ansems, I thought this might be a good occasion." "I'd love to," she says as she weaves our fingers together. Ah, she feels so perfect in my arms. "Have you had any luck?" I shake my head. "None whatsoever. But we'll keep searching. Maybe sheriff Lafèbre can help me out with something." "Don't put too much trust in him," she says with a frown. "We're still in danger." I nod, resting my forehead against hers, and sigh softly. "I know. It's hard sometimes, isn't it?" She doesn't answer, instead strokes my cheek with her hand. Yeah, baby, I know. "How about William?" she whispers. "I wanted to wait until you were home." She lets out a shuddery breath and I swear I can hear a sob in the middle. "Sometimes ... sometimes I think we're never going to find him ..." I want so much to tell her that we will find him and that we will get him back, but I can't make her such promises. Instead I kiss her softly on the place where only seconds ago her forehead touched mine. "I know, I'm scared, too." We remain in this embrace for a little longer before we finally let go. "I've already put the chicken breasts in the marinade," I say, "dinner should be ready in no time." She smiles. "That's great. You know, I told Annie about you. She's so jealous that I've got a man who actually does work around the house." "Her husband doesn't do anything at all?" I'm amazed. "No, though I think that's also because she's not giving him a chance to learn. I doubt whether he has ever done as much as boil an egg for himself. She just won't let him try." "No wonder he's given up," I deadpan, making her smile a bit more. "Now I, on the other hand ..." I waggle my eyebrows and she chuckles. "Ooo, be still my heart," she grins, winking. XxXxX "You know what I'd really like to do?" I say round a mouthful of chicken. Time for a little lesson in manners I guess ... "What?" "Have our picture taken." She looks predictably surprised. "You want us to have our picture taken? But you hate such things." I shrug. "Well, I did, but ... things have changed and ..." "And what?" She's genuinely interested. Or intrigued. And probably both. "We haven't contacted your mom since the day we fled amidst all the stress and chaos and horror and ... well, I thought she might like to have a picture of the two of us." "In case you never noticed, she has plenty of photos of us," she smiles, spearing a baby carrot and putting it into her mouth. "Well, yes she does, but they're all action pictures, taken in the field or on one of those exceedingly rare occasions we visited her home together. I want to have some really nice professional ones taken. And not only for her, but also for us." I pause for a moment. "We may not have as much time left as we once thought and ... I just don't want us to have any regrets." She places her hand on top of mine. "I'd love it." "Really?" She nods, smiling widely. "Yes, really." I grin. "Great!" Exchanging smiles we eat in silence for a little while, but then Scully breaks the silence. "The library in town needs new volunteers," she says, putting down her knife and fork. "I'm thinking of applying. It'll be nice to have a bit of regularity in my life again, get in contact with people." I nod. "You should do it. You know, for all we know you could become the head of their medical department." She laughs. "Mulder, the medical department at the Rosetta Public Library consists of two outdated volumes on how to administer First Aid and a dusty old book on the human body which I bet no one has as much as touched for at least the past two decades." I grin. "It was worth a try," I say and I get a lovely smile for it. "I'll go by the library tomorrow," she says. Then her smile fades. "What?" "Aren't you ... aren't you feeling bad that I'm living off your money now, Mulder?" she says softly. "It's voluntary work, I won't be bringing any money home, you know." I reach over and rest her face in my hand, making her look at me. "Don't feel bad about it, sweetheart." "But I do," she protests. "I can't help it." "Scully, if bringing home a pay check will make you feel better, then I won't stop you from getting a normal job, but you really don't need to. We're living off my father's money and you really don't want to know the pain and horror that was involved in his getting it. So many people have suffered and he knew all about it. It's my money now, but I just can't distance myself from its horrible past and I really can't get rid of it quickly enough. If we can use this money for something good, for our benefit, then maybe those people can find some peace after all." She nods slightly, her eyes glimmering. I smile, caressing her lips with my thumb. They pucker under my touch, kissing me so softly I would never have felt it if I hadn't become so attuned to her kisses by now. "There just isn't a better goal for it, than invest it in our happiness," I continue. "And moreover, it's a whopping great chunk of cash, which we won't be able to spend all even if we tried," I add with a lopsided smile. "Are you absolutely certain about that?" she smiles. I laugh. "Scully, I'd take you on a hedonistic shopping spree if only you'd let me." She looks at me for just a second. Then she smiles widely. "So, why aren't you?" I can't deny I'm just a touch amazed. Dana Scully wants a shopping spree? The modest, no-nonsense Dana Scully actually wants to go round and go mad spending money? I can arrange that, no problem! "You want a shopping spree?" She blushes adorably. "Well ... I have never ... had a chance yet ..." "Then we should do it," I say. "Book a really nice hotel room - and I mean really nice - in a big city somewhere, hit the designer boutiques. Or how about Las Vegas? See some shows, do a bit of gambling, live the high life?" "I don't gamble, Mulder," she says sternly and I shrug light-heartedly. "Okay, we'll skip the gambling. There's plenty more to do in Vegas." We rise from the table, quickly and efficiently clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, all the time just wildly brainstorming about how we can best get rid of my old man's cash as quickly as possible. I'm loving every second of it. It's not until we're sitting on the couch with a glass of wine each, that we finally calm down a bit. "You know, I promised the guys we'd be at Emery's tonight. Are we still going?" She nods. "Of course we are. What time?" "Nine-ish," I reply. "Not too early. After all it's Sunday tomorrow. No work for any of us." "It's Mass at nine o'clock," she says softly. "They'll probably want to wake up in time for that." I look at her profile, quiet and serene. "Scully, does it bother you that ... I'm never joining you to church?" She turns to look at me. "No, it doesn't," she says softly, but earnestly. "I won't deny that I sometimes miss you, but you wouldn't be happy there and I hate to see you unhappy." There is more and we both know it, but religion - organised religion at least - has always been the one topic that could cause friction between us, and it's not worth it. It's good as it is now, leaving the issue like this, even when it's less than fulfilling. "So, we're going on a shopping vacation then, aren't we?" She chuckles. "It's a deal." I smile, scooting a bit closer to her, hugging her to me. It grows so beautifully silent we can hear the church bell toll eight. Eight o'clock and all's well. XxXxXxXxXxX PART 3 I look at this journal and realise it has been more than a month since I last added to it. Trust me, life has been good for us. We have really settled in by now, become fully- fletched citizens of Rosetta. Scully has volunteered to be the secretary of the Church Picnic Club and has gotten the job at the library, though I never doubted her chances for a second. I am still without work or occupation, except for my Internet based quest, seeking out William and a solution for the alien threat, which I can now devote all my time to. It's as perfect as can be. Scully and I are slowly beginning to accept the fact that William may be forever lost to us. Not that we will ever stop searching, but we have not had even the slightest hints in what direction to look. Nothing at all. On the night we came to that conclusion, we also talked about trying for another child. We decided not to. We're not taking any precautions when making love, as we know we're both clean health-wise and a child would always be welcome, but we're not really going for a baby. Today, however, we have reached a monumental stage in both our lives. We arrived at Maggie Scully's house earlier today for a very special reason: we are getting married tomorrow. Yes, I know, it still dazes me, too. Maggie, of course, was ecstatic to see us again. It's been two months since we escaped and while our guard is still up, we have decided that it would be inhuman to keep her mom out of our lives. We have arranged with Father McCue to marry us in the little chapel where all the Scully-kids were baptised. It will just be Scully, myself and Maggie. Two friends of Maggie's are our witnesses. You can call it impersonal, but we need the anonimity. And we really don't want a big wedding anyway. We have had so much going on in our lives for the past ten years, we just want some peace and quiet and be happy without too much fuss. I have seen the outfit she'll be wearing. Hell, we went to buy it together. I don't believe in that crap about bad luck if the groom sees the dress before the wedding day. We have had more than our share in bad luck, thank you very much, and we were not letting some silly superstition ruin a wonderful day shopping for our wedding outfits. I'll be wearing a dark grey suit, while she has chosen a creamy white suit with gorgeous ivory white silk shoes. We both decided against a wedding dress as being too over the top. Not that we didn't visit some bridal shops, mainly to see their, surprisingly meagre, choice in suits, but also because Scully did want to try on some dresses. A little girl's fantasy, she said, almost apologetically. She looked downright stunning in some of the gowns she tried on, but I still like her suit best. For a wedding bouquet we chose a gorgeous single white orchid. It's a flower aptly called "Dana" and it somehow really reflects her beauty. And our honeymoon? Well, remember that shopping spree I promised her? We're going to hit Vegas, corny as it may sound. Scully has taken leave from the library for three weeks, even though we don't plan on being away nearly that long. But we are free to go wherever we want to go and whenever we want to go there. We are going to let each day decide where we're going and live as care-free as we possibly can. And if we end up spending the entire three weeks on a beach in Maui, then you won't hear me complaining either. "Hey, honey, how are you doing?" I hear Maggie's gentle voice behind me. I turn round and smile. "I'm fine, Maggie, just thinking," I answer. She puts her arm round my waist and I follow suit, wrapping my arm round her shoulder and drawing her in. God, the strength these Scully women pack, it's just unbelievable. No wonder her daughter grew into such a formidable woman. It must be in the genes. "It's so good to have you back, sweetheart," she says softly. "I missed you both so much." I swallow heavily, but the lump in my throat doesn't go away. "We missed you too. I'm so sorry we didn't get in touch sooner ..." "Darling, that e-mail on the day of your disappearance, I treasure it still, brief as it may have been. You had no choice, you and Dana." I sigh. "Maybe so, but we could have tried a little harder ..." "No, you couldn't," she says softly. "You shouldn't blame yourselves, you don't have anything to be ashamed of." Oh God, I think I'm gonna cry in a second ... I engulf her in a big hug, infinitely grateful for having her. Those mother-in-law jokes, I really don't get them ... "Hey, can I join in?" I hear Scully say. I look up and nod. "Sure," I