Title: "Marry Our Fortunes"
Author: Alicia K.
Feedback:  All feedback, including constructive 
criticism, welcomed at spartcus1@msn.com
Rating: R for R-type stuff, including language and 
sexual situations
Category:  Post-colonization, Mulder/Other, Angst, 
major character already dead
Spoilers: The first story took off right after the 
movie, so nothing after that ever happened.
Summary: Sequel to "Looking For America."  Kate and
Mulder arrive in Vancouver, only to be used again as
pawns in the game.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, not a chance I 
have any money to be sued for.
Distribution: Please do not archive without 
permission.

If you haven't read "Looking For America," this will 
probably make no sense to you.  It can be found here:  
http://luperkal.simplenet.com/AliciaK/America.txt


Author's Notes and Thanks at the end.

XXX

"Marry Our Fortunes"
by Alicia K.


We crossed the border into Canada in May, two months 
after leaving California.  We had made it over the 
Cascades, up what was left of the rainy coast, and 
into a country just as empty as America.

Mulder and I didn't expect to be greeted by anyone at 
the border, but we were.  Not by the crumpled bodies 
of the border patrol, but by a man and woman.  As we 
approached, we saw them sitting on the ground, 
leaning casually against the guard shack.

I stopped in my tracks, the heavy backpack slipping 
down my arms, but the couple didn't seem very 
surprised - as if they were expecting us.  "Hello," 
the woman said.  Her tone was not unfriendly, but I 
took note of the possessive grip she had on her 
rifle.

"Where you from?" asked her companion in the same 
conversational tone.

Mulder didn't answer, but turned to look back at me.  
"It's all right," he said gently, gesturing for me to 
join him.  I walked up to him, keeping a wary gaze on 
the couple, not missing the keen way they watched our 
every move.  "D.C.," he answered.

I hadn't spoken since the night before, and all that 
came out was a dry crackle.  I cleared my throat and 
mumbled, "Wisconsin."

The woman smiled.  "Wow, you guys have come a long 
way.  Haven't seen anybody come through in a few 
weeks now.  Has it just been the two of you the whole 
time?"

Mulder squeezed my elbow, telling me not to speak, 
which was fine with me.  It had been so long since 
we'd encountered another person that I felt like I 
didn't know how to communicate with anyone besides 
Mulder.  

"For a while," Mulder answered vaguely.  His words 
were cautious.  "How many of you are there?"

Now the man rose to his feet, carrying his own gun in 
his hand.  "Just over three hundred."  He stepped 
closer, eyeing us carefully.  Mulder held his gaze, 
but I could only look off into the distance; 
somewhere down the road were three hundred people, 
survivors of an alien invasion and counter attack.  
"How'd you hear about the city?"

The woman hopped to her feet and placed her hand on 
the man's arm.  "Jim," she said softly.  

Jim looked down at her, then back at us. "Yeah," he 
sighed.  A laugh puffed out of his mouth and he wiped 
his fingers across his forehead.  "I'm sorry.  We're 
still kind of . jumpy.  You know how it is."  He 
cleared his throat and threw a glance at his 
companion.

The woman flicked the safety back on her gun.  "I'm 
Kara," she said, holding out her hand to me.

I stared at it until Mulder nudged me and I blinked, 
taking it.  "Kate."  The contact of her palm against 
mine flicked a switch in my brain and I met her gaze 
with a small smile.  

Mulder shook her hand stiffly, his guard not totally 
down yet.  "Mulder." 

Kara and Jim shared a surprised look, which puzzled 
me, but Kara smiled at us before I could see if 
Mulder had noticed as well.  "Welcome," she said.

XXX

On the outskirts of the city, there was a painted 
wooden sign that read: Vancouver.  Beneath that: 
Population 298.  The 298 had an "x" through it, and 
it read 306 above it.  I wondered if a more 
appropriate sign would have been: Earth, Population 
306.

Mulder and I had not spoken in the three hours since 
we'd met Kara and Jim at the border.  But now he 
turned to look at me, a strange half-smile on his 
face.  "Huh," he said.  "How about that."

We must have stood there for a good five minutes, 
staring at the sign.  It was surreal to be among the 
last of the human race, or any race, for that matter.

"You okay?" I asked, watching him chew on his lower 
lip.

He shook his head slowly.  "Part of me doesn't want 
to go any further."

I knew what he meant.  Over the past months, I had 
often felt like I was wandering aimlessly across a 
barren continent, not sure what I would find, not 
sure where I was even going.  I had followed Mulder 
to California only because I had always wanted to see 
it.  There hadn't been anything else to do, seeing as 
I hadn't been sure whether or not I wanted to live in 
this quiet, lonely world.

But here we were - we had each seen our quest 
through, and this was the end of the line.  What 
would we find here?  Who would we find here?  Would 
people welcome us? Or would they be secretive and 
skittish, unsure of how to live in such a world?

But here we were.

I hoisted the backpack more securely onto my 
shoulders.  "Yeah," I said.  "But part of me wants to 
see what's still here."  

At that, he turned and put his arms around me.  
Surprised, I froze within his embrace.  There had 
been days that had gone by without a touch, and then 
there were the times when we had reached for each 
other in the dark, quiet night, looking for comfort 
and release.

My pause lasted only for a moment.  The need to touch 
him and mark this moment was too great.  My arms 
encircled his waist, and I relaxed into him.  "We 
made it," he whispered into my hair.

California had not been the end of the world - this 
was.  There was nowhere else to go after this.  I 
blinked back my sudden tears and hugged him tight.

XXX

We followed Jim's directions and entered downtown 
Vancouver.  I had never been here before, and was 
surprised at the number and size of the buildings.  I 
was stunned to hear sounds of life - I heard voices, 
the heavy footfalls of someone running down a street, 
and I thought I even heard a dog barking in the 
distance.

I looked up at Mulder and saw shock on his face. As 
we drew closer, I heard something I thought I'd never 
hear again: the sound of children laughing, calling 
to each other as they played.

Tears once again sprang to my eyes, and as I swiped 
at them, Mulder reached over and grabbed my hand, 
squeezing it, as if trying to reassure himself that 
this was real.

The streets were clear, save for a few lone semis and 
trucks. Almost every parking lot or open space we 
passed was packed tight with cars; they must have 
been pushed out of the road in an effort to clean up 
the dead city.  I wondered what they had done with 
the drivers, but shoved the thought out of my mind; I 
was sure I'd find out soon enough.

We looked up at the building we had been directed to 
by Jim and Kara.  Mulder still clutched my hand, and 
I was grateful.  I needed something to hang on to, 
just in case this all turned out to be a mirage, an 
illusion created out of desperate loneliness.

From around the corner, a handful of children ran 
past, shouting at each other.  They tossed a 
basketball throughout the group as they ran.  Mulder 
and I stared after them, our jaws hanging open.  In 
any other situation, it might have been comical - we 
must have looked like small town folk on their first 
visit to the big city.

"Did you see that?" Mulder whispered in disbelief. 

"Yeah."

"Good."

He looked down at me and smiled with a little laugh 
of disbelief.  "Ready?" 

I squeezed his hand and gave a shaky version of his 
smile.  I wasn't sure that I was, but what could I 
do?

XXX

I lay in my bed, not sleeping.  The moon was full and 
shone through the large picture window, but the 
kerosene lamp on the table overpowered its glow.  It 
was the first artificial light I had seen since the 
world had ended, and I refused to turn it off.

Rolling onto my side, I clutched the second pillow to 
my torso, hugging it close as my mind played the 
day's events in a loop.

Mulder had known.

He had known what was coming, had known about the 
battle that would take place.

He knew.

I didn't know how to feel about this knowledge.  The 
Vancouver leaders had been excited to learn that 
Mulder was here, was really here, had survived, but 
where was Scully?  They had been saddened and more 
than a little disappointed when Mulder had told them, 
"She's dead."  His words were blunt, his face a mask.

"How did she die?  Was she killed in the attack?"  
Their questions piled on top of one another, but 
Mulder only shook his head and gave them the simple 
facts: she had died on the side of a dark road, 
killed by looters while she slept.

Vancouver had been the predetermined location for the 
survivors to meet, chosen by the conspiracy theorists 
and those who had been prepared.  The further from 
D.C. the better, they had figured, and they all knew 
Mulder's name.  It was as if he and Scully were 
mythical legends, giants who could slay the beast 
with one flick of their golden swords.

They asked him if he would help them, if he would 
become a leader among them, as he was so respected 
and known.  He'd declined with simple words.  "I 
can't help you," he said, not unkindly.  "Not in the 
way you want me to."

I could only sit beside him, forgotten, as they came 
at him from left and right, asking questions he could 
not answer.  He knew nothing more than they did.  
He'd known in advance, that it would happen, that's 
all.

Eventually I tuned out their incessant questions.

Mulder had known.

Mulder, the man I had traveled with across a vacant 
country, had known and had fought to stop it.

I rolled over again to stare at the ceiling.

The lamp flickered, and I hoped it wouldn't go out.  
I needed this.  I needed this light, reminding me I 
had made it, that I had reached an uncertain goal.  

Mulder had disappeared after the council had finished 
with us.  Ann was telling me about the hotel/welcome 
center when I realized he wasn't there at my side.  
We had been with each other for so long now, he was 
like an appendage, even though we didn't keep a close 
physical proximity.

I hadn't seen him at dinner.  It had been so long 
since I'd had to interact with people other than 
Mulder that my heart pounded in my chest throughout 
the whole meal.  I had nothing to say to these 
people; they wouldn't understand, even though they 
had all suffered and lost.

It was just me, the council of twelve and a man who 
had also turned up that day.  Moira and Ann gently 
prodded me to talk, asking about my home, but all I 
could do was shake.  The other new arrival, whose 
name was Dan, caught my gaze and I saw my own fear 
and confusion reflected in his wide blue eyes.

Now my stomach rumbled.  I had only managed to force 
down a quarter of my meal. More canned goods, of 
course.  I had seen enough rotting carcasses during 
the past months to know that meat and dairy products 
were a thing of the past.  The handful of people in 
Vancouver were all that remained of animal life.

They told me about farms outside the city where 
volunteers grew fresh vegetables and wheat to make 
bread.  That was a small comfort, but as I stared 
down at my plate of Spam, I found myself craving a 
juicy steak.

After the late meal, Moira had shown me my room.  
"We'll find a more permanent home for you and Agent 
Mulder tomorrow," she'd said.

Agent Mulder.  Home.  I didn't know which words 
sounded odder to me.

I'd only nodded vaguely at her before slipping inside 
the room with the broken lock.  All of the doors on 
the rooms were splintered and cracked, the electronic 
locks forcibly removed and the doors busted open so 
people would have a bed, a home.

I washed up with the cold, cold water, splashing it 
over my skin to try and wake me out of my fog.  But 
it only made me shake harder, so I'd carried the lamp 
to the table and crawled naked into bed.

The moon was still high and bright when I heard the 
door creak open.  

It was Mulder.  The combined light of the lamp and 
moon cast an odd pall over him as he sat in the chair 
and closed his eyes.

I stared at him.  Why was he here?  I knew that he 
was assigned his own room.

"Kate?" he asked, eyes still closed.  "I ..." A sigh, a 
shift in his chair.

"You what?" I snapped.  "You knew."

He was silent for long moments.  Then, simply, "Yes.  
We knew."

There didn't seem to be anything else to say.  I 
turned onto my side, away from him, and Mulder closed 
the door softly behind him on his way out.

XXX

By noon the next day, I was alone again in my new 
home - a quiet hotel room.  It was a smaller room 
than the one I had slept in the night before, but my 
new home had glass doors that opened to a small 
patio.

Moira had given me a bag of things I might need, 
including new underwear and birth control pills.  
"Even if you aren't sexually active," she'd said, 
"use them.  We aren't equipped or prepared to handle 
babies around here yet."

After her post-apocalyptic welcome wagon was over, 
she had gotten up to leave.  "Agent Mulder's room is 
right next door," she'd said, then blushed, as if she 
had known that we were ...

Were what?  What was the word for two people who 
sometimes slept together out of a need for touch and 
comfort, just for the need to feel?

Fuck buddies sprang to mind, but that vulgarity 
belonged in the vernacular of what used to be, not in 
a world where people might blink with incomprehension 
at such a frivolous term.

In any case, Mulder's room was next to mine.  Maybe 
we could chat in a neighborly way some evening while 
we each barbecued steaks and drank cold beers.

Or maybe I would never see him again.  Save for his 
brief visit last night, he had all but disappeared 
since yesterday's debriefing.  Maybe he was done with 
me; maybe all the questions about Scully had brought 
back his guilt and he couldn't stand the sight of me.

Or maybe he was off planning to save the world.

My stomach rumbled and I stroked it absently, briefly 
considering how thin I had become - how thin everyone 
had become.

I was surprised at my hunger; I had gotten used to 
sparse meals.  Maybe the air of domesticity in my new 
home reminded my body that the last time I had lived 
anywhere, I ate at noon.  The room was well stocked 
with food and supplies; I grabbed a handful of 
crackers and a bag of dried apricots, then left.

The sun was trying to peek through the clouds, but a 
light drizzle still fell.  I zipped up my windbreaker 
and headed down the street.  I had no plan for the 
day, so I walked without purpose, eating my meager 
meal.

Weeds had sprung up everywhere: the cracks in the 
street and sidewalk, around trees and shrubs that had 
once been tamed.  They grew high, as if relishing the 
most freedom they had seen in decades.

I turned the corner and headed back the way Moira had 
brought me earlier.  I passed a small group of people 
who smiled at me, but as they moved past, I heard 
their murmurings about Mulder.  This happened twice 
more, and I heard Scully's name mentioned both times.  
It was like they were disappointed that I was not 
her.

Suddenly feeling like everyone was staring at me, I 
ducked into the nearest store and slumped against the 
wall.  This was . weird.  It was the most appropriate 
word that popped into my head, and yet it seemed so 
inadequate.  Weird.  Bizarre.  Foreign.  Wrong.

I was in a clothing store, something once trendy and 
overpriced.  Some of the displays had been picked 
over, the clothes in a messy heap, but other tables 
looked as if they hadn't been touched.  "Organized 
looting," Moira had described the new way of 
shopping.  "Take what you need."

I picked up a neatly folded pair of khaki pants and 
closed my eyes.  I swore I could picture the 
salesgirl who had folded them, perhaps a petite 
teenager with a blonde ponytail, folding the pants 
and thinking about how it was almost time for her 
lunch break.  She would be thinking about having a 
cigarette or two, maybe a latte . and then she was on 
the floor, eyes wide and panicked, blood trickling 
from the soft shell of her ear.

I dropped the pants and ran from the store, my heart 
pounding in my throat, choking me.  I ran all the way 
back to the hotel - home - and up ten flights of 
stairs before collapsing onto the floor, gasping for 
breath and sobbing.

XXX

When I woke up, I was still on the floor, eyes sticky 
from tears and cheeks slightly raw from being pressed 
against the carpet.  Hours had passed; it was growing 
dark, shadows snaking along the walls.

Getting to my feet and stretching, I lit my kerosene 
lamp and carried it into the bathroom, where I shed 
my clothes and took a much-needed sponge bath.

As I rinsed my skin with the cold water, I looked at 
my reflection in the mirror.  The glow of the lamp 
cast a yellowish pall over my skin; combined with the 
weight I'd lost in the past months, it made me look 
ill.  My eyes were black in the dim room, and I 
remembered the dream I'd just had.

I'd dreamt of the people from the clothing 
commercials, colorfully dressed but sullen twenty 
year-olds.  Instead of lip synching pop tunes on my 
TV, they sat in my old living room, looking at me 
with disinterest as the world died around us.  As the 
blood began to trickle from their ears, an alien 
creature with skin like chalk and ink-black eyes 
tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Everyone in body 
bags."

Done with my bath, I opened the glass doors and 
stepped out onto the deck to have a cigarette.  
Voices reached my ears, and I looked over to see 
Mulder on his own deck with two men.  Their voices 
were low, but animated.

Mulder saw me and a flash of something - guilt? pain? 
- crossed his face before he called, "Kate.  There's 
some people I want you to meet."

I let myself into his room and noted that either he 
made his bed very meticulously, or it hadn't been 
slept in.  As I walked onto the deck, Mulder held my 
gaze for a moment, then turned to the dark-haired man 
to his left.  

"Guys, this is Kate.  She came with me to California 
and then here.  This is Byers," he gestured toward 
his left, and then to the smaller man with glasses to 
his right, "and this is Frohike."

Byers and Frohike both nodded at me, eyeing me 
carefully.  "Hi," I said, not sure why I suddenly 
felt as if I were the enemy.

"They're friends of mine from . back home.  Good 
friends."  Mulder blinked rapidly a few times, as if 
shooing away tears.  "They had a conspiracy 
newsletter, called 'The Lone Gunmen,'" he continued.  
"But ... uh, one of them didn't make it.  So ..." His 
voice trailed off.

I felt a pang of jealousy.  Mulder had friends here.  
It was not unlike the first day of junior high 
school, when your best friend fell in with the in 
crowd and left you to eat lunch with the outcasts.  I 
only had Mulder, but somehow he already had a tribe 
of admirers and friends.

"Nice to meet you," I said, preparing to make my 
exit.  His friends were still staring at me, and I 
had no desire to stand around on display.

"Kate," Mulder said, stopping me.  "We'll talk 
later."

I nodded, hoping that I understood the meaning of his 
words - we would talk about his past, his friends, 
what would happen now.

What could happen now?  I adjust to a new quiet life 
in the new quiet Vancouver?  I meet a nice, shell-
shocked man and build a tidy house with a picket 
fence?

Frankly, I didn't see that happening.

XXX

The night was mild and I couldn't sleep, so I went 
outside.  I leaned against the balcony railing, 
toying with an unlit cigarette.

I stared across the street at a silenced skyscraper, 
trying to remember what it must have once looked 
like: steel and glass gleaming in the bright sun, 
lights covering its face after the sun went down.

Now the only lights were the soft flicker of kerosene 
lamps coming from other windows and balconies, and 
the white glare of the high moon.  They were the only 
lights reminding me there once was a world here, 
noisy and alive.

Gentle murmurs from somewhere below reached my ears; 
others were outside as well, restless and pondering 
their existence.  Less than a year ago, such a thing 
would have been said in jest, in mock 
pretentiousness.  Only now did the phrase carry 
weight.

