Title: Baby Part: Year Two Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@harding.edu< see Year One for other ~~@~~@~~ B A B Y ~~@~~@~~ Year Two ~~@~~@~~ Chapter One ~~@~~@~~ "we will learn to live together. i will call you ribbon of hunger. . ." --Lucille Clifton, 'scar' ~~@~~@~~ She washed her face with hard scrubs, peeling the layers of her skin from her in hard jerks, not knowing the pain until the soap soaked into her scratches. Hissing, she brought the paper towel from her face and looked in the mirror at her latest scars. She hoped they wouldn't scar.... The man had been brutal, fast, hard, jerking her from the room and shoving her into the next one, letting her fall wildly to the floor, the glass ripping into her hands and face and neck. He hadn't been paying much attention to her as he roared out demands to the other FBI agents clustered around the entrance, Mulder among them. It had been fairly easy to sneak up behind him, the heavy two-by-four weighty in her bleeding hands. Her fingers ached as she lifted it, her shoulders screamed as they took on the force. Homerun. The other agents had swarmed immediately and Mulder had been there, herding her from the circus now gathered, his mother hen act firmly in place. "Scully? Are you all right?" he called through the door to the ladies' restroom. "Yeah . . . uh," she paused, frustrated at herself for forgetting the lacerations. "Scully!" "Mulder, could you come here for a second?" she said, wincing as she cradled the first aid equipment in her bloodied hands. He was inside before she had even finished her thoughts. He came up beside her quickly, peering in concern at the painful looking scratches going down her face. The woman's bathroom at the Tipton County Sherriff Station was pretty well lit and he could see easily the gashes bleeding and trickling from her hands and face. "I thought I got all the glass out of my face, but when I tried to wash it free of the dirt. . . I think there's another piece in my cheek." Her mouth was twisting and he knew it took a lot for her to ask him to help, to admit to the pain. "Here?" he asked, pointing to her left cheek, where an ugly bit of skin flapped open. She nodded. "Could you . . .dig around for it?" "Dig around?" She met his eyes in the mirror and impressed upon him the need for this. "All right." He talked as he poked the sterilized needle into her cheek, needing the distraction to keep him from thinking about what he was doing to her. "The guy admitted to four counts of murder, Scully. He said he just imagines their death and they die. . ." "Mulder --" "Ah. Don't talk. Don't move." he said. She let out a frustrated growl. He wanted to laugh, and did, with nervousness. "I know you don't believe that, Scully." She said something like 'understatement' through her gritted teeth, digging her fignernails into her palms as it burned. He issued a soft exclamation. "And. Here it is." His voice was low and he stood close to her, holding up a long sliver of glass to let her see it. She slumped a bit more, resting against the sink. He let the glass fall into the sink, then took her hands into his. "You'll never get these bandaged by yourself, Scully." She didn't look at him, instead, kept her eyes closed as she attempted to regain some strength. He began to delicately swath her tattered hands in antibacterial cream, the clear gel sliding through his fingers and coating her scrapes. He carefully took the Band-Aids and applied them tightly to her hands, managing to keep every cut free of the sticky part and padded. She smiled softly at him. "Thanks, Mulder." "We have to go, Scully." he said, taking her elbow and leading her from the sink into better light. "What do you mean?" He carefully touched the cream to the scratches on her face, murmuring apologies as she hissed at the pain. "I have to be somewhere this weekend." She raised her eyebrows. "Where?" He hesitated. "Mulder. . ." "I'm going up to see Baby," he said softly, and went to Band-Aid her face. She stopped his hands with half concentration. "Not on my face . . . What?" "I've been going up every weekend that I can . . . I already have a flight out from National." She stared at him, automatically moving with him as he led her from the bathroom. Out in the hall, he dumped her supplies into her kit, then grabbed her elbow and began navigating her through the sheriff station. "Baby?" she said again, causing a few of the other agents to glance up at them in confusion, some with looks of satisfatcion. Mulder nodded, then recognized the looks they were getting. Mr. and Mrs. Spooky again. That'd be going around for a while. "Come on, Scully." She had already written out a formal statement and her report, and Mulder had done the same. They were free to go, and she followed along behind him weakly. In the car, she stared out at the sky, her thoughts in turmoil. It had been about ten months since she'd seen Baby, a year and four months since Baby had been found, neglected and depraved. "I didn't know you could do that," she said softly. He glanced up