Category: case file, MSR, RST, and some angst.
Rating: R +
Summary with part 1
 

I started my own investigations as soon as Mulder left.  I had let him
believe nothing useful had come of the meeting with General Sewell.
Somehow I could stand to betray the man, but I could not stand not
knowing the reasons.  It was an infuriating glitch in my personality.
I so longed to go into a state of proper denial, and instead was
investigating the very thing I needed to pretend did not exist.
Fortunately the investigation was intriguing.

Jeff White was the inventor of a radio wave antenna which purportedly
allowed radio waves to travel faster than the speed of light.  The
patent he had filed read like a sci-fi fantasy, without the half naked
women.  The work Dr. White was doing in the less pragmatic arenas of
holes in the space-time continuum was more interesting and
extraordinarily, more feasible to someone who had revisited Einstein
all those years ago.  After hours of delving into the penetration of an
apparent new dimension I was a little out of my depth, and Imogen was
furious with my lack of attention.  Gabe was sleeping, which
fortunately obscured the reproach lurking in his one good eye.  I
scanned the patent office e-files with glazed eyes.  And something
stuck out.

Several weeks after Jeff White had allegedly been killed, Jeff White
signed the inventor's declaration.

I checked my dates and examined the signatures.  If it was forgery, it
was remarkably good.  If Jeff White were alive…

Finally we had something that deserved investigation, and I couldn't
share it with Mulder.

***

\\ I speak of distance
The space between houses
The way a moment separates into intimate particles.\\
A week later…

Conversations with Scully had been dissatisfyingly crisp ever since we
had fumbled our way into and, presumably, back out of a sexual
relationship.  Regardless, I continued to call her, this time while I
showed off my parallel parking skills on the street near my apartment.

"Scully."

"It's me.  How are you?"  I gathered my briefcase and files and began
to walk the half a block to my front door.

"We're fine, Mulder."  There was an almost imperceptible pause.  "You?"

"No news I'm afraid."  Every lead I'd followed in the past week had
withered to nothing.  Since it appeared Scully was taking little
interest in the case I felt the responsibility heavily.

"OK."  I nearly hung up on her lack of concern.  Surely she could
scrape up some passion about her brother's death, even if she could no
longer scrape up any feeling for me.

"Scully…"  My protest sounded like an entreaty and I didn't like that.

"We're fine Mulder.  I need to go.  I have to…"  Her voice faded out
without explanation.  "I'll see you soon?"

The question surprised me – I wasn't expecting to see her anytime in
the near future.  Not that I didn't hunger to.  "Sure…" I started, but
she had disconnected.  I dropped my phone into my pocket as I entered
my building.

I rarely had need to check the mailbox in my hallway.  Everyone I knew
had stopped writing to me long before snail mail's gifted baby sister
was born on the Internet.  Of course this didn't stop corporations from
addressing me as a long lost friend.  Sometime during the day the
hinged door to my mailbox had swung unlocked and I was forced to grab a
handful of computer generated missives as I passed.  They landed on the
coffee table along with the files.

I headed for the kitchen to peruse the contents of my refrigerator,
then turned back.  Something had sidled into my consciousness.

At the top of the pile was an envelope addressed in Scully's tidy
script.  Mr. F.W. Mulder…

If anyone had been watching I might have aimed for nonchalance.  Nobody
was.  I pounced on the letter.

M,
I need to meet with you.  Rosslyn Metro, upper platform, 10:30pm,
Thursday 17th.
-S.

Tonight.

Despite the spy novel melodrama, hope sputtered in me.  Perhaps
Scully's remoteness was forced by the shadow people who constantly
interfered with our lives.  Not a happy circumstance per se, but at
least it meant that pinched coolness might not be Scully's natural
response to the new state of our relationship.

I began creating a subtle escape plan, starting by calling Dom and
arranging a meeting in a restaurant that was accessible by Metro.  Then
I turned to the creation of a more subtle plan to mend my relationship
with Scully.

Tonight.

***

Tonight.

Please let him have received it.  Please.  I closed my eyes for a
fraction.