Turning back to go inside, I saw Mulder standing on 
his own deck, watching me.  His fingers plucked at 
the empty air at the base of his throat, and I was 
reminded of Scully's cross, floating down to the 
crashing waves below.

"Hi," he said, voice soft.

I crossed my arms over my chest and swallowed, giving 
him a nod in return.  I hadn't yet been able to get 
past the facts revealed yesterday.  The little voice 
kept whispering in my ear, "Mulder knew."

I felt an ache that I took for loneliness, but I 
could have been mistaken; why would I feel lonely 
when I was now among more people than I had seen in 
months?  It seemed like I was lonelier than I had 
ever been.  It was a physical pain that made my chest 
tight, made my gut ache, made me tremble even in the 
mild night air.

Giving Mulder a small, joyless smile, I went back 
inside to go to bed.  Just before I fell asleep, 
there was a knock on the door.

Mulder walked in before I could answer, and he gave 
an apologetic smile to my pointed, "Come in."  He 
crossed the room to stand before the glass doors, 
looking out as if my view were any different than 
his.  I sat up in the bed, dangling my feet over the 
edge and listening to the hard ache thrumming inside 
me.

"How are you, Kate?" he asked, palm pressed against 
the glass.

"I'm fine," I lied.  He gave a sharp gasp in return, 
and I wondered what I'd said to garner such a 
response.  

His palm slid off the glass and his head dipped.  
"You're not."  An indignant laugh was on my lips, but 
he spun around to face me, finger pointed in 
accusation.  "You're NOT fine."

"Okay, so I'm not fine," I bit out.  "What would you 
like to hear - I'm fucking tired?  I'm depressed?  
I'm scared?  I'm angry?"

He took two steps over to me and gripped my chin 
between his fingers almost roughly.  "Just don't hide 
from me."

I wanted to say, "Like you did?" but his mouth was 
already over mine and the ache was melting, 
blossoming through my body as pure need, and all I 
could think was, "Yes."

This is what I needed: this contact, this lust.  His 
hands were on me, squeezing my curves, tugging my 
long dark hair out of his way, pushing me back to the 
bed.  My own hands remained on his head, holding his 
mouth to mine.  The heat and weight of his body felt 
better than sleeping with a light, better than rest 
after the journey, better than forgiving his lies of 
omission.

I spread my legs for him, groaning at the press of 
his cock against me.  Our mouths separated only long 
enough to push clothing aside.  His jeans were around 
his knees as he pushed into me with a strangled gasp.

Pulling him down on top of me, I kicked away my 
underwear and wrapped arms and legs around him, 
tilting my hips to feel him deeper.  I stared up at 
the ceiling as I met his rhythm, not even wincing as 
our pelvic bones met forcefully with each thrust.

It felt good, felt full and thick, slick and hot and 
fast.  Too hot, I was too hot and awkwardly tugged 
the thin tee shirt off my body.

"No!" I cried when he pulled away from me.  

"Turn over."  His voice was both a plea and a demand.

I crawled forward to grasp the headboard, trembling 
with heavy want. When he didn't immediately return to 
my body, I looked over my shoulder to see him 
untangling the clothes from his legs.  His heat 
covered me from behind, the head of his cock pressing 
against me again.  I reached down to stroke him 
slowly, bringing him to my opening.

"Kate," he groaned, resting his hot cheek against my 
shoulder before thrusting back inside me.  I pushed 
down to meet each thrust, biting my lip and tasting 
blood.  I stared up at the watercolor print on the 
wall above me, not realizing I was crying until the 
purple flowers blurred in my vision.

Mulder's hand was on my hip, clutching and guiding, 
and the other reached around to delve between my 
legs, fingers slipping through curls and folds, 
pinching and rubbing as I moaned and dipped my head, 
pressing my cheek against the cool wood of the 
headboard.

My orgasm shocked me with its speed and force, and 
after the cries and tremors faded, I found myself 
with my forehead on the mattress, wetting the white 
sheet with tears as Mulder thrust erratically, 
filling me and filling me with a low moan.

He remained braced over me for long minutes, hot and 
breathless.  I wondered why my tears wouldn't stop, 
but did my best to keep them silent, keep my face 
pressed into the mattress, keep my shoulders from 
shaking.

After he rolled off me, I felt his breath tickling 
the side of my face.  "It's going to be all right," 
he whispered, kissing the curve of my ear.

I wished I could believe that.  

XXX

It had been so long since I had seen any sort of 
working electronics, I'd almost forgotten the sounds 
they made, the lights that blinked, or how to even 
turn them on.  But less than a week after arriving in 
Vancouver, I stood in the hotel that served as the 
city's headquarters and saw a ham radio.

I stared at it like it was some piece of alien 
technology.  "Where did you get this?" Mulder asked.  
"Does it work?"

Byers, Frohike and Dave smiled at our incredulous 
reactions.  "'Course it works," Frohike replied.  
"You didn't think we'd be unprepared for an EMP, 
Mulder, did you?"

Mulder laughed.  "No, I guess not."

As I reached out a tentative hand to touch the dirty 
metal box.  "But who can you talk to?  Who else has 
one?  Where are there other people?" I asked, curious 
about the need for a radio in a dead world.

Dave stepped forward, placing a hand on my arm.  
"There are other camps, twenty others that we know 
of."

My hand froze above the handset.  "Where?" I 
whispered, my vision suddenly blurred through tears.  
We weren't the only ones?

"All over North America," he supplied, squeezing my 
arm gently in understanding.  "There may be more that 
we don't know about; they may not have radios."

I didn't know what to say.  There were others.  
Others had survived.

"Here."  Dave guided me into a chair.  "Why don't you 
say hello?"

I swiped my fingers under my eyes, wiping away tears.  
"To whom?" 

Mulder leaned over my shoulder, reaching for my hand.  
"To whoever hears you.  Someone's always listening," 
he said.  I was relieved to hear a tremor in his 
voice; I didn't like being the only one overwhelmed 
in the room.  He squeezed my hand once before 
releasing it, then pressed the button on the handset.  

"Hello," I said tentatively, licking my lips.  I 
glanced up at Mulder, unsure but not knowing why.  He 
smiled in encouragement, his own eyes glistening.  
"This is . Kate and Mulder, in Vancouver.  Is anybody 
there?"

Mulder released the button, and we waited, listening 
as if our lives depended on it.  After a moment, 
there was a crackle and a hiss, and then: 

"Hello, Vancouver, this is Ray in Florida.  Kate and 
Mulder, you must be the new arrivals."  Mulder 
answered in the affirmative, and Ray's voice came 
over the speaker again.  

"Welcome to the new world."

XXX

And someone was always listening.  Byers and Frohike 
had a second, smaller radio in their home -- an old 
storefront several blocks away from the hotel.  

Mulder was there a lot, either on the radio with 
other camps or sitting quietly while his friends 
talked and worked.  He told me who he'd talked to, 
repeating their words with a disbelieving laugh:  
"Hello, Mulder, this is Miami."  "Hello, Mulder, this 
is Chicago." "Hello, Mulder, this is Dallas."

Someone was always listening.

XXX

I was eating lunch with Mulder on his patio when 
Byers and Frohike came in.  "Come with us," Frohike 
said, hitching a large duffel bag over his shoulder.

Mulder swallowed another spoonful of canned corn 
before looking up at him.  "What is it?"

Byers smiled.  "We have something to show you."

"So show me here."  Mulder appeared uninterested, 
tired of secrecy.

"No. We want to show you, not the whole building."  
Frohike nodded at me.  "You can come, too."  

Mulder remained seated, and his friend added, "You'll 
like it. I promise."

Mulder looked at me, then back up at Byers, squinting 
in the bright June sun.  "All right."

They led us halfway across town to the Trout Lake 
Park, a huge expanse of overgrown green, dotted with 
sports field and playground equipment.  I quickly 
committed the route to memory so I could come back 
again, and maybe use the swings.  I saw Mulder 
eyeballing the basketball court with the same 
scrutiny and chuckled.

"Okay, Frohike. We haven't seen anyone else for the 
last twenty minutes.  Are we suitably isolated now?" 
Mulder asked, shoving his hands into his jeans 
pockets.

Frohike set the bag on the ground, opened it, and 
pulled out a boom box.  My jaw dropped.  "Where did 
you get that? Does it work?"

Byers laughed as I knelt before it, touching the 
black plastic with reverence.  "We were able to 
salvage it with some extra parts we'd brought from 
D.C."

Frohike's hand emerged from the bag with a handful of 
CDs and a pack of batteries.  "Ta-da!"  He knelt to 
insert the batteries.  "And yes, we'll share it with 
everyone. We just thought we'd share it with you 
first."

"And for the first musical selection." Byers 
announced with fanfare, putting in a disc and 
pressing play.

The opening chords of "Jailhouse Rock" filled my 
ears, and I grinned in astonished delight.  Looking 
over my shoulder at Mulder, I saw he wore a similar 
smile.

It was incredible - after months of nothing but my 
own singing, the music was loud and clear and the 
most beautiful thing I had ever heard.

We tapped our feet to the beat but it wasn't until 
"Don't Be Cruel" began to play that Frohike began an 
absurd Elvis-like dance.

His impromptu dance inspired the rest of us.  
Laughing, I clapped for Frohike before joining him, 
swiveling my hips and shaking my ass.  It felt free 
and good, like stretching after a long, cramped car 
ride.  

The four of us broke the stillness of the long empty 
park, dancing and clapping to the music, laughing and 
singing along.  Mulder had a passable Elvis 
impersonation, complete with lunge and hand gestures, 
but a terrible singing voice.  Byers could sing but 
had no rhythm at all.

I just laughed and laughed, the foreign sensations 
building upon each other throughout my body and 
making me giddy.

After "Hound Dog," Byers replaced Elvis with the 
Stones.

"Yeah!" Mulder exclaimed, automatically revving up 
his air guitar to the opening riff of "Satisfaction."

I watched him, amazed at how his easy smile changed 
his face; years were wiped away.  He met my gaze and 
I blushed, caught.  Instead of becoming awkward, he 
only smiled more broadly and held out his hand to me.  
I took it eagerly, and we danced together, singing 
along with Mick Jagger.  The words to great songs 
were not unlike bicycle riding - you never forgot.

The rhythm of dancing came back to me just as easily, 
and I soon found myself dancing without inhibitions, 
arms raised over my head as I moved to the music.  
God, I thought, this feels so good I could cry.

Mulder reached out and snagged my hips with his 
hands, surprising me.  When his grin turned 
lascivious, I returned the sentiment and placed my 
hands over his and we both guided my body closer to 
his.

We were being playful, but there was a strong 
undercurrent of sexual awareness beneath our teasing.  
I draped my arms around his neck, pushing my hips 
against his and laughing.  

There was silence when the song ended; the CD player 
had stopped.  Still laughing, I turned to yell for 
more, but stopped when I saw the looks that Byers and 
Frohike were giving us.

Byers was looking at us with surprise but Frohike's 
gaze, directed at Mulder, was full of hurt and 
accusation.

Immediately, I stepped away from Mulder, unsure of 
why I felt guilty but angry that I did.

XXX

He came to me that night.

We'd last been together three nights ago; I had woken 
to find him kneeling by the bed, watching me.  No 
words were spoken as I'd sat up in silent invitation, 
and only gasps and muffled cries were voiced until he 
left my room as unheralded as he'd entered.

But tonight wasn't going to be like that.

"Kate," he whispered, brushing the hair from my eyes.  
"Can I..." He stopped his question with a shake of his 
head and leaned forward to kiss me.

Since we had arrived in Vancouver, the sex between us 
had been greedy and quick, each of us taking what we 
needed from the other.  His lips and hands were hard 
on my body, and I responded almost desperately.

My lips met his, and instead of the roughness I had 
become accustomed to, the kiss was unhurried, 
undemanding. I almost pulled away, unused to this 
gentleness I had not felt from him since that night 
in the desert, so many months ago. 

He stroked his tongue against my own, and I gasped in 
pleasant surprise.  Instead of the familiar burst of 
urgent lust, slow liquid warmth filled my body.  I 
moaned softly as his lips slid along my throat. 

After, I laid beside him on my stomach and closed my 
eyes, exhausted from the aching slowness with which 
we'd had sex.  I was relaxed and sated.  A little 
voice in the back of my head wondered about this 
sudden change, but I refused to listen.  He'd looked 
into my eyes as he entered me.  He'd told me once 
that my eyes looked like Scully's; I wondered if he 
thought of her when he looked at me like that.

Maybe this was what I needed.  My mind replayed the 
moment he had come inside me: his eyes fluttering 
closed, the cords in his neck taut as he thrust into 
me, calling me "Katie" in a cracked voice.

Long, lazy minutes passed, listening to him breathe 
beside me.  I opened my eyes and gave him a smile.  
He returned a smaller version and reached out a hand 
to stroke my hair, once.  His eyes closed briefly 
before he rolled over and sat up, swinging his long 
legs to the floor.  I moved behind him and pressed a 
lingering kiss between his shoulder blades.
 
His hand briefly covered mine on his shoulder as he 
murmured my name. It sounded like an apology.  I 
watched him get dressed and pulled the sheet over me; 
I suddenly felt very cold and exposed.

Then he was out the door, his fingers at the base of 
his throat, as if searching for something that was no 
longer there.  Most people wore religious symbols to 
draw comfort from their faith.  Mulder had used his 
to find comfort in Scully, and I looked for my own 
comfort with him.

I rolled onto my back and blinked away a film of 
bitter tears.  "I'm sorry I'm not her," I whispered, 
but the ceiling did not answer.

XXX

Another night, just like the nights before.  I waited 
for him to get up and leave the way he always did, 
but tonight he stayed.  We lay awake, side by side on 
our backs.  I was afraid to speak, afraid to breathe, 
lest he change his mind.

"Kate," he said, and I rolled over onto my side, 
facing him.  He glanced at me, then away again.  
"There's something you need to know."

"Yeah?" I traced a fingertip over the curve of his 
bicep, stroking him with the lightest of touches.

He rubbed his arm absently, as though my touch 
tickled his skin.  "The men ... the people that I 
fought, that Scully and I fought to stop.  They're 
still here."

"How do you know?"  I sat up, tucking the sheet over 
my bare chest and under my arms.  

"There've been reports from the other cities.  People 
have been missing, taken from the camps."

"Taken?"  Too many questions buzzed through my head, 
but I stuck with the basics. "How? Why?"

He shook his head, rubbing his palms over his face.  
"I don't know," he answered, his voice muffled from 
beneath his hands.  "The reports have been coming in 
from the camps for the past few weeks; since the 
middle of June."

I swallowed and looked down at my knees, knobby 
beneath the white sheet.  "Wow," I said, unsure of 
what else to say.  "You don't think it's the . aliens 
coming back, do you?"  Even after all that had 
happened, after all I had witnessed and lived 
through, it still felt odd to say the word aloud. 

"I don't think so.  Not yet.  But ..." he sighed.  "I 
don't know, Kate."

We were silent for a while.  "Does everyone know?" I 
asked.

He shook his head and stared up at the ceiling.  "No.  
Just the council, the Gunmen and me.  And you," he 
added unnecessarily. 

"So why tell me?"  I somehow gathered that this 
wasn't merely an attempt to start opening up to me.

"These people ... they may be waiting for me to turn up 
somewhere."

Even now, I still didn't fully understand Mulder's 
role in the game, and it struck me as egotistical for 
him to think that he still played a key role.  "Why?" 
I asked with a bitter laugh.  "Why are you still so 
important?"  I clutched my knees tighter to my chest.  
"Yeah, yeah - I know about your father.  And your 
sister.  Aliens and viruses and spaceships in 
Antarctica.  And Scully."  He winced at the mention 
of her name, and part of me felt guilty for the way 
I'd spat it out.  "But ... why?"

His expression contained vague surprise as well as 
irritation, as if he'd forgotten how much he'd told 
me over the months.  He got out of bed and stood by 
the glass door, the hazy moonlight barely 
illuminating his naked body.  "All I'm saying is that 
they may have heard me talking over the radio.  They 
may know I'm here."  He leaned his forehead against 
the glass.  "All I'm saying is that we have to be 
careful."

Two nights later, Mulder was on his balcony and I was 
on mine.  He'd barely acknowledged my presence, so it 
surprised me when he spoke.

"They're running tests."

I moved to the side of the balcony and leaned on the 
wrought iron railing.  "Tests for what?"

He looked down at his hands and shook his head. "I 
don't know.  We've just been listening to the reports 
from the other camps, and ...  I don't know," he 
repeated softly.  "It's just all very familiar."  His 
hand was at his throat again, stroking the skin where 
the cross had once lain.

XXX

I had grown restless after only a week or so of being 
in Vancouver.  Part of it, I knew, was due to the 
months of travel that had brought me here - I wasn't 
used to being at rest.  But I also felt useless.  
Everyone seemed to have their place, including 
Mulder, who was always off with the Gunmen or with 
the council. 

Everyone had their place but me, and I didn't like 
that feeling.  I didn't like feeling like I should be 
doing something.  People looked at me as if I should 
be taking Scully's place at his side because I had 
arrived with Mulder. It pissed me off.  I had never 
met this redheaded wonder woman, and yet I had to 
endure endless comparisons? It was ridiculous.

So while wandering through the park one day, I'd come 
across Jill and Suzanne leading a joined-hand line of 
children and playing a gentle version of crack the 
whip.  It had made me smile, and Suzanne invited me 
to join them.  The children liked me, and I'd been 
helping them ever since.

I sat down in the green, weedy grass of the field and 
watched the loosely ruled game progress, smiling as 
Jill helped four-year-old Brian run the correct path 
to first base.

A chill tickled up my spine as I watched, and I 
tensed; someone was behind me, watching me.  Turning 
slowly, I saw a slim figure standing next to the 
basketball hoop about fifty yards away.  I rose and 
faced him, letting him know that I saw him.  It was 
probably just someone coming to watch the game, one 
of the parents.

But as I cautiously approached, I saw his shoulders 
shake and realized he was crying.  "Hello?" I called 
out.  "Are you all right?"  From behind me, the kids 
cheered - someone must have kicked the rubber ball 
well out of the field.

He was whisper-thin, and he hung onto the metal pole 
of the hoop as if it were the only thing holding him 
up.  He was shaking, and not only from tears; he 
looked like he'd been traveling for weeks.  I 
recognized that look.