from the road and over to her, confused. "What?" "I want to go with you to see Baby." He gaped at her, then nodded. "All right. Call the airlines." She nodded and pulled out her cell phone. ~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Two ~~@~~@~~ "it does not help to know." --Lucille Clifton, "evening. . ." ~~@~~@~~ The halls were still the same, the smell was the same too. Baby powder and plastic toys and paper, along with old men and their theories and ideas and values. She walked close to Mulder, feeling out of place, feeling like a traitor to them all. She hadn't been here in ten months, but evidently, Mulder had been back a lot. "I didn't know," she whispered again. She had thought it would hurt Baby, confuse her and make her worse. She had needed to cut herself off completely from those beautiful hurting eyes, the silent and always still little girl. Mulder had been back a lot. She sidled up closer to him, then shied away, realizing what she was doing, angry with herself for not having the strenght to face these people, face Baby. Mulder paused at the observation room. "You know she won't remember your role in this. She didn't remember me either. I'm just the man that comes every so often." Often. Operative word there. "Does she know you?" Mulder nodded softly. "Does she know that you were here before?" "Yes. She knows you were too." "What?" "I've . . . uh, talked about you. She wants to know when you're coming. I guess now, huh?" She felt her mouth go dry and she nodded, taking firm grasp of the knob and twisting it. There was the window into Baby's room, the tables and refrigerator, stacks of food now, and toys everywhere. The room had been converted into a kind of kitchen, she could tell, where everyone ate together, and a high chair for Baby. She wondered how old, mentally, Baby was now. Mulder seemed to know exactly what she wondered. "She's on par with a two year old, maybe three, and acts pretty much the same too. She's smart though, and she learns quickly." Scully nodded and Mulder led her through the room, sort of acting like her shield from the looks of the other group members, the ones who had stayed with Baby for the entire year. The door opened into Baby's bedroom and the little girl's head turned swiftly, anxious to get away from her lessons. Amanda was looking up in annoyance, but her face softened when she saw who it was. Baby scrambled to her feet, pushing herself up with her hands, just as toddlers did. She made the attempt to run, and her wobbling legs got her to Mulder, where she buried her face into Mulder's knees. "Fox! Fox!" she yelled and the sound of her voice brought Scully to her knees beside the little girl. That whole first six months, she had ached to hear Baby's voice, her babbling, her crying, anything to show that she would be all right. Mulder had kneeled down with her, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek. "How are you Baby?" She smiled brightly. "I want to play!" She seemed so proud to be able to speak. Mulder nodded. "First, look here." He pointed to Scully and Baby's face scrunched up, like she was thinking. "Do you know who this is?" "The woman in the picture. She was here before. Right?" Mulder nodded, obviously pleased. "Do you remember what her name is?" Baby licked her lips and shifted in Mulder's grasp. "D- . . .Don't know." "This is Dana." Her face brightened. "Dana! I 'member!" Mulder smiled and hugged her again, but she wiggled away and came over to Scully. "Pretty hair," she said softly, her hand reaching out to run her fingers through it gently. "Thank you, Baby." Baby wiggled up close to her, then sat down on her knee, tangling her fingers through Dana's hair, inspecting it close with a solemn face. "Red!" she said suddenly. Scully laughed and felt better, more at ease. She could always be herself around little kids. With them, it didn't matter who you were, what you had done in the past. "That's right, it's red. Good job." The door slammed shut and Scully looked up to see that Amanda had left. "Looks like you don't have to learn anymore today." Baby wiggled on her knee and put tiny arms around her stomach. "Lift me up, Dana." Scully obligingly rose, pulling Baby up with her. Mulder stayed on the floor, near the bed, and watched as Scully's face relaxed and her body was lost in the feel of a child again. "Oh, you're getting heavy, Baby," she said, and felt a tickle of joy at that, knowing that Baby was no longer the bones and skin of a little girl. "My birfday is in five tomorrows." she said, excitedly. Scully looked impressed. "Oh really? Your birthday, huh? How old will you be?" "I'm gonna be six. Six is very big right?" Scully nodded. "Very big. You're going to get older." Baby nodded. "Amanda says I get presents." "Wow. Presents too." "Yup, can you tell me a story?" Scully nodded and seemed unfazed by the sudden change in subject. "Let's sit on the bed." Mulder rose, shaking his head, just as Baby frowned. "I'm not allowed on my bed before night time." Scully's eyes jerked up and she glanced to Mulder, who