I had thought the decision to betray Mulder had been the only one I
could make.  But every time I woke up I knew for one certain moment
that the cost was too much.  Not losing Mulder, although every cell
ached in his absence and begged for his return.  Rather that I would
ultimately have nothing to give the baby I'd chosen to save, or anyone
else.  At least nothing that would last.  Which meant it was all
worthless.

Because the truth is that you can give up your direction and your
assurance and you can give up your reasons for faith in yourself, but
you will find that the loss of those things takes every heartbeat
hostage from that time on.  And there is nothing finite that is worth
giving up the eternal.  I could fight for Imogen, and I might win, but
if I did it this way it would be with irreparable loss.

"You OK, Dane?"

I blinked and nodded, then looked across the room at Gabe.  He was
stretched out on the floor with the remote for the stereo in one hand,
and the cover from a 1970 Flying Burrito Brothers album in the other.
Not my taste, but at least he was sharing rooms with me now.

"I'm gonna need to be out for a few hours tonight."  I had previously
made use of all my tidy freak skills in examining the place for bugs.
I figured that while my phones were tapped, while my e-mail was being
read, while my house was certainly being watched, they probably weren't
listening in on us.  In any case, if they were I was screwed anyway,
and I had to let Gabe know I'd be gone.

He eyed me thoughtfully.  "Wha…"

I shook my head warningly.  I could still afford to be somewhat
reticent.  "Trust me, Gabe.  Please?"

He turned back to his album.  "Sure."

I wasn't really sure what the subtext was, but I decided to overlook it.

***

\\To kill love
So as not to commit suicide
That is self-defense.
The pistol leveled at you
Takes aim at my heart
With hot sin and cold punishment \\

The station was more crowded than one would expect so long after dark,
but I sensed Scully before she approached.  She stopped a few feet
away, too far for us to touch.

"Hey."  She had arranged this meeting but I was the first to speak.
She let her mouth smile a little but the eyes that fixed mine were out
of place.  She looked sad and determined, like she'd already spoken a
final farewell.  I opened my mouth to deflect that look but she held up
a hand.

"Mulder.  I need to tell you something." Her voice was low and clear.
She took a resigned breath and laid her hand against the pylon beside
her to balance herself.  "I… I…"  If she had rehearsed a speech it was
already forgotten.  I was fairly positive I did not want to hear this
from her, but I would.  "Mulder, I have information about the man who
killed Charlie… and all the others.  I've had… I lied to you Mulder."

I froze.

"I learned some of this from General Sewell.  But I… I know you can't
understand but I felt I had to do this, Mulder.  They threatened
Imogen.  They threatened to tell the killer about her."  She shuddered
and stepped away from me fractionally.  I knew my face displayed the
horror in my mind.

"Mulder, please understand."  And she saw that I could not.

She drew an envelope from her bag.  "Here's the information I've
gathered.  I'm so sorry."  So sorry, Mulder, blue eyes echoed.  But I
couldn't accept it.  Because years ago I had shown this woman exactly
how to hurt me.  I had given her a fucking diagram.  And she couldn't
return it to me.  She couldn't ever return it.

She left.  I could hear her parting thoughts in my head.  Fortunately
she didn't turn around.  Because it was a desperate man she left
behind.  I watched myself from a distance as my head bent and I kissed
every spot her fingertips had rested on that envelope.  And I placed my
hand where hers had rested on the concrete pylon, then lifted that hand
to breathe her into my veins.  My blood reveled in the thrill of
touching her.  However indirectly.

***

Mulder had sent us an FBI watchdog the moment I had left him, give or
take several seconds.  They came and went systematically, and every
time I saw a new one outside I smiled my way through the disappointment
that Mulder had not come himself.

After three weeks of watching the shadows, the tension in me was
leaking through the house.  In spite of his own (alleged though never
demonstrated) fear, Gabe was patient with me, but Imogen was nine
months old and hadn't learnt that the world didn't revolve around her.
Or maybe it did, because all of this was about her.  She stayed in my
room, and I slept with my gun.  We left the house rarely, and only in
the careful view of the FBI.