He wasn't the first newcomer the city had welcomed 
since I'd arrived.  I knew to be gentle but wary - 
many had arrived in a less than stable mental state.  
"Where've you come from?" I asked, not unkindly, but 
keeping a safe distance.

He passed a trembling hand over his dirty, unshaven 
face. "Um ... Denver.  There ... there are people."  His 
voice was crumpled and pained; I wondered how long it 
had been since he'd used it.

"This is Vancouver.  You made it to Canada.  How long 
have you been walking?"

He shook his head, bending his legs and squatting on 
the cracked pavement.  "I don't know."

I knelt before him.  "It's all right," I soothed, 
bringing a comforting hand to his shoulder, then his 
cheek.  He flinched at first, then leaned into my 
palm, sobbing.  "You're all right now."

His name was Robert, and it took us almost an hour to 
walk back to the center of town.  I took him to the 
hotel, where I could find help.  Moira saw us enter, 
and we guided him to a chair.  She brought him a 
bottle of water and a handful of crackers.  

"Don't drink it too fast," she cautioned.  "Kate, 
stay with him. I'm going to find Dave or Craig."

She rushed off and I stayed at Robert's side, his 
hand firmly in mine as he nibbled on the crackers.  
He looked as though he could eat for days, but he ate 
slowly, as if trying to make it last. Maybe he 
thought this was the only food he would see for days. 
I wondered when he had last eaten.

Dave appeared with Mulder close behind.  I was 
prepared to leave him in their care, but when I moved 
to pull my hand away, Robert gripped it forcefully, 
so I stayed, a comforting presence while they talked 
to him.

"Where did you come from, Robert?" Dave asked, 
sitting on the wood and glass table in front of him.

"Denver.  There's about five hundred people there."

"Why did you leave?"

Robert looked down into his lap.  "There was nothing 
there.  There's nothing anywhere."  He shook his 
head, and a tear fell onto our clasped hands.  "I 
couldn't stay there."

I understood what he meant.  There was such confusion 
and sorrow, so much loneliness among the survivors. 
It was part restlessness, part fear, part 
determination to leave it all behind.

"Do they have a radio in Denver?" Dave continued.  
"Do they communicate with other cities?"

Robert looked up at Dave.  "We thought we were the 
only ones."  He shook his head again.  "There's no 
radio, no nothing.  Just a bunch of people thinking 
they're all that's left."  He gave a short, harsh 
laugh.  "And the only way to reassure them that 
they're not is to walk all the way back down there."

We were silent for a few minutes, until Mulder spoke 
up.  "Have people been ... taken from Denver, Robert?  
Taken and then returned, maybe hurt or...?"

He dropped his gaze back to his lap.  "Only people 
that leave Denver are the people that want to die.  
And they don't come back."

XXX

There were times when I was glad to be Mulder's 
confidant; he told me what was going on.  Combined 
with the simple pleasure of playing with the kids, it 
made my existence almost fun.  It felt like I was 
caught in the midst of a cat and mouse game of global 
proportions.

I didn't know the exact reasons that Mulder kept me 
informed.  Maybe he was starting to open up to me, 
and personal revelations would soon be following.  
Maybe I was just his sounding board, so I could ask 
the questions. The Gunmen trusted him implicitly, and 
I suspect it frustrated Mulder at times; he had his 
yes-men, but he needed someone to question him, help 
him fill in the plot holes.

The night of Robert's arrival, I was in the bathroom 
with my lamp, trying to scrub away a grass stain on 
my jeans, a remnant of my kickball referee duties.  
Mulder was in the other room, lying on the bed.

"I would bet that there are more cities like Denver.  
They can't communicate with the rest of the country, 
and no one can communicate with them."

I came out of the bathroom, lamp and jeans in hand.  
"Yeah," I agreed.

He raised himself up on one elbow.  "And if that's 
the case, then I would bet good money that THEY 
aren't aware of the people in these cities, either."

I sat down in the chair by the bed.  "So you think 
the only way they know about the camps is by radio 
contact?"

Mulder shrugged, picking at the bedspread.  
"Possibly. They seem to know where the majority of 
them are.  They must be picking up the transmissions 
on their own radios.  We can't let this get out over 
the radio, or they WILL know."

"So where does that leave us?  They're going to reach 
Vancouver eventually," I said, and wondered if he 
would be staying tonight.

"Yeah.  We've been talking about that.  Short of 
packing up the whole city and moving, there's not 
much else we can do."

XXX

I often met up with Mulder and the Gunmen at their 
office.  Frohike still refused to look at me with 
anything but a frown or a glare.  Byers seemed to be 
aware of his friend's behavior and did his best to 
compensate, drawing me into conversation or 
explaining things to me when I seemed lost.

The abductees had begun to be returned to the camps.  
Some were dead, others died within days of their 
return.  Some were physically broken, others couldn't 
or wouldn't talk.  And there were still others who 
appeared unharmed, mentally and physically.

Without the necessary equipment, it was next to 
impossible to determine what had been done to them.  
The only way they were able to investigate further 
was to study the bodies of those who had died, 
although there wasn't much to be learned from simply 
cutting open the bodies.

I closed my eyes and tried to picture Scully, the 
pathologist, cutting up the bodies and struggling to 
make sense of it all.  For the first time since I'd 
met Mulder, I wished I could be her.  Maybe then I'd 
understand.

Over the period of a few weeks, reports of abductions 
ceased, but from time to time we heard of an abductee 
committing suicide or running away from the cities 
with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Frohike's dislike for me seemed to grow as summer 
marched on.  I'd overheard him once, just outside 
their door.  "Stop trying to pretend she's Scully!" 
Frohike had shouted, a wobble in his voice as if he 
were near tears.

It was a moment before Mulder replied, but that 
moment was filled with pain - my own and, I guessed, 
his.  "God damn you," he said, his voice deceptively 
low.  "I have never pretended she was anyone she's 
not.  Stop blaming her for not being Scully, Frohike.  
It isn't fair."  

"We just miss her, Mulder," Byers said quietly.

"But I miss her, too. So much.  You have no idea."

I didn't go in.  I didn't speak to Mulder for two 
days after that, and it was a week before he came to 
me again.

XXX

By August, Vancouver's population had rocketed up to 
348.  The survivors kept coming - though the numbers 
were small, it was comforting to see more people 
arrive, to see that there were always others.  

I still helped Jill and Suzanne with the children, 
and now there was also Erin, a more recent arrival.  
We took the kids to the park on nice days, giving 
them exercise and sunshine.  Other days, we took them 
to quiet libraries and bookstores, leaving them to 
explore and read, helping and teaching those who were 
too young.  We hoped that by the time winter arrived, 
an educational system of sorts would be in place.

Erin showed up one morning with red eyes.  "Jake's 
gone," she told Jill and I.  "He did this before, 
when we were traveling north.  Just took off one day, 
caught up with me later.  Said he needed some space."  
She laughed sharply, then sniffled.  Jill handed her 
a Kleenex while I rubbed her back.  "We thought we 
were the only fucking people left alive, and he 
wanted SPACE."

Erin and her husband Jake had shown up in July.  Once 
they'd gotten settled in, they'd both been eager to 
help however they could.  They missed human 
interaction and having a purpose, they said.  So Jake 
began working with the council, and Erin helped us 
with the children, most of whom no longer had 
parents.

And Jake did return, a week later.  Just waltzed back 
into town, cool as a cucumber and just as skinny.  He 
walked past the park where we were playing with the 
kids, and we watched as Erin yelled at him, hit at 
him with her small fists, and finally hugged him.  He 
comforted her, telling her things we couldn't hear, 
and then they walked back into town.

"It was weird," I told Mulder that night as we sat on 
my balcony, sipping drinks made with warm Coke and 
old Jack Daniels.  

Mulder turned the plastic cup around and around in 
his hands.  "Jake's quiet," he commented.  "But eager 
to get into the swing of things and help out."  

I drained my too-sweet drink.  "Want another one?" he 
asked, jiggling the half-empty bottle.

"God no," I groaned, pushing my dark hair from my 
face.  "I haven't had alcohol in ." I tried to think 
of the last time I'd had a drink; I thought I'd had a 
beer just over a year ago, during my Labor Day 
vacation.  The last vacation - anywhere, for anyone.  
"A long time."  I leaned back in the chair and looked 
up at the stars.  "I can't handle my liquor anymore."

"Could you ever?"

"No," I laughed.  "Never."

"I never was much of a drinker, myself."  He looked 
at the bottle, as if expecting it to nod in 
affirmation.

"So a few Jack and Cokes and you're schnockered?"

He gave me a wide, loose smile.  "Yep."

I laughed again, standing up and stretching before 
walking over to the edge of the balcony and leaning 
on the railing.  "Wow."

"Wow what?" he asked, joining me.

"Wow, this is my life."  I gestured out toward the 
dark city before us.  "This is where I am, and 
sometimes I can't believe it."

Mulder clasped his hands and leaned on the railing.  
"You make it sound like it's a 'poor girl makes good 
in the big city' story."

"Sometimes that's what I have to tell myself," I 
said.  "To explain things."

He turned to me, bringing his hand up to cup my 
cheek.  I leaned into his palm with a small smile.  
"Katie," he said, affection in his voice.

"Yep."  I expected him to tell me again that we had 
made it, that although things were different, this 
was the way the world was now.

His response instead was to kiss me, a slow kiss that 
made me ache, made me want to curl up onto his chest 
and stay there.

When we parted, his hand slid from my cheek to the 
back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair.  He 
bent to kiss the shell of my ear, and I gasped 
against his jaw.  "Let's go inside," he whispered.

And when I woke up the next morning Mulder was still 
there, stroking my back as he held me.

XXX

Slowly but surely, our small corner of the world 
struggled to rebuild some sort of normalcy.

On a warm Thursday night at the end of August, we 
even had a party.  There were makeshift torches 
lining the street, and the boom box, our lone source 
of electronic entertainment, played loud music - 
everything from big band to Van Halen.  About one 
hundred people gathered in the street, talking, 
drinking and dancing.  Others watched from the 
sidewalks and surrounding buildings, refusing to join 
in.

Maybe they sensed that a lot of the merriment was 
forced, that it felt strange and wrong to be partying 
when the world had, for all intents and purposes, 
ended.  The idea formed a ball of tension in my 
stomach, but I forced down the feeling with alcohol 
and too-loud laughter.

Mulder was there, eating pretzels and talking.  We 
had both made friends over the months, although 
Mulder mainly stuck with Byers and Frohike - neither 
of whom were participating in the street party.

Erin and Jake were there as well, although Jake was 
staying on the sidelines, just watching.  Erin didn't 
seem to mind - she danced with Jill and me and didn't 
pay him any attention.  Maybe she needed some space 
as well.

I left the group of dancers after a while, in search 
of another drink and Mulder.  I found him sitting on 
the curb with Jake, talking.  "Hey," I said, gently 
tapping his shin with the toe of my sneaker.  "Hi, 
Jake."  Mulder smiled up at me and returned the 
greeting, but Jake merely nodded at me.  I sat down 
beside Mulder.  "Having fun?"

Mulder laughed a little.  "Oh yeah," he said, raising 
his cup to his lips.  "A ball."

I nudged his shoulder with my own.  "I'm looking for 
a strapping hunk of man to dance with me.  Up for the 
challenge?"

He grimaced.  "Nope."

"Oh, come on."  He shook his head.  "Fine."  I leaned 
over to smile at Jake.  "How about you?"

Jake smiled tightly.  "No thank you."

I made a big show of sighing.  "I guess I'll just 
have to find someone else.  Someone who'll make you 
insanely jealous," I added with a teasing grin at 
Mulder.

He turned his head and gave me a soft kiss.  "Do your 
worst," he grinned back.

I hopped up and headed over to the table that held 
the dusty bottles of booze, cans of soda for mixing 
and plastic cups.  Once I had a drink in hand, I 
turned back to give Mulder a jaunty toast, but he was 
gone.

Jake was still sitting there, watching me.  My smile 
faltered a bit, but I raised my cup to him anyway in 
an offer of friendship, even if he didn't want it.

He smiled at me, but it wasn't a particularly 
friendly smile.  It almost appeared smug, satisfied.  
He said something, too quiet for me to hear above the 
music.  

I'd never been much of a lip reader, but it looked 
like he was saying, "You have your fun, Kate."

Uncomfortable, I turned away and headed back to my 
friends.

XXX

"Kate!" Kevin shouted from somewhere behind me. "I 
can't find it!"

I sighed.  "Sam, go meet up with the others by the 
basketball court.  I'll help Kevin find the ball."  
The boy nodded and ran off toward the group, and I 
made my way through the trees toward Kevin.  "Are you 
sure this is where it went?"  

After a few unsuccessful minutes, a faint sound 
reached my ears.  I stood and cocked my head, trying 
to figure out what it was.  It sounded vaguely 
familiar, a low mechanical rumble that grew in volume 
and pitch as I tried to place it.  Whatever it was, 
it was getting closer.

"Kate?" Kevin asked.  "What's that noise?"

"Ssh."  

The sound grew louder still, and I realized what it 
was: a car, maybe two or three.  

"Come on, Kevin."  I grabbed his hand and made my way 
back to the edge of the woods, but stopped when I 
heard the sounds of car doors slamming and people 
shouting.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose; something was 
really wrong.  "It's a car!  I want to see it!" Kevin 
yelled, yanking his hand from mine and running out of 
the forest.

"Kevin!  Shit," I hissed as he emerged from the woods 
and onto the field.  As I started after him, the 
shouts turned to screams.

Kevin stopped ahead of me as he saw - we both saw - 
what was happening.  I grabbed him by the shoulders 
and spun him around to face me.  "Run, Kevin. Run and 
get help."

He nodded, eyes wide, and took off toward the street 
in a sprint. No one followed; he had gone unnoticed.

Fight or flight.  Fight or flight.  I didn't know 
what to do.  I watched my friends struggling with 
men, five or six of them.  Some of the older children 
tried in vain to protect Jill and Suzanne, but most 
of the kids ran further into the park, screaming.

I stumbled closer and saw guns in the men's hands.  
Closer still, and I saw Jill slump forward against 
one of the men, who easily swung her body into his 
arms and carried her to a dark colored van.  Suzanne 
fell onto her side in the grass.

Jesus.  I took a few slow steps backward, intending 
to run toward the trees; I could hide there, Kevin 
had gone for help, no one had seen me ...

As I spun around, something slammed against my chest 
and I fell to the ground, landing heavily on my back.  
I gasped and tried to sit up, but hands held me down.

"No ." I moaned. "No."

A shadow fell over me, and I opened my eyes to see 
Erin leaning over me.  I opened my mouth to ask her 
what was going on, but a sharp pain in my shoulder 
made me cry out instead.   "I'm so sorry, Kate," she 
said.  "I'm sorry."

She leaned back, and I saw an empty syringe in her 
hand.  "Jesus," I whispered.  "Erin."

I closed my eyes as she stood up.  It was a struggle 
to open them again, but when I did, Jake had taken 
her place.  He stared down at me, and his face swam 
in my vision.

My eyes fluttered closed as I was lifted off the 
ground.  In my mind, I saw him sitting on the curb at 
the party, saying to me, "You have your fun, Kate."  

Have your fun while you still can.

Oh God. He knew.

Mulder, he knew.

XXX

Whether it was from shock, panic or fear he couldn't 
say, but the world seemed to slow down around him.

It was strange - when Kevin had come running down the 
street yelling, "Help! Someone help!", time had sped 
up.  He barely remembered running through town and 
down to the park, but now here he was, one among a 
group of twelve who had answered the boy's cries, 
watching the world move in slow motion around him.

Mulder moved with sluggish steps past the frantic, 
crying children, moving toward the one boy who 
appeared calm and able to tell him what had happened.

He remembered a similar molasses time, walking 
amongst burned bodies, looking for red hair, looking 
for Scully as panic-induced bile stung the back of 
his throat.

But there were no bodies here, only children and 
confused adults.  And the adults that should have 
been there were gone.

Mulder touched the boy on the shoulder, and the world 
snapped back into place.  "What happened here?"

The dark-haired boy looked up at him, eyes wide.  
"They took Kate and Jill and Suzanne," he said in a 
quiet, frightened voice.  

Mulder's voice became dry.  "Who took them?"

"They had cars."  They boy swiped at his eyes with 
his fist.  "We tried to stop them, but they had guns 
and ... and ... and needles."  His breath hitched with 
his tears.

"It's okay," Mulder told him.  "It's not your fault."  
An automatic response.

He walked over to where the grass and weeds had been 
pressed into the ground by tires.  He closed his 
eyes.

Kate.

XXX

It never ended.  It just never ended.

Mulder was exhausted.  For days after the three women 
were abducted, he sat in his small room and did 
nothing.  

What could he do?  Start walking until he found them?  
Hell, they could be on a boat to Hawaii for all they 
knew.

All they knew was that Jake and Erin had been among 
the abductors, and had not been seen since.  Several 
kids thought they saw Jake carrying Kate to the car, 
but they'd been too far away to see for sure.  A 
small part of him had been surprised when the several 
kids dutifully reported the color of the car and said 
there had been no license plates - someone had 
ingrained the safety rules into their young minds, 
and it had stuck, even after everything had been 
wiped out.

Mulder couldn't know for sure that Kate had been 
taken because of him.  Sure, he'd announced to anyone 
who'd been listening that he was "Mulder from 
Vancouver."  But maybe this had just been the last 
stop for the abductors.  Vancouver was the 
westernmost camp in North America, and the pattern of 
abductions had shown movement from east to west.

But he refused to dwell on the "what ifs" and "if 
onlys."  It had never done him any good in the past, 
and it wasn't going to do him any good now.

Kate was gone.  He had no shadowy informants anymore, 
no one to bargain with for information.  All he could 
do was wait it out and hope she came back in one 
piece.  If she came back at all.

She was in his dreams now, replacing the nightmares 
of Scully, dead beside him in the morning dew.  It 
was Kate lying by the road, arm stretched onto the 
blacktop.  It was Kate on the surgical table, belly 
distended, eyes and mouth open in pain and fear.

And it was Kate's name that he screamed out in the 
middle of the night.

Somewhere between California and these dark nights, 
he had fallen in love with her.  Well, not exactly in 
love, he rationalized to himself.  The sex had 
stopped being about fear and need.  It had become a 
gesture, a series of kisses and caresses, more tender 
than when it had begun.  He had stopped needing it 
and started wanting it - started wanting Kate.