say and I hold out one arm in invitation. She moves easily into our embrace. I look down at her and smile. She responds warmly. I want to kiss her, but not with her mother on the same square foot of ground. It'll have to wait. "Is everything ready?" Maggie asks, her voice suspiciously soft. Scully and I nod. "I think so," I answer. "There really isn't a lot to be prepared for the ceremony anyway and after the wedding we'll be leaving pretty soon." Maggie nods, trying her best to hide a sigh I can hear anyway. Scully, too, has a faraway look in her eyes that is hard to mistake. "When I was a kid I dreamed of a big wedding," she says softly. I feel my heart break. Right, just another dream of hers demolished, I think, I'm beginning to look like a pro. "With a huge white wedding dress and ten bridesmaids and flower girls and a massive cake and all the other stuff that went with a big fairytale wedding ..." "I'm sorry ..." I whisper, mentally kicking myself so hard I can actually feel the pain. "I'm sorry for taking away another of your dreams ..." She sighs but shakes her head. "Don't be, Mulder, you couldn't help any of the current situation. And I'm already glad I've got you back. I thought I'd never get married anyway." I frown. "What do you mean? There are so many men just waiting for a woman like you. You could have had any guy." I'm dead serious. Look, I know she loves me and I know she wants to be with me, but that doesn't mean I've suddenly become the perfect bloke for her. Far from it actually. She smiles weakly. "I only wanted you, even when I knew you were dead. It's hard to love another when you've fallen in love as deeply as I had." I take my arm from Maggie's back and hug my beloved partner to me. Oh God, how can people possibly not believe in true love? My heart feels so big it's choking me - or it could be that I'm nearly breaking down with the emotions. I decide I don't care about her mother now, because I need to kiss her so badly I'm nearly screaming with it. Sex is out of the question at Maggie Scully's house, but I can kiss my partner and, my God, I will. Our kiss is on the brief side, though. It isn't that great to kiss when you have an audience ... "You want some privacy?" I hear Maggie smile and I grin, looking at Scully, who waggles her eyebrows in response. "Nah, it's okay," I say, drawing her closer. "By all means, don't let me stop you," Maggie smiles, turning away. I place my hand on her shoulder, stopping her and she turns to me, her expression puzzled. I lean in and kiss her on her cheek. "Thanks for everything, Mom," I say and I swear I can see something melt in her gentle eyes. "Always, honey," she says softly before she walks towards the kitchen. I think I just got a few years off Purgatory. XxXxX This journal is drawing to a close and that's fine. I'm sitting on the porch of a little beach house we rented two days ago as part of our honeymoon, waiting for Scully to return from the sea. She wanted to go for a swim and unfortunately I can't join her right now. You want to know the reason why? All right: I sprained my ankle yesterday and the tape they put on my ankle for support shouldn't get wet today. I was pretty annoyed when I realised I couldn't go swimming, but maybe it was meant to be. After all, there is no such thing as coincidence. And at least I can now finish my journal. I can't help but smile as I consider what to write next. There really is but one thing that hasn't been mentioned yet: we did get married. Yep, I'm an old married man now. And pretty damn happy about it, too. Our wedding went as smoothly as we could have wished for. Father McCue performed the ceremony, wonderfully personalised, and Maggie and her church friends had decorated the little chapel beautifully. And as for Scully, well, I know we went to buy her outfit together so I knew what she'd be looking like, but ... she looked out of this world. How appropriate, huh? She was so incredibly beautiful I can't even put it in words. Of course it never hurt her case that I practically worship her. I want to write more about it, but I've just spent nearly fifteen minutes between this line and the one that went before it, just because I can't write down what I feel. Words are simply not powerful enough, there are no terms in the English language that could convey the intense feelings of happiness and joy that I feel whenever I think about that day. And about us. We haven't found William yet. Maybe we never will. I hope he's happy where he is now, and perhaps in eighteen years or so he'll find us. He will be so welcome. But if he decides not to contact us for whatever reason he may have, then I will be fine with that, too. I look up from this journal when I hear foot steps approaching and see my wife walking up the decking towards me, drying her hair with her towel. "Hey, how was the water?" I smile. She smiles back, sitting down beside me. "Wonderful. I feel all fresh and fit again." She looks at this journal as it lies open in my lap. "How is your journal coming along?" "I want to finish it," I say, closing it. "I have no need for it anymore." "You sure?" she says, frowning. I smooth out the lines on her brow with my fingers. "Absolutely," I answer, drawing her into me. "Mmm, you're nice and cool." She rubs her hand over my thigh. "Mmm, you're nice and hot," she whispers and I grin, not missing her beat. "Want me to do something about it?" "I can't go for a swim yet," I answer, but I'm not serious about this answer. And of course she knows it. "Damn," she says, grinning. Then she shrugs. "Well, if that is the case then I'll have to resort to other measures, I guess." We look at each other, smiling knowingly. We get to our feet and then, catching her by surprise, I lift her up and carry her into the house. My journal remains lonely and forgotten on the porch. It's official. We have started a new life. THE END Kirsten Kerkhof The Netherlands (c) 17 November 2002