Then with the rhythm of a highly stylized drama, my cell phone sprang
to life again.

"Scully."

"It's Mulder.  Jeff White is somewhere in the D.C. area."  Even
Mulder's voice was drained of color.  I wished in vain that he would
slip and let that fathomless regard swell in his tone as it used to.

"Somewhere?" I headed into the living room where Gabe and Imogen were
entertaining themselves.  Looking in, I met Gabe's eyes across the
room.  I didn't want to tell him too much right now so I turned away.

"He was spotted driving into town but my guy lost him.  He was headed
south, Scully"

The adrenaline was already throbbing in my arteries.  We had faced
worse.  But I was no longer sure if there was a 'we' to face this.  I
swallowed my pride.

"Wi... will you come here?"  It sounded worse than I'd expected so I
couldn't repeat the question although he said nothing.  "Please Mulder."

There was a momentary break in his breathing and in the silence I knew
he was on the freeway.

"I'm already on my way."  He disconnected before I said my thanks, but
I was fairly certain he heard them regardless.  I was much less certain
that he wanted to hear them.

***

Gabe forced me to meet his eyes as I returned to the living room.

"Who was that?"

"Mulder.  There's a suggestion that Jeff White may be coming here.  He
might just be in town coincidentally..."  I was grasping at nothing.

"But you don't believe that."

"No.  Don't worry, we'll be fine.  Mulder's on his way here - and our
faithful watchdog is..."  I looked out the window into the night.  The
bureau vehicle was empty.

I reached behind me for my SIG and checked the chamber, although I knew
there was a round there.  Gabe's eyes fixed on me, metallically as I
spoke.  "Take Imogen and hide."  I switched out the light.

"I'll get my gun," he said, dully, and tucked Imogen under his arm.
Even in the dark he sensed my look.  "I have a history too, Dana."  I
nodded and followed him into his bedroom, where he'd stashed a gun
amongst his socks.  I didn't address the fact that he'd obviously been
taking care of it.

The bathroom off his room only had one entrance so he took Imogen in
there.  As soon as the lock snicked into place I was in the hall and on
the offensive.  Hiding wouldn't work forever and I didn't know how
close Mulder was.

In the hallway the darkness was shrill with unreleased tension.  Every
blink of my eyes seemed to thud loudly.  I padded toward the living
room in stockinged feet, keeping my breathing even and quiet. I heard
the slightest brush of fabric against fabric.  Someone was here.

***

I pulled up under a streetlight and somehow managed to restrict my pace
to a sprint as I headed for Scully's front door.  Time was I would have
known absolutely whether or not she was safe, but I was terrified that
my sense of these things had been irrevocably damaged some time earlier.

Something was still in working order, though.  That something stopped
me before I hammered mindlessly on the door or shouted Scully's name in
cliched Brando-esque tones.  I was suddenly confident that there was
someone in there with her and her little family unit.  Perhaps it just
took proximity, because I swore I could hear Scully speaking.

<Quietly now... step... step... we're clear... breathe...  Imogen...
Gabe... bathroom... don't cry, possum... OK... turn back... step...
step... silence...don't breathe... there... he's in the living room...>

I edged the key she'd given me (a tradition, not a need, until now)
into the lock and slid the door open noiselessly.

<Mulder...>

<Scullyscullyscully...>

I headed for the living room, half-knowing she was poised at the
opposite end of the room.  My eyes twitched as they adjusted to the
absence of streetlights indoors.  For an instant I saw her in the
doorway, and I had the feeling our eyes locked briefly as we rebuilt
this aspect of our partnership.

The figure that moved between us was man-sized and shaped.  I didn't
like pointing my gun at him, knowing Scully was next in the receiving
line.

"FBI.  Drop your weapon."  Her voice didn't shake.  If I didn't know
her like I knew the inside of my skull, I would have thought this
merely a training exercise.

The man, presumably Jeff White, although it was hard to tell in the
dark, spoke then.  His first sentence was unintelligible to me but he
translated helpfully.  "I’m not here for you, but for the other one.
You may leave."