He admired her strength, and didn't pretend it didn't 
remind him of Scully.  Her smile was charming, and he 
loved seeing it.  She was quick and intelligent, and 
she knew when conversation and companionship were 
unwanted.  He appreciated and respected her.  He had 
grown to trust and love her.

So he waited, feeling fear and worry for Kate, anger 
at his helplessness, and guilt for letting Scully be 
replaced.

XXX

"Jesus, Mulder."  Frohike yanked open the drapes.  
"Let some light in here."  Mulder blinked at the 
offending glare of the afternoon sun, but didn't 
answer.  "How long you going to sit in here?  Until 
she comes back?  What if she never comes back?" 

"Fuck you," Mulder muttered, but his heart wasn't in 
it.  "I'm sorry I'm worried about someone who's not 
Scully."

"Damn it, Mulder, that's not the point.  We've all 
lost someone," Frohike replied.

Mulder closed his eyes and thought briefly of Langly, 
caught outside when it came, returning from warning 
his sister and nephew.  He'd been a block away.  
Byers and Frohike had found him and buried him, 
after.

"Yeah, I know.  But the fucking world ended.  Why is 
it that we STILL have to worry about people being 
used as goddamn guinea pigs?"  Bile rose in his 
throat, and he grimaced.

Byers sighed.  "The point, Mulder, is that if it were 
Scully, you'd be out there, looking."

Mulder got out of the chair, scratching his chin 
through the heavy stubble.  "I don't know what you 
guys think I should be doing.  Should I start 
walking?  Okay, tell me which direction I should go.  
Should I sit by the radio and wait to see if she's 
returned in Texas?  Or Florida?"  He gestured wildly.  
"Or maybe I should get on the horn and say 'Listen, 
you motherfuckers, I know you're out there!  Bring 
back Kate or I'll kick you ass!'  Is that what I 
should do, guys?  Help me out here, because I'm 
feeling pretty damn helpless!"

They had no answer for him, and Mulder slumped onto 
the bed.  "It never stops," he said.  "It just never 
stops."

XXX

Mulder had once thought that the world would come to 
a crashing halt if he and Scully ever became lovers.  
And the first time they'd made love, he'd told her as 
much, and they'd shared a good laugh at such a crazy 
notion.

Imagine their surprise when, mere weeks later, they 
were scrambling to warn their loved ones that the sky 
was falling.  

The morning after their post-Antarctic hearing, 
Mulder had gone home to change clothes.  He'd left 
Scully with gentle kisses on her still frostbitten 
skin and driven home, a goofy, post-coital grin on 
his face.

The smile had faded when he saw Alex Krycek sitting 
on his leather couch.  "What the fuck do you want?" 
Mulder had snarled, reaching for his gun almost as an 
afterthought.

Krycek stood, hands plainly in view.  "I'm here as a 
friend, Mulder."

Mulder lowered his arm but kept his finger on the 
trigger.  "Great.  Let me get you a cold one."

Krycek had ignored the sarcasm.  "You don't know what 
you've done, do you?"  Mulder just looked at him, 
waiting for the punch line.  "Labor Day weekend.  The 
president will declare a state of emergency.  Do you 
follow me, Mulder?"  Krycek's voice was tight, angry.  
"They know about the virus and all deals are off."

So he'd saved Scully and inadvertently killed the 
rest of the world.  Granted, it would have happened 
eventually, but still.  There hadn't been time to 
linger on the weighty implications; there was only 
time to prepare.

After it was over, after they'd crawled from the 
rubble of the city, after Scully had been murdered 
while he slept beside her, there had been plenty of 
time to think.

But now Mulder was exhausted, and could dwell on it 
no longer.

All he could do was wait.

XXX

Two weeks and a day after they were taken, the women 
were returned.

Moira woke Mulder in the middle of the night, 
pounding on the door.  They jogged to the building 
that housed the crude hospital, where they were 
greeted by three council members and Dr. Schultz, a 
pediatrician turned head physician.  Two RNs and a 
veterinarian comprised the rest of the meager staff.

"Where's Kate?" Mulder asked tersely.

"Come with me," Dr. Schultz replied.  Mulder followed 
him down the hall to a cluster of rooms.  He heard 
high-pitched shrieks from behind one closed door.  
"Hang on," the flustered doctor muttered, entering 
the room and closing the windowless door quickly 
behind him.

Mulder ran a hand through his hair and cursed 
impatiently.  He was considering opening doors until 
he found her when he glanced around the corner and 
saw a covered gurney against the wall.

He went to it, his legs heavy and slow.  No, he 
thought.  Please, no.  He took a breath and pulled 
back the sheet with a trembling hand.

It wasn't Kate.  He let out the breath, knees 
trembling.  It was Erin; Jake must have sold his wife 
along with his soul.

"Agent Mulder."  Dr. Schultz's voice startled him, 
and he dropped the sheet back over Erin's bruised, 
still face.  "She's in here," he said, his hand 
resting on the door to a different room.

"How is she?"

"Physically she looks okay, but she's in shock.  She 
hasn't said much, except to tell us she isn't in any 
pain."  He opened the door and paused, as if deciding 
whether or not to go in with him.  "I'll be next door 
if she needs anything."

Mulder went in and closed the door softly behind him.  
"Kate?"  He could barely see her in the dim light of 
the lantern.  All he saw was a dark shape on the bed, 
shying away from the glow of the lantern.

He walked with care, not wanting to frighten her.  As 
he approached, the dark shape became Kate, huddled in 
a blanket, curled in a fetal position and facing the 
wall.  

Let her be all right, let her be all right, let her 
be all right, he chanted silently with each step.

He sat on the edge of the bed.  "Kate, it's me."  He 
laid his palm on her back.  "It's Mulder."  She 
didn't flinch at his touch, so he stroked her back, 
murmuring to her in soothing tones.  "You're all 
right now.  You're safe.  I won't let anyone hurt 
you, Katie, you're all right."

Beneath his hand, she shifted and he helped her sit 
up.  He took her cold hands in his, gently rubbing 
warmth back into them.  A rasping sigh was her 
response, and he put two fingers under her chin, 
tilting her pale face toward his.  With a blank 
stare, she met his gaze, and he pulled her forward 
into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her 
neck, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears from 
falling.

"I'm sorry."  Her hair and the scratchy wool of the 
blanket muffled his voice.

She raised a hand to cup the back of his head 
hesitantly, a brief caress.  "I don't want to be 
here," she whispered, her voice thick.

He pulled back and kissed her temple.  "Okay," he 
replied, stroking the pad of his thumb along the 
gaunt line of her cheek.  "Okay."

Mulder left the room and went next door, where Dr. 
Schultz was wrapping Suzanne's ankle in an ace 
bandage.  "I'm taking Kate home."

"Agent Mulder, she really should stay here, at least 
overnight."

"No.  She doesn't want to be here."  Mulder was firm.

Dr. Schultz sighed heavily and stood. "Be right 
back," he told Suzanne gently, touching her hair.  
She gave no response, and he sighed again.  He 
followed Mulder into Kate's room.  She sat on the 
bed, shaking.  "Look at her.  She's obviously in 
shock.  She's not going anywhere."

"No," Mulder repeated.  "Please, let me take her."

"Agent Mulder ..." 

Mulder spun around, violently overturning a metal 
tray of instruments. "I'm not AGENT Mulder!" he 
roared, and Dr. Schultz stepped back from his sudden 
rage.  "There is no more FBI, and there are no more 
fucking X-Files!  That life is OVER.  Now god damn 
it, I am taking her home."

The heavy silence that followed was broken by Dr. 
Schultz leaving and closing the door with more force 
than was necessary.  The noise shook him out of his 
trembling rage, and he let out his breath with a 
whoosh.

Mulder sat on the bed again and stroked her hair.  
"Let's get out of here."  Kate nodded, her teeth 
chattering loud enough for him to hear.  "Can you 
walk?"  He shifted to help her up, but she pushed his 
hand away and got off the bed herself.

In the hallway he stopped, seeing the others at the 
end of the hall.  Kate must have seen them as well, 
for she turned away quickly.  "What's wrong?" he 
asked.

She shook her head.  "I don't want to talk to 
anyone."

"We'll go around the back."

They walked the few blocks back home slowly, Mulder 
close at her side.  Halfway there, Kate stumbled and 
Mulder caught her before she fell, waiting while she 
composed herself.  She allowed him to help her the 
rest of the way, keeping a firm grip on his arm.

It took them another half hour to climb the ten 
flights of stairs.  Each time they had to stop for 
her to rest, Mulder berated himself for not making 
her stay at the hospital; she was too weak after her 
ordeal.

But they finally made it to her room.  Kate curled up 
on her bed and shivered, clutching the blanket around 
her.  Her eyes were open, and she stared at the wall 
while Mulder pulled her shoes off and tucked her 
under more blankets.

He sat beside her on the bed, running a soothing hand 
over her.  Were they still conducting the same tests?  
He swallowed over the lump of rage in his throat.  
Was Kate now barren?  He'd seen her take birth 
control pills daily - what would be her reaction if 
he told her to stop preventing what would never 
happen?

"I'm cold," she whispered, so he slipped under the 
blankets and curled his body around hers.

She drifted into sleep just as dawn broke; her 
shivers had ceased an hour before.  Feeling her relax 
in his arms, Mulder allowed himself to follow her.

XXX

Jill died two days later.  When Mulder told Kate, she 
had wept and pushed him away when he tried to comfort 
her.

She came to him later, surprising him with the 
childlike manner in which she curled up into his lap, 
wrapping her arms around him and snuffling into his 
neck.

He held her and tried not to think of the world of 
difference between Kate's demeanor and the way Scully 
had handled herself after her own abduction.

XXX

"Do you remember anything?"

She took the mug of instant soup from him and wrapped 
her hands around it.  Wisps of steam rose from the 
cup as she stared down into it.  "I remember being in 
pain," she said, quiet but matter of fact.

It had been four days since her return; she had slept 
for a solid day and night, then dozed off and on for 
the next.  Mulder had stayed with her, alternately 
watching and catching up on his own missed sleep.  

She woke several times in a blind panic, and he was 
there to calm her down.  Each time she did return to 
sleep, but Mulder came away from his vigil with 
bruised arms and a swollen lip.  He hoped she'd 
fought her abductors just as hard.

Today she was fully lucid, and they sat together on 
the small deck in the warm glow of the late afternoon 
sun.  She sipped at the soup he'd insisted she eat, 
he sat next to her and patiently waited for her to 
say more.

"Erin and Jake were there.  She injected me with 
something and said she was sorry."

"Erin is dead," he told her.

"Good."  Mulder waited for her to ask how, but she 
instead said, "I don't remember anything else."

Of course she didn't, he thought.  Her memories would 
come out in scattered pieces, most likely in her 
nightmares.  "I could hypnotize you."

She looked at him.  "What?"

"You could uncover your memories that way.  I did it 
once, to remember what happened to my sister, and 
Scully ."

"What makes you think I'd WANT to remember?" she 
asked, her eyes hard and dark.  "I told you I was in 
pain."

"I know.  I just want to know what ..."

"What?" she interrupted again, her knuckles white as 
she gripped the mug.  "You want to know what they DID 
to me?"  She slammed the empty cup down onto the 
table.  "They TOOK me, Mulder.  They drugged me and 
took me away and they hurt me.  I don't want to know 
what they did, and I hope I NEVER know."

He paused, trying to find the right words, to make 
her understand the importance of what he was 
suggesting.  "Kate, we need to know what they're 
doing with the abductees."

She shook her head vehemently, and he saw a tear drop 
from her eye.  "Fuck you," she said, her voice thick.  
"I'm already their guinea pig.  I'm not going to be 
yours."  She stood and walked inside, closing the 
door hard enough to make the pane of glass shudder in 
its frame.  

Mulder didn't follow.

XXX 

Mulder went to try and talk to Suzanne.  Dr. Schultz 
apparently remembered Mulder's outburst - he slammed 
the door behind him after bringing him to her room.

Jill was dead, Kate was recovering and Suzanne ...  
Aside from her broken ankle, Suzanne appeared to be 
physically unharmed.  She had not, however, spoken 
one word or made a sound since her return.  No one, 
Dr. Schultz had told him tersely, knew what to do 
with her, other than sit and wait.

Mulder pulled a chair over to her bedside.  "Hi, 
Suzanne."  Her eyes, half-open and staring, did not 
shift to him.  "It's Mulder, Kate's friend."

She blinked then, slowly, and he wondered if it was a 
response to his name or Kate's.  Mulder took it as a 
sign of encouragement either way.  "I know you're 
scared and hurt, but you're safe now.  I know you're 
not up for talking right now, but when you are, I'm 
going to ask for your help, all right?  I need to 
know if you remember what happened."  He kept his 
voice gentle and low, as soothing as he knew how to 
be.  "Kate's doing well; she said to say hello."

That was a lie; he hadn't spoken to Kate since the 
day before, when she had told him exactly how she 
felt about his lines of investigation.

Investigation - the very idea made him want to laugh.  
Just days ago he'd disavowed his title as "agent," 
and now he was investigating anyway.  

That life was so far behind him now; it seemed so far 
away and past.  But he had to do this - he owed it to 
Scully, to stop them from playing with anyone else's 
life the way they had toyed with hers.

And he owed it to Kate.

He was linked to Kate now.  He couldn't leave her and 
didn't want to leave her; she'd become his friend, 
his companion.  Mulder hated to think where he'd be 
if she hadn't insisted on going with him to 
California.  Dead, perhaps - washed into the sea 
after jumping from the cliffs, following Scully's 
cross into the waves below.

Kate had saved him from himself, in a way.  He owed 
her this.

But Suzanne had nothing to say, although at one point 
she turned her head and looked up at him with her 
empty brown eyes.  Mulder sat patiently by her side 
for several hours.  When he took her hand in his and 
she squeezed back ever so lightly, he stayed for 
several more.

XXX

When he got home, Kate was asleep on his bed, bathed 
in the flickering light of the kerosene lamp. Mulder 
watched her sleep for a few minutes before sitting on 
the edge of the bed.  He brushed a bit of dark hair 
from her face, and she opened her eyes.

She looked up at him and let him touch her softly.  
He thought she was waiting for him to say something, 
but then she spoke up:  "I'm sorry."

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip, then bent 
to kiss her.  When he pulled away and opened his 
mouth to tell her no, she had nothing to be sorry 
for, he was the one who was sorry, she sat up and 
kissed him again, cupping his face in her hands.

They kissed for long, slow minutes, stopping only 
when she dipped her head to press her lips to his 
throat.  She paused at the spot where the pulse 
throbbed beneath his skin and kissed him there before 
moving lower.  When she placed a reverent kiss in the 
hollow of his throat, he bent to capture her mouth 
with his own once again.

He soon spooned his naked body around hers, burying 
his face in her dark hair as she wrapped her hot 
fingers around his cock and guided him inside her.  
She gave a gasp and tensed upon his first thrust, and 
he paused.  "You okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered, taking his hand and placing it 
over her breast.  "Don't stop."  She reached a hand 
back to touch his cheek, and he kissed her palm 
softly.

"I missed you, Katie."  Her response was only a groan 
as he moved within her.  He smiled.

Only minutes later they laid side by side, facing 
each other.  Kate fought to keep her eyes open; 
Mulder held her hand in his, kissing her fingertips 
every so often.

"Stay here with me."

He saw a sheen of fear in her eyes and felt a pang of 
guilt; he hadn't stayed with her the night before 
after their argument, and he could only imagine what 
it must have been like for her to wake from her 
nightmare alone.

He drew her to him and held her close, kissing her 
forehead and nose.  But as she slept, he remained 
awake, knowing that if he wanted answers, he would 
have to leave her after all.

XXX

He knew he would never forget the look on Kate's face 
when he told her he was leaving: a stricken 
combination of hurt and betrayal.

"I'm coming back," he told her, pushing down the 
fresh guilt brought on by her reaction.  "I promise."

"Fine, " she said, the tremor in her voice revealing 
the tears she'd turned away to hide.  When she 
finally faced him again her eyes were dry, but now 
full of fear.  "What if you don't come back?"  He 
opened his mouth to reassure her, but she cut him 
off.  "Look at what they're doing to people!  They 
brought Jill back with her insides so fucked up that 
no one could help her!  Suzanne hasn't said one word 
since she's been back!"  Her voice had risen with 
panicked tones but when she spoke again, it was 
barely above a whisper.  "And what did they do to me, 
Mulder?"  She hugged herself protectively.  "Why am I 
the only one who seems to be all right?"

Mulder slumped forward in the chair with a defeated 
sigh.  "I don't know, Kate. Maybe whatever they're 
doing ... maybe it didn't work."

It hung unspoken in the silence between them: maybe 
it did.

XXX

The council and the Gunmen had fought him, had wanted 
someone else to go with him.  But Mulder knew that he 
had to do this alone. He was the only one who'd faced 
these men, and he was still fairly certain that they 
would not kill him.  If they were continuing with the 
project, or attempting to, he could only assume that 
he was still key, as they had told him before.

For what purpose, he didn't know.  He wasn't sure he 
wanted to know.  But he had to find out what they 
were doing.  Maybe he'd run across Krycek again.  The 
man was like a cockroach - exceedingly difficult to 
destroy, able to survive anything.

And so a week after Kate and the others had been 
returned, Mulder headed north.  No one had any idea, 
of course, where these people might be, or if they 
were even still there.  Mulder knew it might be a 
fruitless search, but he had to try.  He would head 
north, then east, and then to the south.  He didn't 
know how long he would be gone, but he hoped he would 
be home before the winter months, empty-handed or 
not.

After he'd told her his plans, Kate had agreed to be 
hypnotized, if it would keep him in the city, but 
she'd resisted, snapping out of the hypnosis before 
he could learn anything.  Her nightmares had been so 
horrific that night that he hadn't tried again, and 
Kate had tearfully agreed that he should go.

Night after night he stopped to rest, if not sleep, 
pitching his tent wherever he could find shelter. 
Sometimes he was able to stop in a small town and 
sleep in an empty house or store, out of the rain.  
It was the end of September and the cold, rainy 
months of winter would soon be coming.

During the journey across the states, he'd often 
dreamed of Scully, and now she appeared at night 
again, calling for help while he slept beside her.  
He dreamed of holding her limp body in his arms for 
hours, rocking her and crying.  He often woke with 
the tears still damp on his cheeks.