Not likely.

***

Mulder stepped sidelong into the room.  Jeff White half turned from him
and came for me.  In two paces he was half way across the room.  I
pulled hard on the trigger and there was a roar of noise.  Around the
flash of light I saw Jeff White’s body twist sideways under the impact
and keep coming.  Presumably his shoulder was in agonizing ruins but he
made no particular sound.  I shot again, aiming at his legs.  Mulder
aimed and fired at the same time.  There was a moment of stillness and
then Jeff White fell at my feet.

In a moment of swift good sense Mulder switched on the light and
reached for his phone.  Jeff White’s legs were twitching and spilling
blood on the living room floor.  His shoulder was a mess.  He still
made no noise.  As I knelt beside him I saw the look in his eyes.  Pale
hatred was simply heightened by resentment, even irritation.  He seemed
to feel no fear and no pain.

I put pressure in all the right places and kept the man alive until the
ambulance arrived.  Mulder left with him.

And so, suddenly and unexpectedly, it was over.  Most of my body was
enormously relieved.  Parts of it wanted to curl up in an exhausted
ball and never unroll.  A tiny fragment despaired that there would no
longer be any need for Mulder to think of me.

I quashed that tiny part and went to free Gabe and Imogen from the
bathroom.  It looked like Imogen was having a little baby party in the
bathtub.  On the other hand, Gabe was pale and brittle.  I found him
the smile I had filed for such occasions and presented it gingerly.  He
smiled back.  At this point Imogen demonstrated her own strange idea of
perfect timing and began to holler.

***

It was infuriating that I still thought of Scully, even now it was
over.  Over the last three weeks I had read the reports of the agents
assigned surveillance at her place and my imagination had accurately
supplied the details of her purple stained eyes and newly sharp edges.
Now, as Jeff White's story slowly came out, I could picture her
relief.  And I stored a running commentary in my head and addressed it
to her.

Disappointingly, it appeared Jeff White was not possessed by a
vengeance spirit, or the revenant of a deceived teenager.  Instead he
just added new meaning to the words 'mad scientist'.

Four years earlier, while studying at MIT, he had met Emi Hayashi.
Three years younger than he, Emi was the only daughter of Tomoko
Hayashi.  Tomoko's younger brother, had, as a boy, and in light of
somewhat exaggerated information from a group of American soldiers,
assassinated Inajiro Asanuma before killing himself.

Vengeance had been instilled in Emi, the niece of tragedy, before she
was born.  She determinedly sought out Jeff White, allegedly the most
intelligent and least balanced of the second generation of Americans.
Jeff proved to be both.  Emi was beautiful and mad and well trained by
her mother and grandfather.  In three weeks Jeff was in thrall.  In two
months he would have died for her.  After three and a half months of
blissful insanity she had committed hara-kiri in his bedroom and, as
her blood spilled on his bedspread, she asked him to kill for her.

He kept the bedspread.  And he discovered that killing begets killing.
It was unfortunate for the U.S. government that he didn't finish his
research into space and time before he decided he preferred murder to
physics.  I imagine they figured once he was done with the killing he
could get back to building a time machine or space ship or whatever
they were hoping for.  As long as he didn't get caught.

The disconcerting thing was that now it seemed to be over.  And
miraculously Scully and her niece were safe.  Of course, too many
people had died for me to gloat, but I was tempted.

I compiled all this information internally, and sent someone else to
visit Scully.

***

\\I fix you in time, on a mantel
and turn my eyes.
I forget to see the sun
set inside you.\\

So my part of the world went on, much as it had previously.  For nearly
two months it went on.  I spent long hours caring for patients, looking
after Imogen, trying to find a hobby that didn't bore me senseless
within a week.  And I became steadily more and more restless.  Gabe
noticed, and quietly made changes in his life so I could work more,
while he took on more of the baby care.  But my restlessness didn't
cease.

It's not as though I'm scared to have a smaller life than the one I was
used to.  I hoped.