Mulder wondered why these dreams had returned.  He 
still thought of Scully, mourned the loss every day, 
but the dreams had slowly faded.  During the half 
year in Vancouver, she would come to him only 
occasionally, and she was as he remembered her - 
raising an eyebrow at his theories, rationalizing 
something they'd seen, or sometimes moaning his name, 
flushed and beautiful as he moved over her.

The days following the nightmares of Scully's death 
were full of waking memories, of conversations they'd 
had, moments of reprieve they'd shared, bad jokes she 
hadn't laughed at.

"Do you think the Gunmen made it?" she'd asked the 
evening before her death, looking up at the stars 
overhead.

Mulder had scoffed.  "Of course they made it.  
They're the Gunmen."  A pause, and then, "I'm sorry 
we couldn't find your mother."

Scully hadn't answered for a long while.  Finally, 
her voice thick with unshed tears, she'd said, "At 
least we were able to warn her.  All I can do is hope 
she's alive."

They'd both known that they wouldn't see her again.  
And when he'd woken up the next morning, Scully was 
dead beside him, and all of their supplies were gone.

Now Mulder woke up alone, either Scully's or Kate's 
dream face fresh in his mind.

He walked north, then to the east, and to the south, 
moving in a zig-zag pattern in the hopes of finding 
something he might miss if he stayed on the main 
highways.  For nearly two months, he'd seen nothing, 
heard nothing, come across no other survivors.  

It was nearing the end of November, and Mulder was 
getting tired.  He'd already walked so far after 
Scully's death, and here he was doing it again.  He 
often thought he should just head home; the stakes 
had been pulled up from wherever they had been, the 
abductors were long gone. These thoughts came more 
and more frequently as his frustration grew.  If it 
weren't for his dreams of Kate and Scully, reminding 
him of why he was searching, he would have gone home 
weeks ago.

One hundred and fifty miles southeast of the city, 
Mulder stopped for the night before it was fully 
dark.  The next day's terrain would be difficult, 
according to his map, and he would need as much rest 
as he could get.  He zipped up the tent and laid down 
on the sleeping bag, his hand resting on his gun, as 
always.

But the gun could not protect him from the truth.  
Two days later, he found what he was looking for.

XXX

When I was thirteen, I found my aunt's copy of "Our 
Bodies, Ourselves," and spent many fascinating hours 
pouring over it.  The pictures of women dead from 
botched, self-performed abortions stuck with me for 
years, and it was the one thing that stopped me from 
doing it myself.

I was pregnant.  I assumed - hoped - that it was 
Mulder's. We had, after all, had sex after I'd been 
off the Pill for two full weeks.  The other option, 
that THEY had somehow done this to me, was 
unthinkable.

I'd never been regular and thanks to the stresses and 
changes of the past year, I rarely had a period 
anymore.  But it was the six mornings in a row spent 
hunched over the toilet that clued me in.

Night after night, I lay in bed with my hand on my 
stomach and tried to imagine Mulder's reaction.  
Assuming he came back, that is.  Questions flew into 
my head and refused to leave.  

Who was I to bring a child into this world? Was I 
giving birth to hope, or to just another sacrificial 
lamb to the aliens on their next time around?  How 
would I get through the pain of childbirth?  What if 
Mulder was angry?  What if I had to do this alone?

I had always imagined that when I had a child, I'd be 
happily married with a nice house, a great husband, 
maybe a dog.  I'd stay home and raise the baby until 
he or she started school, and then I'd go back to 
work, probably part-time.  I'd show my mom and 
grandma the baby pictures, and they'd respond with 
love and smiles.  I'd be so proud.

But now I had no one: no family, no friends who would 
let me cry on their shoulder - one was dead, the 
other wasting away to nothing in her catatonic state 
- and a lover who I might not ever see again.

It felt strange to think of Mulder as my lover.  We 
slept together, we cared for and about one another, 
but love wasn't involved.  If it was, we hid it well 
- him from me and me from myself.

How would love make itself known now?  Would I meet 
another survivor and start thinking about him all the 
time?  Would my heart beat faster when he came into 
the room?  Would I realize that I would lay down my 
life for him?

Or maybe what we had was all we could hope for now.  
Maybe this was it.  I missed him and worried about 
him, and I hoped he would come back soon.  I didn't 
care if he had any answers or not.  I just wanted him 
home, wanted to tell him and see his reaction so I 
could get it over with.

Mulder had been gone for almost two months when I 
finally gathered the courage to see Dr. Schultz.  I 
sat in the chair by the window and looked down at my 
feet as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes 
with a sigh.

"Okay," he said softly after a long silence.  "Okay, 
Kate."  We would deal with it, like we'd dealt with 
everything else that had come our way.

Two days later, Mulder was back.

XXX

He went to see the council first, which stung a 
little but also relieved me; I didn't mind putting 
off telling him my news.  I was with the children at 
the time anyway, sitting with them in a bookstore and 
keeping watch while they read and played.

Moira came to tell me he was back.  "He said he 
didn't find anything.  If there were any people or 
any facilities around Vancouver, they're gone now."

"Did he say anything else?" I asked, not sure what I 
was hoping to hear.

She shook her head and stood to leave.  "No.  He 
looked like he was about to collapse, Kate.  I think 
he went straight home to sleep."

The rest of the afternoon dragged on, but the kids 
finally returned to their parents and foster 
families, and I hurried home.

Mulder didn't answer my soft knock, so I let myself 
in.  He was asleep, sprawled on his stomach on top of 
the blankets.  His hair was too long, I thought 
absently as I stood by the bed and looked down at 
him.

As much as I wanted to crawl into the bed, I didn't 
want to disturb him.  Instead, I pulled up a chair to 
his bedside and watched over him, occasionally 
reaching out a hand to stroke his hair, his back.  
Eventually I drifted off myself, my hand resting on 
his forearm.

When I woke again it was dark.  The only sound in the 
room was the rain falling onto the quiet streets and 
buildings outside.  I blinked the fuzziness from my 
eyes and rubbed them before noticing that Mulder was 
awake and watching me.

"Hi there," I whispered, swallowing past the 
nervousness and fear and managing a small smile.

He squeezed my fingers before bringing them to my 
lips and kissing them lightly.  "Hi."

I leaned over to run my free hand through his hair.  
Tears sprang to my eyes as he pressed a second, 
longer kiss to my palm.  "I missed you."

He pulled my head down to his, and as we kissed I 
could feel his fingers trembling against the back of 
my neck.  He moved over to give me room, and I lay 
down next to him, resting my head on his shoulder.  

I splayed my fingers over his heart.  With every 
strong beat, the same two words echoed through my 
brain: Tell him. Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

But I didn't say anything.  I didn't want to say 
anything, I didn't want to hear anything. I just 
wanted to lie here and be here with Mulder, relieved 
and glad to have him back in one piece.  Apparently 
he felt the same way; neither of us spoke, or smiled, 
or barely even moved.  

And when his breathing became deeper and heavier and 
I thought he had fallen asleep again, I licked my dry 
lips and tested the words I would soon need to say:  
"I'm pregnant, Mulder." 

When he wrapped his arms around me, I knew he had 
heard me.  I tensed in his embrace, waiting for his 
stunned response, but there was none.  He only 
continued to hold me, turning me onto my side so he 
could curl his body around mine.

His hand moved to my still-flat abdomen and caressed 
it, and my eyes filled with tears of relief.  It was 
going to be all right.  I drifted off to sleep with 
that relieved thought.

A sound woke me sometime later.  Mulder's arms were 
still around me, and his face was pressed into the 
curve of my shoulder.  But he was crying, tears 
soaking my shirt as he muffled his sobs.

I didn't know what to make of it.

XXX

As we walked to the Gunmen's place the next day, he 
asked, "Do you remember anything more, Kate?"

I didn't have to ask what he was talking about.  
"Only small things."  They had filtered in and out of 
my dreams while he was gone, and hadn't faded until I 
learned I was pregnant.  "I remember being in pain, 
and sometimes there's a woman's voice, telling me 
that everything will be all right.  I can't see her, 
but she sounds kind."  I let out a little snort, 
thinking that anyone who was involved was anything 
but kind.  "There's a cold table, and sometimes I 
think I can smell cigarette smoke."

Mulder clenched his jaw so tight that I could see the 
bones jutting out beneath his bronzed skin.  After a 
moment, he exhaled heavily and squeezed my hand in 
reassurance.  

He didn't ask again.  In fact, he barely said 
anything to me over the next few days.  I would catch 
him watching me, staring at me, but he wouldn't talk 
to me.  I started staring back, trying to intimidate 
or shame him into talking to me.  But all I got in 
response was a good look at what was in his eyes.

I saw sadness there, which was nothing new, but now I 
also found fear and anger.  I finally had to look 
away, heart pounding at what I had seen.

He was acting strangely; it was almost as if he knew 
something but didn't know quite how to say it.  I 
wondered if he had learned something on his trip and 
was trying to figure out what to do about it.

Four days after his return, I couldn't take it 
anymore.  "What's going on?" I asked.  He was sitting 
on his deck despite the steady drizzle, and I had 
marched right up to him without any preamble.

He turned his head to me in a slow movement, almost 
like he had been in a trance, or lost in some far-off 
dream world.  "Kate?"

"You know something," I accused.  "What 
aren't you telling me?"  When he just fixed 
me with that undying stare again, my voice 
rose.  "Quit staring at me and tell me 
what's going on, God damn it!"  I felt a 
little like a nagging wife trying to get her 
lazy husband to tell her where he'd been all 
night, and lowered my voice again.  "Please.  
Don't hide anything from me."

He frowned and turned away, a pained look on his 
face.  After chewing on his lower lip for a minute, 
he turned back to me.  "Kate ..."  He leaned forward 
and covered his face with his hands.  "It's 
complicated."  He gave a short, humorless laugh, as 
if he knew how silly that sounded.  He dropped his 
hands and reached for my own.  I let him take them, 
although I was still impatient to hear what he had to 
say.

No shit, it was complicated, I thought.  We live in a 
dead world and I'm having a baby.  "What's 
complicated?"

He looked down at our joined hands.  "I need a while 
to think," he said, rubbing his thumb over my 
knuckles.

"About the baby?"  The words sounded foreign to my 
ears.  Mulder's head snapped up, and a look of 
surprise flashed across his face.  But it was gone 
just as quickly, and he gave his head a brief shake.  
"I know."  I pulled my hands from his grasp and 
shoved them into my pockets.  "If there was a way, 
I'd have an abortion.  I don't want to bring a child 
into this world."  Tears sprang to my eyes, but I 
blinked them away.  "I'm sorry. I should have ."

"No," he interrupted, looking as if he might cry 
himself.  "No, Kate.  Don't."  He raised a hand to 
touch my stomach gently.  "Don't.  It's just ..."  His 
hand dropped.  "I just need a little time, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered.

I planned to stay out of his way for a while, but I 
didn't even see him.  Two nights later, he crawled 
into bed behind me, curling his long body around mine 
and whispering, "Go back to sleep, Kate."  He stroked 
my hair and kissed me, and I easily obliged, slipping 
back into sleep.

XXX

I made the decision to confront him almost a week 
after his return. I had given him his space; I didn't 
hound him, I didn't pressure him.  But I was sick of 
this secret bullshit conspiracy crap that Mulder and 
the Gunmen were always talking about.  He couldn't 
justify hiding it from me anymore; I was involved 
now, too.  The people who had taken me had made sure 
of that.

When I got home, someone was already waiting for me, 
sitting calmly on the bed.  It wasn't Mulder.

The gut instinct to yell for help froze in my throat 
as I studied him by the dim lantern light; he looked 
familiar.  He looked much older than he probably was; 
his dark, thick hair that had not yet begun to turn 
gray contradicted the lines on his face and the 
sadness in his eyes.  

"Kate."  There was relief in his deep voice.

"Help!" I broke out of my stillness.  "Mulder!"  I 
turned to run down the hall and almost ran into 
Mulder, who burst out of his room.  "There's someone 
in my room!"

"Kate, wait!"  The stranger came into the hall.  
Mulder gasped, and I turned my eyes back to him.

"Kate, go inside and wait for me," Mulder said 
without looking at me.

But I faced the stranger instead, wanting to know why 
he looked so familiar to me.  "Who are you?"

"I'm one of the doctors who worked on you when you 
were taken."

The lantern trembled in my hand.  "What?" I hissed, a 
chill running through my body.

Mulder put a firm hand on my shoulder.  "No," he 
said, a plea in his voice.  "Don't do this."

I shrugged off Mulder's hand and watched them 
exchange a glance.  "She deserves to know, Agent 
Mulder."

Mulder knew him?  "What the fuck is going on?"

"They said I'd be helping humanity."  The man's voice 
turned bitter.  "But their definition of "helping" 
was different than mine."  

My mouth opened and shut a few times as I tried to 
process what he was saying.  I noticed someone down 
the hall staring at us, drawn out by the commotion.  
We stepped back into my room and faced each other, a 
bizarre standoff.

"Mulder, what's going on?" I demanded, but his 
response wasn't directed at me.

"I need to be the one to tell her."  His voice was 
quiet.

The man shook his head impatiently.  "No."

I couldn't stand there and wait while they decided.  
I jabbed a finger in Mulder's direction. "You had 
your chance.  You knew since you got back.  If you 
couldn't tell me before, then you're shit out of luck 
now."

Mulder's response surprised me.  I expected argument 
or anger, but he only nodded briefly after looking at 
me with sad eyes.  He walked away, standing by the 
window, shoulders slumped.

"I couldn't do it anymore," the stranger said.  "And 
they'll be coming to kill me now, once they find out 
that I'm gone."

"Good," I snapped.  

"I didn't come here for sympathy.  I just thought you 
should know what was done to you.  I want to ... I 
don't know. Try to make something right."

"Telling me will clear your conscience so you can get 
into heaven when they shoot you in the back?"

He shook his head.  "No.  What I was made to do to 
you was far from the worst, Kate.  You have no idea."  
He bowed his head.

"Then tell me," I said through clenched teeth.

He threw a glance in Mulder's direction; Mulder 
didn't turn around.  "You know you're pregnant, don't 
you?"  Needles of cold fear pricked my skin; my hands 
began to shake.  "The baby is Mulder's, but you're 
not the mother - Dana Scully is."  

I wanted to laugh, feeling something akin to relief.  
"That's crazy!"  I jerked my head, as if trying to 
turn away from such a bizarre idea.  "This is MY 
baby.  I'd been off the Pill for two weeks, and we 
were careless."  

He shook his head.  "This was no mistake, Kate.  Your 
ova were removed before they put her fertilized egg 
into you."  He sighed.  "Even if they hadn't given 
you the fertilized ovum, you wouldn't be capable of 
bearing a child."

This couldn't be true. It was ridiculous!  "What?  
You're lying!" I insisted.

"I wish I were, Kate."  He took a step toward me, and 
I raised the lantern as if it were a gun.  I hadn't 
realized it was still in my hand.  "I'm sorry."  

"You're sorry," I repeated in a whisper.  "What ... but 
this is crazy!"  

"I just wanted you to know."  His voice trembled, and 
he passed a hand over his face.  "I'm sorry I can't 
do more for you."

I stared at him.

Finally, Mulder turned from the window and crossed 
back to us.  "Get out," he told the man.

The man looked Mulder squarely in the eyes.  "I 
sought you out, Agent Mulder.  I risked my life to 
find you."

"Get out!" Mulder yelled.  

The man - this doctor who had turned me into an 
experiment - gave me one final glance before slipping 
quietly out the door.

"Kate," Mulder began, but I interrupted him, moving 
to sit on the bed, not facing him.  

"You knew."  I was surprised at the level of calm I 
was able to maintain in my voice.  Inside, I was 
churning like the ocean; I felt heavy and dark.  
"Were you planning on telling me this?"

He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, not 
facing me.  I was glad; I didn't think I could look 
at him.  "I thought I was protecting you," he said, 
sounding defeated.  I was still trying to find words 
to yell at him when he continued.  "I guess I nearly 
stumbled across their camp.  Tom heard that I was 
nearby and decided to find me, I guess."

"Tom," I breathed.  So the messenger had a name.  
"You guess."  This was so bizarre.  My head was 
spinning.  A laugh rose in my throat, and I choked on 
it as I asked, "Is it true?  How can it be true?  How 
can it even be possible?"

Mulder paused.  "They had my sperm, and Scully's 
eggs, which were altered to include a vaccine."  His 
voice wavered.  "They were trying to create the 
perfect human, immune to the virus that the colonists 
were supposed to bring."  

It sounded rehearsed, despite the tremor.  I closed 
my eyes and tried to picture him practicing, thinking 
of ways to tell me.  "So I am an experiment."  I knew 
all along that I had been, but learning its purpose 
made it all the more real.

Anger rose up in me like a wave, hot tears stinging 
my eyes.  "Are you grateful they're giving you 
Scully's baby?"  A red film dropped over my eyes as 
the anger rose; a tear dropped onto my hand and I 
half expected it to be tinged with the same color.

"No," he whispered.  "Jesus."

I was panting now, the rage and fear washing over me.  
I clutched two handfuls of my hair and doubled over 
as the sobs tore out of my throat.  Mulder was 
instantly at my side, but I hit out at him.  "Get 
away from me!"  I pushed and clawed at him, kicked to 
get away, but he was too big, he was all around me, 
wrapped around me in an obscene parody of the way we 
sometimes slept.

Even as his hot tears wet my hair, I fought him, 
shouting out wordless fury and attacking him wherever 
I could reach.  "Stop," he sobbed.  "Kate, stop.  
Please."

I let out another burst of rage, but the wave was 
subsiding and I was now panting out of exertion.  My 
body slowly uncoiled until I was limp within his 
arms; my tears showed no sign of stopping.

Mulder reached for my hand.  "I don't ... I don't know 
what to say."

"How about 'I'm sorry,' you son of a bitch?"  My 
voice was muffled by tears and the blankets.  As if 
"sorry" would help anything. 

He must have agreed, surely he knew it was a 
pointless gesture, but he said it anyway.  Over and 
over again, sobbing into my shoulder, matting my hair 
to my skin with his tears. 

"Let me up," I mumbled when he had calmed down.  "I'm 
going to be sick."  He rolled off me and I dashed to 
the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time.

The situation settled over me like a heavy, wet wool 
blanket, smothering me with its weight.  I pressed my 
damp, hot face against the cool porcelain and wiped a 
shaking hand over my mouth.

Part of me wanted to run back into the bedroom and 
hit him, scream at him.  Part of me wanted to run 
back into the bedroom and into his arms; the other 
part wanted to grab him and fuck the truth right out 
of my head, so I could live in blissful ignorance 
again.

I didn't know how long I was in the dark bathroom, 
but Mulder eventually helped me to my feet; I let 
him, too drained to struggle.  As he carried me back 
to the bed, I felt like I should be humiliated at 
being carried like an invalid.  I couldn't bring 
myself to care.

He stayed by my side throughout the night; neither of 
us slept.  "Why?" I whispered when the sun began to 
inch through the window.  "Why couldn't I have just 
died with everybody else?"

Mulder laid a cool hand on my cheek and pressed a 
hesitant kiss to my forehead.  His eyes were dark and 
tired, but not hollow as I was sure mine must have 
looked.  "Because then I would be dead, too."

I wasn't sure I wanted to be his savior, much less 
anyone else's, but I closed my eyes and finally 
slept.

XXX

Tom was found a week later in a field outside the 
city with a gun in his hand.  We knew it wasn't 
suicide, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

XXX

I was nearly three months pregnant, and I didn't know 
whether to care for the baby as best I could, or do 
my best to cause a miscarriage.

Dr. Schultz seemed to sense my conflict.  "You know, 
Kate," he said one day after I stepped off the scale, 
"your body will protect the fetus before it protects 
you."  He handed me a bag with bottles of vitamins.  
"So you might as well take care of yourself."

Mulder and I didn't talk about it.  He couldn't have 
avoided my resentment; I often felt like it was 
rolling off me in waves.  Not only was I carrying a 
baby I didn't want, it wasn't even my baby.  I 
couldn't blame the baby for what had been done, and 
that only added to my resentment.

I didn't know where to lay all of it.  It wasn't fair 
to take it out on the baby, and I'd only be hurting 
myself.  It would be too easy to place it on Mulder, 
to lash out at him every chance I got, but he seemed 
to be doing a fine job of carrying the guilt as it 
was.

He did his best not to hover.  I wasn't sure if he 
was more concerned about me or his baby, and that 
didn't help, either.

As much as I didn't want this, I couldn't ignore it.  
Against my will, I started dreaming of babies. 
Sometimes Mulder was there, loving the baby and 
discarding me; sometimes we were a family, happy and 
together.  But in every dream, the baby had red hair.

XXX

"Kate, we need to talk."

It had been a month since I had found out; my 
pregnancy was entering the second trimester.  Mulder 
and I hadn't really talked since that night, and we'd 
barely even touched each other.  There was a third 
person between us now; she'd always been there, a 
ghost of a presence, but now she was more concrete.

We walked the few blocks to one of the buildings with 
a fireplace; once winter had set in, the council had 
set to work distributing more blankets and winter 
clothes, and designating buildings where people could 
go for warmth.

The sun had come out that morning, and so we were the 
only ones in the lobby of the hotel.  The large room 
had been cleaned thoroughly to receive visitors, but 
the rest of the building seemed to sag from lack of 
care.

Mulder started a fire and I settled into an 
overstuffed chair, putting my feet up on the matching 
footstool.  If I stepped outside myself for a moment, 
I could almost imagine that we were a normal family, 
having a lazy winter afternoon in front of a cozy 
fire.

Almost.

Once the fire was lit, Mulder sat on the couch in 
front of me and looked at his knees.  "They didn't do 
this out of the goodness of their hearts, Kate.  
They're going to want this baby back." 

My hands instinctively rose to the swell of my 
abdomen.  "Fuck them.  If they think they're just 
going to waltz back and take my baby, they're crazy."  
I paused, replaying my words in my mind.  

My baby.  It was rare that I thought of it as my 
baby, and not just the product of an experiment, not 
just someone else's baby.  But the protectiveness had 
swelled up inside me with Mulder's words, and I knew 
that I had meant what I said.

Mulder's lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile; I 
thought I saw relief in his eyes.  He nodded in 
approval.  "No," he said. "I'm not going to let that 
happen."  The slight amusement faded from his face.  
"We're going to have to leave."  He looked down at 
his hands, fidgeting in his lap.  "We can go to 
Denver; I'm fairly certain they still don't know 
about the survivors there."

The thought of leaving Vancouver should have upset 
me, should have even frightened me, but I merely 
nodded.  It had to be done.

"But either we leave now and risk going through bad 
weather, or we wait until the baby's born and risk ..."

"Them finding us first," I finished for him.  My 
hands absently stroked my belly as if I were rubbing 
a crystal ball, looking for guidance.  "I think we 
should go now."  But even as I said the words, I 
didn't feel right about them.  Looking at Mulder's 
face, I could see he agreed.

"It's a big risk, either way," he murmured.  "I don't 
..."  He cleared his throat.  "I don't want you to get 
hurt."

I couldn't argue with that.  Logic told me that 
traveling now would put the baby at too much risk, 
and having that kind of problem in the middle of 
nowhere wouldn't be so good for me, either.

"Why don't we sleep on it," I suggested, as if we 
were having a discussion on whether or not we should 
buy a new SUV.

"Yeah," he agreed softly.

We sat in awkward silence, knowing that we didn't 
have much choice; we would have to wait.

XXX

We started sleeping together again, curled up around 
each other for warmth in the cold, damp nights. We 
had reached a truce of sorts - he stopped pussy-
footing around me and stopped wearing his guilt on 
his sleeve; I did my best to accept what I had been 
given, what had been done to me.  This baby needed a 
mother, and I was the only one who could do that.

But on the day after Christmas, we were eating in 
front of a fire with the Gunmen when Frohike put down 
his soup spoon and said, "We've been receiving 
reports from the camps."

"Of?" Mulder prompted.

Frohike exchanged a glance with Byers.  "The 
abductees are getting sick."

I dropped my fork with a clatter.  "What do you mean, 
'sick'?"  Mulder's voice was low and tight.

Byers folded his hands on the table in front of him, 
as if praying for guidance before delivering the 
news.  "Headaches, dizzy spells, weight loss."  He 
lowered his gaze.  "Nosebleeds."
  
Mulder put his silverware down with measured care and 
covered his face with his hands.  Byers and Frohike 
looked at me with more sympathy than I'd ever seen on 
their faces.  I suddenly lost my appetite.

"Take me home," I whispered, my mouth dry with fear.  
Mulder held my hand tightly all the way back.

In my chilly room, I draped my coat over a chair and 
faced Mulder.  He looked back at me, his Adam's Apple 
bobbing over unshed tears or unspoken words.  "Tell 
me," I said, sounding calmer than I felt.

"Cancer," he said, his voice trembling.  "Most likely 
a naso-pharyngeal tumor."  Somehow, I wasn't 
surprised.  "Scully had it," he continued.  "But it 
didn't develop until she removed a chip that had been 
implanted in her neck.  And we think another chip put 
it into remission."

I swallowed.  "And do I have a chip in my neck?"

He shook his head.  "I was hoping that it would be 
different this time; I didn't know what they were 
doing, maybe different tests would have different 
results."

"Apparently not."  I sank slowly onto the bed.  "So 
now what?"

He shifted, then hesitated, as if he weren't sure if 
I would allow him to sit by me.  Perhaps my calm 
demeanor had caught him off guard.  "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."  I leaned my elbows on my knees and 
rested my head in my hands.  "I'm going to die."

Mulder knelt in front of me and put his hands on 
either side of my hips.  "Maybe there's a chip that 
can cure this, just like it did before."

"You're not going to put a chip in me!" I yelled from 
behind my hands.  "Knowing these people, I'm sure 
those things served some purpose other than saving 
Scully's life."  He didn't have anything to say to 
that.

"You're right.  But we have time.  We'll figure 
something out.  They wouldn't have timed the 
experiment so you would be sick before the baby is 
born."  He put his hands on my shoulders.  "We have 
time."

I raised my head and pushed his hands away.  "What do 
I have?" I asked bitterly.  "I have nothing.  I have 
a baby that they're going to take from me, and a 
disease that will kill me."

"You have me, Kate."  His voice was firm.  "I won't 
let this happen."  His face was blurred through my 
tears, and my shoulders sagged.  He raised a hand 
again to stroke my face; I leaned into his palm in a 
moment of sorrow.  "Kate, I ..."

"Don't."

He swallowed the unspoken words and blinked back his 
own tears.  "You're not going to die," he promised, 
his voice fierce.  

I wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn't 
deliver, but he was crying now, looking at me like he 
could make his words gospel by sheer force of will.  
I took his hands in mine and kissed the dry skin of 
his knuckles.

I didn't know if Mulder could save me, or if I could 
save myself.  All I knew was that they were not going 
to take my baby.

XXX
 
By the fifth month of my pregnancy, I was beginning to 
feel a bit like the main attraction in a circus.  
Granted, I was the only pregnant woman in the entire 
city, but on top of my already swirling hormones, the 
attention irritated me.

Mulder and I were the only ones who knew about the 
true parentage of my baby.  We didn't feel it was 
necessary to tell anyone else; it would only have 
added to the stares and whispers that already followed 
me wherever I went.

After months of distrust, the Gunmen seemed to have 
finally accepted me and stopped blaming me for not 
being Scully.  They had given me the boom box for 
Christmas; I was so touched I almost cried right there 
at the table.  I was sure they didn't think too highly 
of me being pregnant, but there wasn't much I could do 
about that.

Mulder did his best not to hover and fret, but I could 
sense how antsy he was around me.  I knew he was 
concerned for me as well as the baby, but sometimes I 
caught myself wondering if he would care as much if it 
were OUR baby, and not his and Scully's.

It was unfair of me to think that, because I knew he 
loved me in his own way, no matter who I was or who I 
wasn't.  We slept together in the king-sized bed, 
huddled together for warmth underneath the wool 
blankets.  He was tender and yet chaste, and it was 
beginning to drive me a little batty.

I had read as many books I could on pregnancy before 
their "isn't motherhood wonderful" cooing started to 
depress me, and every one of them had talked about the 
increased sex drive of a pregnant woman.

Mulder kissed and held me, but I started to wonder if 
he were clueless about the things pregnancy did to a 
woman.  My mood swings and alternating nausea and 
appetite nonplused him, but I figured cliches took a 
long time to die.

I didn't have the weird cravings like ice cream and 
pickles, but we did have a lot of fun late at night, 
talking about all the foods we missed, and what we 
would eat if we woke up tomorrow to find it had all 
been a dream.

"Steak."

"Fettuccini alfredo."

"A cold glass of milk."

"Pizza."

But we never did wake up back in our own beds, back in 
a world of noise and people, back in a world where I 
muddled through a mid-twenties career crisis and 
Scully lived at Mulder's side.  When morning came, I 
was still carrying another woman's baby in a quiet, 
half-dead world.

XXX

Signs of life began to appear before spring began.  
The council had decided that the weary citizens of 
Vancouver had spent enough time living in small hotel 
rooms, and families would be able to move into houses.

To us, families could be everything from mom-dad-
daughter-son, to man-man-informally adopted children, 
to man-woman-unborn child of another woman.  So teams 
of workers were cleaning out houses, making them as 
livable as they could.  

We both knew we would only be there until the baby was 
big enough to travel, and when I saw the house, I was 
almost sorry we'd have to leave.  It would be nice to 
have a place to call my own - our own, anyway.  The 
pretense of raising a child had precluded any debate 
over our living arrangements, but I wondered if Mulder 
and I could have become a family on our own.  

I still lay awake at night and thought about the 
wisdom of bringing a child into this world.  I 
wondered if I should have tried to cause a 
miscarriage, if only to stop the work of those who had 
helped to bring about this apocalypse.

But in doing so, I very well could have harmed myself, 
and I hadn't come this far to die.  They didn't beat 
me at the end of the world, and they weren't going to 
beat me now.  They would have nothing, and we would 
have a child.  We would be watching over our shoulders 
for the rest of our lives, but we would have hope.

XXX

As February began, the fact that spring was still a 
good three months away settled into my brain like an 
unwelcome house guest and refused to leave.  The rain 
fell daily, sometimes in a downpour, sometimes in 
drizzle, and I could count the number of times I'd 
seen the sun since fall on one hand.

I was tired of reading, bored with taking walks under 
an umbrella, and sick of sitting in my room with my 
ever-changing stack of CDs.  Once in a while, I played 
with the kids and their new helpers, Tracy and Ashley.  
The younger kids would come up to me and ask me 
questions, or shyly touch my swollen belly.

"Does it hurt?" they asked.  "Who's the daddy?  How 
did it get there?  Is it in your tummy?"

Most of the questions were answered with the truth or 
an evasion of the sex talk that they were too young 
for.  Part of me waited for one of them to ask, "Who's 
the mommy?" 

Mulder was often at the Gunmen's all day.  I wasn't 
always sure what they did over there; sometimes they 
tinkered with electronics, trying to find something 
salvageable.  I knew they always kept one ear tuned to 
the radio, waiting for news or even just small talk 
from a lonely soul somewhere in America.

The abductees continued to get sick.  I half hoped 
that it was a fluke - after all, an aborted attempt at 
colonization wouldn't mean the end of illness.  The 
women were literally wasting away before our eyes - or 
at least our ears, as Mulder, the Gunmen and the 
council kept a tense vigil around the radio, waiting 
for the weekly updates from the other cities.

On a damp evening in February, he came home and paused 
in the doorway with a secretive smile.  "What?" I 
asked, smiling back as he lingered by the door.

"I have something for you."  

"Yeah?  So let's see it."   He turned back into the 
hall and reemerged with a huge chocolate brown teddy 
bear.  "Wow," I said with a laugh.  "That's a big 
bear."

He closed the door behind him and brought the toy to 
me, setting it beside me on the bed.  "Byers and 
Frohike wanted me to bring it to you."

I stroked the soft fur with my hands.  "They did?"

Mulder wiped the dust from the bear's glassy dark 
eyes.  "Missed a spot," he murmured.  "Yeah."

"That was nice of them."  I dropped the bear's paw 
back into its lap. "Why?"

He sat down on the other side of the bear and kicked 
off his wet shoes.  "They don't hate you, Kate."

"Oh, I know.  They just seem so ... horrified by all of 
this."

His eyes met mine over the bear's head.  "Who wouldn't 
be?"

Tears sprang to my eyes, but I blinked them away 
before they could fall.  There wasn't anything I could 
say in response to that, so I just looked down at my 
hands and tried not to cry.  

Something soft touched my shoulder, and I looked up to 
see the bear.  Mulder hid behind it, making the stubby 
paws stroke my arm.  "Don't cry.  I can't BEAR it when 
you cry," he said in a squeaky voice.  His head 
appeared over the bear's, a hopeful smile on his face.  
"Why are you looking at me like I'm from another 
planet?"

My lips twitched.  "Did you HEAR the voice that came 
out of your face?"

He thrust the bear at me, growling like it was 
attacking me.  I laughed and pushed back at it, 
surprised but pleased by this uncharacteristic burst 
of playfulness.  He gently pinned me back onto the bed 
with the bear, and I hugged it for a moment before 
tossing it behind me.

Mulder lay on his side next to me, propped up on one 
elbow.  He dropped a soft kiss onto my mouth and 
reached down to caress my belly.  "Hey," he murmured.  
"It's going to be all right."

I licked my lips, wanting to be kissed again.  "It 
is?"

He took the bait, and this kiss was a lingering one.  
"It is.  We're going to have a beautiful baby, and 
we'll get out of here.  We'll be safe."

The unspoken fear of the cancer hung between us, but I 
ignored it, concentrating again on his lips.  He 
hovered over me for too long, and I grew impatient, 
reaching up to capture his mouth with my own.

"Want to go find some dinner?" he asked when we 
parted.

"No.  Make love to me." 

He blinked. "Right now?"

I raised a hand to stroke my fingers through the hair 
at the back of his neck.  "We've barely touched in 
months, Mulder."  I pulled his head down and kissed 
him again, twining my tongue with his.

"I thought," He was trembling suddenly, and I clasped 
his fingers in mine, "it would ... be weird for you.  I 
mean, knowing the things that we know, and ... what's 
happened."

"It's okay." I tried to fill my words with 
understanding instead of disappointment.  "I know it's 
weird," I said lamely, for lack of a better word.

I let go of his hand to let him pull away, but he 
dipped his head and kissed me.  He kissed me like he 
hadn't in months and I gasped beneath him, grasping at 
whatever parts of him I could reach: his shoulders, 
his face, his arms and shoulders, squeezing and 
pressing his hot skin.

Thank God, thank God, I thought as he moved over me, 
drawing my sweatpants over my hips and down my legs, 
trailing his mouth over the skin he exposed.  I shoved 
down my underwear and kicked them aside before 
reaching up to pull Mulder back down to me, kissing 
him, tugging his lower lip between my teeth, soothing 
with my tongue.

My body had softened over the past six months, and it 
was a welcome feeling to feel soft curves instead of 
sharp, undernourished ones.  I didn't miss seeing what 
I'd begun calling "my bony self" when I looked in the 
mirror.  I felt lush and sexy, and while I knew Mulder 
had found me desirable before, the way he looked at me 
now made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the 
world.  Granted, there wasn't much competition 
anymore, but still.

I struggled with the buttons of the heavy flannel over 
shirt I wore, but Mulder helped me with the last few; 
my hands were shaking too much.  My breasts had become 
fuller and heavier, making bras almost unbearable most 
days.  I had forgone the undergarment today, and I 
could see the appreciation on Mulder's face as I 
yanked the tee shirt over my head.

He bent to take one into his mouth with an almost 
grateful sound, and I returned the sentiment, holding 
him to me as his lips and tongue played over the 
nipple, tugging and stroking.  It felt so good but it 
soon became too much, and I drew him up back to my 
lips.  He didn't let go of my mouth as he struggled 
out of his own damp clothes; our tongues teased and 
darted, licking and twining.

He smelled like cold rain and fireplace smoke.  I 
couldn't get enough of him, breathing him in and 
tasting his skin as he lowered me back to the bed.  
The stuffed bear was behind me and I leaned against 
it, liking the way its plush form felt against my 
back.

Mulder spread my legs apart and I bent my knees, ready 
to take him inside me.  But he instead moved lower, 
settling between my thighs, stroking the soft skin 
there with his hands, tickling the thatch of hair with 
his hot breath.

His tongue moved over me in slow, smooth strokes, and 
it wasn't long before I could feel the orgasm building 
within me.  "God," I hissed, threading my fingers 
through his thick hair and holding him in place.