I have to admit I half expected Mulder to turn up in an appropriate
blaze of blue light to throw my life back into flux.  Even though I
knew he wouldn't.

I mourned the loss of this peculiar hope.

As is frequently the case, change came from another, altogether
unexpected direction.  It also came slowly, without blazing lights of
any color.

On a crisp Saturday afternoon Gabe spoke up from behind a computer
magazine.  "Dane, I was wondering, I've been seeing this girl and I
wondered if you'd mind if I brought her here.  Y'know to meet Imo, and
you."

"Sure."  I nearly laughed, and he caught the amusement in my expression.

So she ate with us that night.  And the next night.  And the next.

Juliana Peri was tiny with a wide boyish smile.  Wonderfully, under her
ministrations the plants I had pronounced dead months earlier were
raising their heads.  She cooked with more enthusiasm than experience.
She messed up the house as much as Imogen did then tidied in an
overwhelming flurry of activity.  She was thrilled with everything
either Gabe or Imogen did.

Frankly, Imogen wasn't tremendously impressed with Juliana at first,
but she soon calculated the value of having a third adult to pay her
attentions and started throwing things at her with as much enthusiasm
as she threw them at Gab or Day.  (I had tried to teach her to call us
mom and dad or some other more usual title but it was too awkward for
all of us.)

Juliana was called Lanie, or close enough to Lanie to make Gabe
flinch.

Within five or six weeks I began to realize that Juliana was pregnant.

My first thought was a question.  What are we going to do?  How are we
going to arrange this?  No that's untrue; my first thought was that she
was so tiny they'd have to do a C-section.  My second thought was a
twinge of jealousy.  My third thought was the question.  And my fourth
thought (I guess I was keeping track) was a hint of the second hand
dream I had been keeping hidden.

I cornered Gabe and we created a strategy for three people's lives as
we had that first time many months earlier.  I met with Skinner the
next week.

***

I think the air in the Hoover building changed subtly.

Dom had been on vacation with his tall, curvy wife and chubby kids.  He
returned sunned and beaming and within eight minutes learned all the
rumors that had been circumnavigating me all week.

"They say an Agent Dana Scully is returning to the FBI."

He had my attention.

"She'll be back in the labs as a forensic pathologist starting this
week."

"Do you know why she's coming back?"  I aimed for casual.

"Nope, thought you might, though."  I tried to disguise my pain as
irritation but Dom picked it up.

"She's just going to be one of several people we need to work with.
And she's damn good."  When I still provided no response he continued.
"She was your partner, Mulder.  You can still work together, if
necessary.  It's just unlucky that you two had to… y'know, take things
so far."

Unlucky wasn't the word I would use for it.  Unsurprisingly, I couldn't
come up with a word I would use.  "You don't know the first thing about
it."

"I've seen you guys together.  You were a great team.  Great.  And
she's sweet as hell."  Dom was smart enough to know what a simile is,
but at times he was too lazy to ensure they made sense.  I glared at
him and he shut up.

Even though I'd been imagining her all day, I was surprised when we
came upon Scully in the corridor.

"Dom.  Mulder."  A half smile hovered against her lips, as though she
didn't know where to put it.

I tried for cold but probably only got as far as bitter.

"Good to see you back, Dana," said faithful Dom.

"Thank you."  She nodded at him and, after a moment and a quick blue
glance at me, walked on toward the elevator.

Dom grumbled at me as she left.  "You couldn't just be pleasant?"

But I couldn't.  I couldn't speak at all.  It was very irritating.
Especially irritating because she seemed so self-possessed.  She was
also transparently beautiful.  Perhaps sweet as hell was an accurate
description of this whole thing.

***

\\ Some stubborn sweetness
Too still, by far, for agile joy
Lingers in my outstretched hand.\\

Despite the distance between us, seeing Mulder in the Hoover building
almost every day catalyzed a depth of feeling I had thought long lost.
Primarily the feeling was one of pain.  It hurt to finally know what I
had always suspected.  That he was too much for me, or I was too little
for him.  And I would never have him.