As my breaths quickened and my hips moved against him, 
he crooked his finger inside me and stroked 
insistently.  I flew off the edge seconds later, and 
the sounds that came from my throat were feral.  

"Wow," Mulder breathed, smiling down at me with a 
heavy-lidded gaze.  "You're beautiful when you come, 
you know that?"

I grabbed him and kissed him, my tongue swiping over 
his lips and tasting myself there.  "Shut up and get 
on your back," I commanded with a growl. 

He obeyed, shoving the bear onto the floor and pulling 
me on top of him.  I straddled his hips, took a firm 
hold on him, and lowered myself onto his hard cock.  
We both groaned as he easily slid into me.

He looked up at me with half-closed eyes, biting his 
lip as he watched me move over him.  I held his gaze, 
bracing myself on his chest and clenching the walls of 
my vagina around him.  His eyes closed as he groaned 
my name.

His hands closed around my hips and he moved with me, 
thrusting up to match my rhythm.  I reached behind me 
and scratched my nails along his inner thigh, smiling 
when he gasped raggedly.  My hand snaked up along his 
leg higher and higher, and he looked up at me with a 
loopy smile when I reached his testicles.  

I loved seeing the blush of desire on his face as I 
stroked and rode him; I wanted him to feel so good, to 
remember how we had been before all of this, I just 
wanted him to feel again.

He was close; I could hear it in his panting, see it 
in the way the tendons of his neck stood out with the 
strain.  "Come on," I urged, clenching around him 
again as we moved.  I closed my eyes, loving the way 
he felt inside of me.  He tensed and gasped beneath me 
as he began to come. 

"Kate oh God, Kate!"

The sound of his voice, full of fear and not passion, 
startled me.  
I opened my eyes to see him staring up at me, wide-
eyed.  
Before I could ask him what the matter was, a splash 
of color caught my eye; my gaze dropped to see two 
small dots of red on his chest. They mingled with the 
beads of sweat and turned pink, running in small 
rivulets over his skin.  

As I watched, still puzzled, another red dot appeared, 
then another. Mulder said my name again, his hips 
still thrusting mindlessly, and I felt a tickle 
beneath my nose.  I touched the skin there, wiping it, 
and my fingers were smeared with red when I pulled 
them away.

Mulder gave a final groan as he spilled over inside 
me; his teeth were clenched as his body shuddered.  
"Jesus," he hissed, still staring up at me in horror.

I finally realized my nose was bleeding.

I lifted myself off him and stumbled into the 
bathroom, where I grabbed a handful of tissues and sat 
down on the toilet seat, tilting my head back and 
squeezing the bridge of my nose to try and stop the 
flow.

Mulder came in and knelt before me.  "Let me see," he 
said, his voice tight.

I pulled the red-spotted tissue away from my nose and 
let him look.  "I'm fine. It's just a bloody nose."

"Kate."

"All those books I read, they all said that it's not 
uncommon for pregnant women to get a nosebleed 
sometimes."  I pulled his hands away from my face and 
held them tightly.  

He was trembling, and I pulled him into my arms.  "I'm 
fine," I repeated.

And as long as I kept telling myself that, I would be.  
For now.

XXX

"I have to try, Kate."

I looked at Mulder, trying to understand what he was 
telling me.  
I knew he hadn't slept much last night after our 
lovemaking had taken such a frightening turn; I had 
woken up several times to see him sitting by the 
window, looking out at the rain.  "Come back to bed," 
I'd told him, but after holding me until I fell asleep 
again, I woke up to find him back at the window.

And now he wanted to leave, to see if he could find 
their camp again.  "I stumbled across them the last 
time," he reminded me.  "It could happen again."   

So many things flew into my head, I didn't know how to 
sort them out.  "But how long will you be gone?" I 
asked, for lack of anything better to say.  Visions of 
me giving birth by myself flitted across my brain.

He frowned.  "I have to try," he repeated lamely.  He 
didn't know how long he'd be gone; maybe he'd find 
what he was looking for within the week, maybe he 
wouldn't be back for months.

"What if they come to take the baby before you get 
back?"

His dark eyes flashed.  "That's NOT going to happen."

I almost laughed.  Mulder thought he could control 
everything; he thought he could find every answer and 
prevent every bad thing from happening.  Maybe it was 
because he couldn't stop Scully's death.  Maybe it was 
because he couldn't stop my abduction.  Or maybe he 
felt as helpless as I did - pawns in a game that we 
couldn't control.

He walked from beneath the overhang of the roof and 
stood at the railing, ignoring the drizzle that 
continued to fall.  I followed.

"What if there is no chip, Mulder?"

His chin dropped to his chest.  As I waited for his 
answer, I studied the way the rain fell on his bare 
arms, watching the droplets weave their way over his 
skin.  

"But what if there is?"

The childish answer brought my emotions to the 
surface.  "Then you know what they'll want in exchange 
for it," I snapped.  

He turned to me then, gripping my upper arms. Whether 
it was to calm me or himself down, I didn't know.  "It 
doesn't have to be that way."  His grip relaxed, and 
the pads of his thumbs stroked.  "There's always 
another way."

Tears rose in my throat, as if his soothing caress was 
urging them from my chest to my eyes.  "Maybe I won't 
get sick," I protested, but my voice was as weak as 
the words.  Mulder enfolded me in his arms and held me 
tight.  "I don't want you to go."

"I know," he whispered into my hair.  

We didn't talk about it the rest of the day, but I 
knew he was still thinking about it.  I caught him 
watching me while we ate, while we met with Dr. 
Schultz, while we walked home under my red umbrella.

That night as we laid in bed in the dark, he reached 
out to stroke my side and the baby with a gentle 
touch.  

"I don't want to go through this alone," I whispered.  
His hand moved up to cup my cheek, and he leaned 
forward to kiss me.

"You won't," he said firmly, and I believed him.

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.

XXX

Byers and Frohike couldn't or wouldn't tell me 
anything other than, "He promised he'd be back before 
the baby is due."  

The council knew nothing of Mulder's little trip.  
Moira looked at me with sympathy, but I stalked out 
before she could say something that might make me 
burst into tears.

I hadn't cried yet.  After waking up to find the bed 
cold beside me, 
I'd curled onto my side and willed the tears to come.  
All that had surfaced instead was a litany of curses 
that would have shocked my mother.

He hadn't told me that he wouldn't go, but I thought 
that his "I knows" and "You won'ts" meant the same 
thing.  Apparently I was wrong.  

I felt like I had been ditched.  Mulder was off 
running around looking for a chip that might or might 
not exist, and all I could do was sit here and wait.  
Maybe he'd come back before the baby was born, maybe 
not.  Maybe he wouldn't be coming back at all.

It wasn't entirely unthinkable that it had been too 
much for him, and he had just taken off.  It as also 
possible that he might find what he was looking for, 
only to die at the hands of those controlling the 
game.

Both scenarios left me with no option but to flee to 
Denver on my own, once the baby was born.  I wasn't 
about to sit around and wait for the inevitable like a 
simpering little fool.  Mulder might have every 
intention of returning in time but if he didn't, fuck 
him.  I wouldn't be waiting around for him to make his 
big Mighty Mouse entrance.

I was able to keep the tears inside for nearly a 
month.  I tamped them down with anger, packing them 
into a little ball that I could easily throw away.

But as February drew to a close, my baby began to make 
her presence known more often.  Instead of a little 
twitch now and then, she began to kick and stretch 
during the day and sometimes at night.

It was an amazing feeling, resting my hands over where 
she grew inside me and feeling her move.  I may not 
have given her life, I thought, but she wouldn't be 
alive without me.

I had no one to share this joy with, and that's what 
finally made me cry.  

I lay down on the bed and sobbed for hours.  I wanted 
my mom.

XXX

March brought signs of spring, as well as an aching 
back, aching breasts, and restless nights.

Byers and Frohike helped me move into the house when 
it was ready, and they even offered to stay with me.  
I told them I would be fine, and they looked relieved. 

I would be fine.  I had to be.

At the end of my seventh month, I prepared to leave.

I collected the things I would need - bassinet, 
changing table and crib.  At least I didn't have to 
worry about finding the money to pay for all of this.

While I was shopping, I tried to pretend that I was a 
normal woman having a normal baby in a normal world.  
But it was difficult to fake it while shopping in dark 
and dusty stores, still feeling like a looter even 
after all this time.

When the time came, I knew I would be leaving most of 
it behind, but I needed to continue the pretense so 
everyone would think we would be staying.

"We" became the preferred pronoun by default; it would 
either be me and my baby, or three of us, if and when 
Mulder came back.  No one else knew about the plan, 
not even the Gunmen.  Mulder hadn't wanted to risk 
their safety by giving them knowledge that could be 
used to hurt them.

I wished they were coming with us, even though I knew 
they were uncomfortable around me.  I wasn't sure I 
could do it alone.  I had traveled for endless miles 
by myself before coming across Mulder and the others 
so many months ago, but with a baby?  The thought 
frightened me.

I planned on taking a bicycle, one with a rack in the 
back for our things.  I would hold the baby close, 
strapped to my front in one of those baby carriers 
that were once so popular.  It was the only way I 
could think of traveling.  Walking would take too 
long.

And if I got sick before I reached Denver ... then I 
would just have to deal with that, too.

XXX

It was another rainy evening at the end of March when 
I heard footsteps on the front porch.  Expecting the 
sound to be followed by a knock, telling me that Byers 
or Frohike was here, I was surprised when I only heard 
the shuffling of feet on the dirty wood.

As quickly as I was able, with my round belly making 
me less lithe than I used to be, I went to the bedroom 
nightstand where I kept the gun.  My palms were damp 
as I pulled it from its hiding place.  There was no 
baby for them to take yet, but I wouldn't put it past 
them to cut her out of me and leave me to bleed to 
death on the floor.

My hands shook as I stood in the hallway and waited 
for the door to open.  The houses had locks, but I 
knew if these people wanted in, they would get in.  I 
flicked the safety off, then raised the gun and aimed 
toward the door.

The door opened, and it was a good ten seconds before 
I realized that the man staring at me in wide-eyed 
surprise was Mulder.  "Jesus!" he said, raising his 
hands defensively.  "Kate, it's me!"

I almost shot him anyway.

I didn't know whether to run into his arms or stalk 
away without a word.  I wanted to do both; I wanted to 
yell in anger and cry in relief, but all I could do 
was lower the gun and slump against the wall, shaking 
from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

He approached with a hesitant step, as if he were 
waiting for me to fly into a rage.  Instead, I pushed 
his hands away roughly when he moved to touch me.  
"Come on," he said.  "Come and sit down."  I refused 
his touch again.  "Kate, you're shaking."

"I've been shaking for two months, Mulder!  You ran 
off and ditched me, and I thought I was going to have 
to do this alone.  And right now, as far as I'm 
concerned, I still am."

He didn't have anything to say in response and he let 
me pass by him to go and sit down on the couch.

I lowered myself against the cushions, shoving a throw 
pillow behind my aching lower back.  "So was it worth 
it?" I asked after a long silence.  I opened my eyes 
and saw him sitting across from me in an easy chair.

"No," he answered, looking straight at me.  "I didn't 
find anything.  But ..."

"You had to try," I finished for him, trying for a 
mocking tone but only reaching weariness.  "You know, 
Mulder, whether you wanted to find this chip to save 
me or to make up for not being able to save Scully ."  
I shook my head.  "You're no better than they are."  

His hazel eyes flashed in anger and hurt.  "How can 
you say that?"

"Because you didn't give me the choice.  They've taken 
so much away from me already.  I don't have that much 
left, Mulder.  They want me to just let them take the 
baby and then roll over and die, and I'm not going to 
give them that satisfaction."

He stood up then, and I frowned when I noticed how 
thin he was.  "It doesn't have to be that way, Kate.  
We can have both the baby and your health, I KNOW we 
can!"

My eyes closed again.  I wondered if he had been like 
this with Scully - so headstrong and stubborn, 
refusing to look at the logic.  "So let's say you find 
a chip that can cure the cancer.  In exchange for 
what?  My baby?"  I shook my head vehemently.  "No.  
That's exactly what they want."

"But if you can live and be healthy, it would give you 
the chance to get our baby back."

"Or I could make sure they don't get her in the first 
place," I argued.  Mulder began to pace across the 
darkening room.  "Look, it doesn't matter now!  Even 
if you had found a chip, who's to say I would want it 
in me?"  He stopped and looked at me, opening his 
mouth to argue.  "That's MY choice to make, Mulder. 
Not yours.  And if I know these men at all, I would 
bet any money that the chip would do more than cure 
cancer."  His mouth clamped shut, and I knew I had 
stumbled upon something.  "What did it do to Scully?" 
I asked, my voice softer now.

He went to the window, but then turned to face me.  
"It made her go somewhere ... it "called" her, against 
her will.  She almost died.  Others weren't so lucky."  
He folded his arms across his thin chest.

"I don't want that, Mulder.  They've taken away enough 
of my control already.  I know I can't have it both 
ways - I can have my baby, but not my life."  I took a 
deep breath; that was the first time I had said it out 
loud, and it felt like I was giving myself a death 
sentence.  

Mulder sat beside me and reached for my hand.  I let 
him take it this time.  "Kate," he whispered.  I 
waited for him to say more, but that was it.

I blinked away hot tears and looked down at our 
entwined fingers.  "I don't think there is any chip.  
I think these people ran out of favors with the 
colonists a long time ago."

"If you believe that, then there's only one choice."  
He looked at me, and the rest of my anger dissipated 
when I saw the tears on his cheeks.

"I know."  I raised a hand to stroke his hair, and he 
leaned his head into my palm.  "We should have had 
this conversation before you decided to leave."

He took my hand in his and squeezed my fingers.  
"Yes," he agreed simply.  

There wasn't much more to be said after that.

A silent hour passed with us on the couch before his 
stomach started rumbling, and I realized how late it 
was. 

I watched him finish his meal as the last light leaked 
away.  He looked ridiculously sad - those big eyes of 
his always brimmed over with whatever emotion he was 
feeling - and his swallows looked hard and painful, as 
if he had to force himself to eat.

And then we went to bed, only to fall into silence 
again.  I still didn't know what to do with him; I 
wanted to touch and kiss him, I wanted to cry in 
relief onto his shoulder, I wanted to pummel him with 
my fists.

I felt him shift beside me, and then felt his gaze on 
me in the darkness.  I waited for him to say 
something, anything to break this tension, but he 
didn't, and I got tired of holding my breath for it.

"Would you just say you're sorry and get it over 
with?" I snapped, punching my pillow.

"I love you."

We'd never said that to each other, and it certainly 
wasn't what I had expected him to say now.  My mouth 
snapped open and shut a few times before I was able to 
reply.  "Then why did you leave?" I asked weakly.

He propped himself up on one elbow and covered my hand 
with his own.  "Because I don't want to see you die.  
Because if I have to make a choice, I will choose you 
over a child that was conceived without anybody's 
consent and was never meant to be."

The tears leaked out faster than I could stop them.  I 
wiped ineffectually at them anyway.  "I wasn't sure," 
I said, my voice no more than a trembling whisper, "if 
you stuck around because of me or because this is her 
baby."

He moved closer to me, his hands slipping down to my 
distended belly.  "They underestimated you, Kate.  
You're stronger than they thought you were."  He 
raised my flannel nightshirt and bent to place a kiss 
on the skin he revealed.  "And I love you for that."

"Just for that?" I sniffled.

He lifted his head, and I could see his smile in the 
darkness. "Among other things."

I rolled over into his embrace, but the baby got in 
the way.  After a few shifts and teary chuckles, he 
was curled around my body, his hands reaching around 
to soothe and caress me.  He gently kissed the nape of 
my neck, and I shivered.  "I'm so sorry, Kate.  I 
shouldn't have gone."

We fell back into silence, his apology settling over 
me like a warm blanket.  "Mulder," I said after a 
while.  "I love you, too."  He tightened his arms 
around me and kissed my neck again.  

When I felt myself drifting off into sleep I said, 
"I'm afraid," but he was already asleep.

XXX

As April progressed and spring slowly arrived cool and 
damp, conflicting emotions warred within me.  I 
couldn't wait for the baby to be born so I could stop 
feeling like such a clumsy oaf, waddling around with 
one hand on my sore back.  I couldn't wait until we 
could get out of here and stop all this waiting; I 
just wanted to go.

But at the same time, I didn't want the baby to come.  
As long as the baby was inside me, it seemed, I 
wouldn't get sick.  Mulder didn't want me to die, and 
I certainly didn't want that either.  I still held 
onto hope, however.  Maybe I would be the exception - 
I was the one they had impregnated, maybe it would be 
different with me.  Maybe I wouldn't get sick.  I 
would gladly accept a life of looking over my shoulder 
if it meant I would get to have a long life with my 
child.

The nights were still often sleepless for me as I 
contended with aching body parts and kicking babies.  
At least now Mulder was there to rub my back and bring 
me water when I was hot and thirsty.  It was nice to 
fall asleep after a massage, Mulder's warm body 
against mine, his arm draped around my belly.

On nights like those, I let myself pretend that it 
would be like this forever.  I tried to pretend that 
word hadn't been coming in that the sick abductees 
were dying.

XXX

I went into labor on the second Tuesday in May.  I was 
outside hanging clothes to dry in the fresh spring 
air, when I doubled over in pain.  I'd had the false 
contractions off and on during the past month or so, 
but somehow I knew this was it.

A wave of panic washed over me.  Jesus, I wasn't ready 
for this!  I wasn't ready to raise a child, wasn't 
ready to fight for my baby, wasn't ready for the pain 
I knew was coming.

"Mulder!" I yelled, still clutching at my belly.  What 
do I do what do I do what do I do?  

He appeared at the door.  "What's wrong?"  He must 
have seen the fear in my eyes, for he ran over to me 
and pulled me into his arms.  "Kate, Kate," he 
murmured, cupping my face in his hands.  "It's all 
right."

He tried to soothe me with hands and voice, but I 
could see the same panic rising in his own dark eyes.  
I straightened up carefully, the contraction over.  
"You should go tell Dr. Schultz," 

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"I'll be fine," I told him, squeezing his hand and 
trying not to notice that we were both trembling.  
Still he hesitated.  "Go."

He dropped a quick kiss on my lips.  "I'll be right 
back."

"And I'll be fine," I repeated.  It didn't make me 
feel any better, and Mulder didn't look convinced, 
either.