Still, returning to the FBI was interestingly freeing.

I'd moved back into the city and left Gabe and Julie with the house and
most of Imogen.  They adored her in a far more attentive way than I'd
been doing recently and I knew she was more than content.  In any case,
the benefits of being an adored and adoring aunt cannot be shrugged at
and I saw her every weekend.  Of course, I missed her ferociously.  I
missed Gabe too.  I even missed Juliana, whom I barely knew.

On my third day back at the FBI I began to review the Jeff White
files.  Of course, I trusted that Mulder had the investigation more
than perfectly under control, in his own way, but I couldn't bring
myself to ask him about it.

I opened my brother's family's file first.  Unfortunately it was
nothing like tearing off a Band-Aid, but it was the only way I could do
it.  I didn't let myself cry, and there was no reason to even imagine
Mulder's presence.  It felt like I was swallowing rocks, but I went on.

It was after midnight when I realized Mulder had walked into my office
and was eyeing me indeterminately.

“How long have you been here?”

“You took my files.”  It was almost a question and I blushed.

“I… I needed to know what happened.”

“And you couldn’t ask me?”

“I just… no, I didn’t think I could.”  There was a heavy pause.
“Should I have?”

He didn’t answer me, but stepped across the room and leaned over my
desk.  I wanted to bring my lips close to his face, but the moment was
too fragile.  I looked down.

“What have you found?” he asked.

“You refer to Charlie having shot Dr. White.”

“Yeah, some of Dr. White's blood was at the scene.  We confirmed the
blood samples matched.”

“How many bullets did they find?”

Mulder flipped through a couple of pages.  “Four.”

“Charlie was a pretty good shot.  I was wondering how it could be that
he didn’t stop the guy.”

"Charlie was... already fatally wounded.”  Mulder’s eyes held mine
fluidly, then he forced himself to turn back to the file.  “What’s
bothering you about this?”

“When I shot Dr. White, it was as if he didn’t feel it.  I shattered
his shoulder blade and he didn’t even whimper.  And I looked into his
eyes.  I felt strongly that he sensed no pain.  It looks like Charlie
hit him too.  But I don’t see any hospital records from that time.”

Mulder nodded, frowning a little.  “Yeah.  It appears he never went to
a hospital.  Of course, he would have used a false name.  Maybe I can
find something.”

"One other thing.  Before he attacked me, Dr. White said something
strange."

"That he wasn't there for you?"

"Mmm.  But he went on to say he was there for the other one.'"

"One.  So, you think he's still not aware of Charlie... Imogen."

“Maybe.  I don't know.  It could just be the ravings of an insane man.
I just thought it strange.”

“I’ll look into it.”  His voice sounded dismissive.

“Thank you, Mulder.”  He started out of the office, but turned back
slowly.

“You should go home, Scully.  You look exhausted.”

I didn’t know whether to be ecstatic that he had seen my face at all,
or miserable because I knew I looked awful.  I decided to stay with
composed.

“I’m fine, Mulder.  It’s just the new job.  And moving.  Everything’s
changed quite suddenly.  But I’m glad to be back here.”  My pride was
being washed away by his presence.  I hoped my tone hinted that this
gladness had not a little to do with his nearness.

“It’s working out for you?”

He was devastatingly casual.  It’s hard to know exactly what to say to
a new acquaintance who is your oldest friend.  A tie drawn in blood
cannot be rebuilt with mere airy words.

“Yeah.  It is.”

There was another brief pause.  Then he looked to me again and let his
eyes warm fractionally.  My breath hitched in my throat.

“You done with the files?”

“Do you need them?”

“Yes.”  He was lying, but I could understand that.  I handed them to
him and felt a tingle of infinity through the manila folder.

“Good night Scully.”

“Good night.”  He left steadily.

I wept then, and my tears dripped awkwardly onto my brother’s file.
Mulder frees me and traps me in one smooth motion.

\\Years may go by
But I think the heart remains a child.
The mind may grow wise
But the heart just sulks and it whines
And remains a child.
Why won't you love me?
Why won't you love me?\\