XXX

I had always imagined childbirth would be extremely 
painful and draining.  I had no idea it would be like 
this.  Ten hours and counting, and I was ready to give 
up.  All I wanted to do was sleep, to lie down and 
close my eyes, and let the darkness overtake me.

A cool washcloth on my forehead provided a brief spot 
of relief, and I inhaled deeply as the contraction 
faded.  "Try and relax," Mulder whispered, pushing the 
sweat-soaked hair from my face.

I leaned back against him, and he rubbed my arms 
gently.  "Can I push yet?" I barely recognized the 
strained, trembling voice that came out of my mouth.

"Soon, baby."  Moira smiled at me from her position 
next to Dr. Schultz at the foot of the bed.

"Baby," I mumbled.  "Why is she calling me baby?"  
Mulder chuckled and handed me a cup of water.  

It was so hot in the room; as soon as the sun had 
begun to go down, they filled the room with the 
kerosene lamps, so many that Mulder had told Dr. 
Schultz to get rid of some of them.  "I need to be 
able to see!" he protested, but Mulder had replied by 
telling him that all he needed to see was a head 
coming out, and that would be hard to miss.

I was glad for less light; the brightness had hurt my 
eyes and made me so hot.  "Mulder."

"What is it?" he asked, bending his head down and 
sliding his hands between us to rub my lower back 
gently.  

"What if there's something wrong with my baby?  What 
if ... what if what they did ..."

"Ssh, Kate.  Don't think like that.  The baby is fine.  
She's going to be fine.  And so are you."

"But ... "  I didn't get to voice the rest of my 
concerns.  The next contraction hit and I reared 
forward, crying out in agony.  It burned and ached, my 
legs trembled uncontrollably, and I struggled not to 
push.

"Breathe, Kate," Moira urged.  "Come on, do it with 
me."

But it was hard to keep the rhythm of the panting 
going with all the pain.  I began to cry, sobbing 
between breaths.  Mulder winced behind me, but I 
didn't loosen the vise-like grip I had on his thighs.

"I want to push!" I screamed, trying to find the 
strength to dig my heels into the mattress.

"Just a little longer," Mulder whispered into my ear.  
"You're doing so well, Kate, just hang in there a 
little longer."  He stroked my hair, but I yanked my 
head away from his touch.

The pain subsided and I collapsed back against Mulder.  
"I can't," I wept, turning my head and resting my face 
against the hot skin of his neck.  "I can't do this, 
it hurts so bad, I just want it to be over."

He put his arms around me and held me as best he 
could, whispering things that barely registered in my 
brain.  I couldn't relax, I couldn't get a decent 
breath, I was cold, I was hot and I couldn't stop 
shaking.

"Soon, Kate," Dr. Schultz promised.  "Not much longer 
now."

Mulder kissed my forehead.  "Almost there."

When the next contraction hit, I cried out again, and 
almost missed Dr. Schultz's command: "Now, Kate!  Go 
ahead and push."

I pushed as hard as I could, groaning with the 
pressure.  It felt like my head would explode, but I 
pushed and pushed until I heard Moira say, "Kate, the 
baby's head is crowning!"

My tired muscles wouldn't let me smile, but I tried.  
I looked down, but all I saw were my pale thighs and 
the bloody towels beneath them.

Dr. Schultz picked up a clean towel and mopped his 
face with it.  "Okay," he said tiredly.  "Next contraction, 
push as hard as you can."

I glared at him.  "What do you think I'm DOING?!"

And then the next contraction hit, and I pushed, and I 
screamed and yelled, Mulder's hands on my back as I 
pushed and hollered.  I felt like I could push hard 
enough to shove the pain into the next room, where I 
wouldn't have to deal with it.  

"PUSH!" Dr. Schultz yelled, and I wanted to punch him; 
like there was anything else I would be doing right 
now.

Mulder was encouraging me in a voice that was almost 
soothing, and I gripped his hands hard enough to make 
him hiss, "Ow!" behind me.

Just as I was ready to collapse against Mulder and 
give up on this attempt, Dr. Schultz announced, "Keep 
pushing keep pushing, Kate, keep pushing!"

"I can't!" I wailed, but did anyway, feeling like I 
was delivering all of my internal organs along with 
the baby.

But then there was a feeling of emptiness between my 
legs, and Moira cried, "It's a girl!"

I wanted to see her, I wanted to see my daughter, but 
all I could do was fall back against Mulder's chest 
and weep with relief.  The pain was gone, but I was so 
tired, so exhausted I could barely move.  I could feel 
my legs trembling, and I heard Mulder saying something 
to me, but none of it registered.

I had a baby, I had a daughter, a little girl, but why 
wasn't she crying?  Why didn't I hear her crying like 
all the babies I used to see born on TV, the newborns 
that my mother the OB nurse would criticize, saying, 
"Oh, that's not a newborn baby," why wasn't she 
crying?

Mulder was laughing.  I could hear the loose sounds 
coming from him somewhere above me, even as he stroked 
my hair and my face.

And then there was a weight on my stomach, and I heard 
a small sound, like a faint sound in the middle of the 
night, and I realized that my daughter was in my arms, 
and she was crying.

I looked down, and her pink face was contorted, the 
most awful sounds coming from her tiny mouth.  Her 
head was pointed, her skin was stained with blood and 
fluids, and she was beautiful.  "Oh," I breathed.  
"Look."

Mulder's whole hand was bigger than her head; he 
touched her with trembling fingers.  "You did it, 
Kate," he whispered.  "Look at her, she's beautiful."

Ten fingers and ten toes with tiny perfect nails.  A 
lusty cry from that round mouth.  A spattering of dark 
hair on top of her pointy little head.  She hadn't 
opened her eyes yet; she was too busy protesting this 
new, cold world.

I had a daughter.  A daughter who, before latching 
onto my breast with her hungry mouth, looked up at me 
with the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen.  Mulder 
gasped when he saw, and I smiled.  "Beautiful eyes," I 
praised, wiping her off gently with a clean towel.

"Beautiful," he agreed, his voice no more than a 
whisper.

Moira knelt beside us.  "Congratulations," she said, 
tears in her eyes.  "What's her name?"

I smiled again.  "Anna."  And then I drifted off into 
exhaustion, my daughter tugging sharply at my breast.

XXX

When I woke up, the sun was streaming in through the 
bedroom window and my whole body ached.  My throat was 
parched, my stomach was empty, and I had to go to the 
bathroom.  

Turning my head on the pillow, I saw Mulder in the 
rocking chair by the window, our daughter in his arms.  
I smiled and opened my mouth to say something, but 
then I saw the tears on his cheeks.

I wasn't surprised at the sharp wave of bitterness 
that welled up inside me as I watched him touch the 
face of the child that should have been his and 
Scully's.

Never meant to be.

Mulder's words echoed in my head as I swallowed my own 
tears.  Never meant to be, perhaps, but here all the 
same, and I wanted her.  "Look at you," I said, my 
voice strangely squeaky.  "Daddy's little girl 
already."

He raised his head in surprise and smiled.  
Immediately, he got up and brought Anna over to me.  
"You're awake," he said needlessly, wiping his cheeks 
with his free hand while I struggled to sit up.

"How long have I been asleep?"

He placed Anna gently in my arms, and it felt so 
right, having her there.  She yawned, her mouth 
contorting into a grimace.  I stroked her tiny hand, 
and she grabbed onto my index finger with surprising 
strength.

"About five hours."  I moved over to make room for 
Mulder on the bed.  "You didn't even budge when we 
cleaned up and changed the sheets under you."  He 
chuckled.  "You even snored."

"Oh, I did not."  I pressed my lips to her head, 
marveling at the warmth of her skin and the wonderful 
way she smelled.

Mulder brushed the hair from my face and leaned down 
to kiss me gently.  "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry.  So tired.  Relieved."  I took the 
opportunity to count her fingers again.  "Is she 
healthy?"

"As far as we can tell.  Dr. Schultz will be back 
later to check on you."  He kissed me again.  "I'm so 
proud of you."  I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled.  
"Well, you did great."

"Yeah," I said, my eyelids becoming heavy again.  
"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

I fell back asleep with Mulder's soft chuckle in my 
ear.

XXX

I wanted to leave right away.  Anna was here - she was 
mine, she was healthy, and I was ready to go.  But it 
was difficult when the spirit was willing and the body 
was weak.  I had to use common sense; we would be 
traveling by bicycle or by foot.  We had to wait until 
I was up for the journey.

Mulder was eager to leave as well; I saw it in the way 
he fussed with our bags, checking to make sure 
everything was packed well, and in the way he watched 
me with Anna.  It looked like he was studying me, 
measuring my strength and energy.

Byers and Frohike came to see us often during the week 
after Anna was born.  They gave each other knowing looks 
when she opened her blue, blue eyes and looked up at 
them.  Mulder never said it, but I had seen his one 
picture of Scully enough to know that Anna had her 
mother's eyes.  He'd told me once that my eyes were 
like Scully's, but I knew who he saw when he looked at 
Anna.

It didn't matter.  She was beautiful and she was mine, 
no matter who she looked like.  She was a quiet baby, 
content to lie in our arms and sleep, or watch us with 
her clear eyes.

I would watch her for hours, wondering how such a tiny 
creature could be so important to the fate of the 
world.  What made her so special?  Was it something in 
her genes?  Something buried deep in her mind?  A code 
hidden within her DNA that held answers I couldn't 
even begin to ask?

Mulder was wrong; Anna was meant to be, but I wasn't 
going to let her serve that purpose.

XXX

It was a sunny Saturday when I heard footsteps on the 
porch.  I wasn't expecting Dr. Schultz or anybody, and 
Mulder wasn't due back from the Gunmen's until dinner.  
But instead of the knock I was expecting, I heard the 
door open.

Fear grabbed at me, and I ran into the bedroom and 
took the gun from its hiding place, tucking it into 
the loose pocket of my skirt.  I returned to Anna's 
side and waited.  My palms grew damp as I listened to 
the footsteps move through the house.

Then all I could hear were the sounds of my own shaky 
breaths and the soft snuffling of Anna's as she slept.  
I glanced down at her to steel myself for what might 
happen.  Before I turned back, a hint of cigarette 
smoke pricked at my nose.

A man stood in the doorway to the room, looking at me 
with curiosity and a hint of satisfaction.  He was 
tall and old, with a thin, lined face and small, cold 
eyes.

I hadn't had any more memories of my abductions, but 
as I looked back at him, I knew I'd seen him before.  

"Hello, Kate," he said, and I was very aware of the 
weight of the gun in my pocket.

"Who are you?" I said, my voice cold and cautious.  

He smiled a thin smile.  "I'm surprised to see that 
Fox isn't at home with you.  Where is he?"  I didn't 
answer, and he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the 
pocket of his dark trench coat.

"You're not going to smoke in front of my baby."

He gave me a look of false surprise.  "YOUR baby, 
Kate?  I was under the impression that one of my men 
grew a conscience and made his last confession to 
you."  I didn't reply, only raised my chin and stared 
at him with defiance.  He merely shrugged and put the 
cigarettes back.

"I know you're here for my baby."  He looked genuinely 
surprised at that, and I tamped down a smile of smug 
satisfaction.  "But you're not going to take her."

His smile returned.  "Really?"  He took a step 
forward, and I forced myself not to take a step back.

"Really."

"Not even if I have something you want?  Something you 
need?"

I gritted my teeth and locked my knees to keep them 
from trembling.  "You have nothing I need," I spat.

"I find that hard to believe, considering you're ill."  
He paused, apparently waiting for me to respond with 
the appropriate shock and confusion.  I kept my face a 
stony mask, and he frowned.  "Then you must know that 
this illness has only one possible end.  And one sure 
cure."

"I'm not making any deals, and I'm not giving you 
anything."

A brief flash of what looked like admiration crossed 
his face.  "Not many people would walk away from a 
chance to live a long and healthy life, Kate."

"And not many new mothers would eagerly give up their 
child."  He stared at me, as if sizing me up.  "Go 
into the kitchen.  I don't want to wake her up," I 
said, like we were two friends just chatting about the 
new baby.

I was hoping he would do as I instructed, and he did.  
After reassuring myself with a quick glance at Anna, I 
followed him out of the room, reaching into my pocket 
and disengaging the safety on the gun as I walked.

I was amazed at how strong I felt.  After months and 
months of being angry and afraid, I was finally facing 
my fear, confronting the man who had done this to me.  
Maybe holding Anna in my arms and loving her had given 
me enough strength to face him.

He sat down in a chair at the table, I leaned against 
the counter across the room, resting my hand on my 
leg, close to the gun.  "Now," I said, my voice 
steady.  "You tell me why I should listen to one 
goddamn thing you say."

"You give me what I want, and I give you what you 
need, Kate.  It's not complicated."  He again pulled 
out the cigarettes and lit one, but I didn't stop him 
this time.

"What I might need and what I want are two different 
things."

"You don't want the chance to live?"

"I'd rather die than let you take my daughter."

He leaned back in the chair, inhaling deeply on his 
cigarette.  The smoke swirled above his head in thin 
wisps as he exhaled.  "Be careful what you wish for," 
he replied, making no effort to mask the threat.  He 
paused to let his words sink in, then appraised me 
coolly.  "You know, I think perhaps I underestimated 
you, Kate."

I pulled the gun from my pocket.  "Yes, I think you 
did."  I fired once, the force of the recoil causing 
my head to slam back against the cupboard door.  

The bullet had hit his shoulder, and he looked at me 
in horrified surprise as he fell onto the floor.  The 
anger I had been holding back spilled over, and I 
walked over to where he lay, panting with anger.

He stared up at me with what looked like fear as I 
stood over him.  "Fuck you," I spit out, and fired 
another round into his heart.

I must have stared down at his motionless body for a 
good ten minutes before I snapped out of my shock.  
The sound of Anna's cries began to reach through the 
ringing in my ears, and I dropped the gun onto the 
man's bleeding body and ran from the room.

I picked up my daughter and clutched her to me, not 
even trying to calm her with soothing whispers and 
coos.  My legs began to tremble, and I sank to the 
floor.  I didn't cry, even when I felt the now 
familiar tickle beneath my nose, even when the first 
bright drop of blood fell onto my daughter's flawless 
skin.

XXX

The sound of Mulder screaming my name still echoed in 
my ears as we drove away that night in the old man's 
car.  Mulder had come home, saw the body in the 
kitchen, and screamed for me.  He found me in the 
bedroom, still huddled on the floor with Anna in my 
arms. 

The Gunmen had found the car a few miles away; he must 
have left it to avoid attracting unwanted attention as 
the foreign sound and sight moved through the long 
empty streets.  Byers and Frohike checked it for bugs 
or tracking devices, but found none.  So now the black 
Lincoln was packed full, and Anna was safely nestled 
in a car seat.

Our travel plans had changed with the acquisition of 
the dead man's car, but we still had to use caution.  
We would rest during the day and drive at night, using 
smaller state highways and less obvious routes, just 
in case someone was on the lookout for us.

With any luck, we had a few days' head start; Mulder 
reasoned they would be expecting the old man to return 
within a couple of days, so they wouldn't suspect 
anything right away.  But still, we were careful.

We broke into a motel room somewhere in Montana the 
next afternoon.  I lay down to rest while Mulder 
pulled a chair up to the window.  He watched the still 
world through a crack in the heavy drapes, Anna 
sleeping soundly in his lap.

A sound woke me up sometime later, and as I struggled 
out of sleep I realized Mulder was singing.  Dust 
particles floated in the lone beam that had snuck in 
through the drapes, and the golden light fell on the 
couple in the chair.  Anna grasped at his long fingers 
as he smiled down at her.

"You like that?" he whispered.  "I've got more, I can 
keep going."  He bent down to kiss her head.  

"Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies
And walked off to look for America.

"Kathy, I'm lost I said, though I knew she was 
sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all come to look for America."

I smiled.  "You left out about half the words."

He looked up and smiled.  "It's been a long time since 
my sensitive Paul Simon stage."  He picked up Anna and 
brought her to me.  "Here," he whispered as I settled 
her down beside me, pressing my nose to her head and 
inhaling her sweet scent.  "Keep Mom company for a 
while."  

I watched him return to the chair by the window.  
"Mulder," I said.  He turned to look at me.  "You need 
some rest, too."

"No," he said, shaking his head.  "I'll be all right."

I knew he didn't want to let his guard down.  I didn't 
know if he would ever forgive himself for failing 
Scully in that regard, no matter how many times he 
tried to make up for it with me, and now with Anna.

I closed my eyes and eventually drifted back into 
sleep, waking only when Mulder joined us on the bed, 
wrapping his arm around me and resting a hand near his 
daughter's head.

Tomorrow we would once again find a new home and face 
our future.

XXX

EPILOGUE

Summer passed and autumn began.  It had been two years 
since the invasion had begun and ended so abruptly.  
Mulder and I still looked over our shoulders, 
expecting to find someone ready to take Anna away from 
us, but so far it seemed we had slipped under their 
radar.

We had foiled some of their plans, but not all.  The 
nosebleeds began coming more frequently shortly after 
our arrival in Denver.  We tried to blame them on the 
thin air of the high altitude, but when I started 
losing weight, we couldn't look the other way any 
longer.

When the leaves turned and the cold wind blew down 
from the mountains, I knew I wouldn't make it through 
the winter.

I wondered what might have been, had there been a cure 
and had I accepted it.  I might have been healthy 
then, might have been able to look forward to spring.  

But I wouldn't have my daughter.  And as I stood in 
the doorway and watched Mulder playing with her, I 
realized I wouldn't have given that up for anything.

Because I had won.

END

Author's Notes:  This story would not have been 
written if not for syntax and Alanna.  They helped me 
figure out plot holes, told me when a character 
screamed "Plot Device!" and talked me down when I'd 
had too much Dr. Pepper.

Beta by Alanna, CazQ, Jamie, Marasmus and syntax six.  
Thanks also to Cofax, M. Sebasky, Mish, Maria Nicole 
and Terma, for support, cheers and much appreciated 
critical feedback.  Everybody in chat, who helped me 
procrastinate - thank you.   Finally, a little evil 
thanks to Narida Law.  Because she refused to read 
anything regarding a Mulder/Other story, I made her 
promise to help me with the next story.  I have her to 
thank for wanting to hurry the heck up.  ;)

And I really miss Scully.

Feedback to spartcus1@msn.com

Thanks for reading!

Alicia