shrugged. "Oh. Sorry. Thanks for telling me. Then let's sit in the floor here." "Okay, come on Fox." Scully smiled at her insistent attitude. "What kind of story do you want?" she said. "Okay, wait. Fox, you sit here, and I sit here, and Dana you sit there." Dana sat where she indicated, next to Mulder, and Baby sat in Mulder's lap, easily stretching out in his big frame. "I want a story about when I was little. When you were here." Scully sighed and closed her eyes. "Please?" Baby said softly, her lips turning down into a pout. "Okay, Baby. I'll tell you about when we were here." ~~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Three ~~@~~@~~ "So how did I get to be born?" Baby asked, twirling her finger into Scully's hair. She had switched positions to sit in Scully's lap while Mulder took his turn telling stories. Scully shifted from side to side on the floor, glancing at Mulder and wondering just how he planned to answer that question. He seemed at ease though, and she realized this was a game with him. Baby asked questions and Mulder would tell her a long, drawn out story that held little truth to it. "How were you born? Well, let's see. Have you ever heard of a dragon?" Baby giggled and rolled her eyes. "There's no such things as dragons, Fox." "How do you know that? Have you ever seen one?" Baby frowned. "No." "Well then. I have. And this one dragon was very big, with green wings that sparkled and reflected the light-" "What's flected?" Mulder smiled and Scully snaked her arms around Baby's middle, lifting her a bit so she could get a better position on the floor. "*Re*flected, Baby. It means that when the sun shined on the dragon's wings, you could see the shiny part." Baby nodded and motioned for him to keep going. "Okay, so this dragon was very big, like I said, and it had red eyes that smoked because he was so hot all the time, from the fire that lived inside of him. And when he got too hot, he breathed it all out in one huge sneeze." Baby giggled, imagining a dragon sneezing fire. "This dragon's name was Lonely, because he was very very sad all the time." Baby was pouting and her eyes were tearing. "How sad was Lonely?" "Very sad. He didn't have anyone to love. All his family was gone and he didn't have any baby dragons to take care of. He really didn't like baby dragons either because he thought they were smelly --" Another sharp giggle from Baby. "And so he wished for a baby girl to love, and he wished by the first star in the sky every night. He even prayed." "What?" "Prayed." "What's paid?" Scully's blood froze and she wanted to tremble, but bit her lip instead. "Baby, do you know about God?" she said softly. "Yes. Dr. Adams said he made everything. But Amanda told me that he was a really nice person who lives in heaven and loves me." "God bless Amanda," Mulder muttered. Scully shot him a dirty look. "Baby, praying is when you talk out loud to God and ask him for things." Baby made a face. "Tay. Keep going, Fox." "Well, Lonely the Dragon wished so hard that one day, he found a blanket outside his cave, with a small baby girl inside, crying and making a lot of noise. He didn't like the baby making noise so he told her to be quiet --" "Which is why I didn't talk till very late, right Fox?" "Right, Baby. And that's how you got your name, too." "I like that story. Tell me 'nother one Fox. Tell me 'bout your name." "Well . . . ah. Let's see." Mulder plunged into an uncomfortable silence, glancing to Scully once then back to Baby. He did not seem to think Scully would be much help in coming up with a story. She arched her eyebrow and pulled Baby back into her, caressing her hair softly. "Baby, I can tell you a story about how he got his name." Baby seemed wary but she nodded. "Tell me story." "A long, long, long time ago, when Fox was born --" This got her a withering glance from Mulder. "-- he was so small and so smart, that his mother said he was just like a fox. And when he was little, like you, he used to hide all over their house and his mother could never find him because he was so good at crawling into little places." Baby was getting in to the story, her face just as animated as Mulder's could be when they were on a case. "Tell me what he looked like . . ." Scully closed her eyes to imagine what Mulder must have been like. "He had dark eyes, like coffee beans, but smooth and rich, almost like hot chocolate." "What are coffee beans?" "You know coffee?" "Coffee . . . Dr. Adams and Amanda drink coffee." "It's what makes coffee, you grind it up and get --" "O-tay. Tell me more." She shut her eyes again and let her head drop back to the bed, feeling somehow drained. She'd forgotten how exhausting Baby could be. "Those dark eyes, filled with his soul, and soft cheeks, like yours, like all children have, with clear skin, like milk. And thick red lips that puckered beautifully when he cried. Like all children cry. But his mother never told him to stop crying, so he talked, and talked, and sometimes he doesn't know when to stop." She was grinning now, but uneasy inside, realizing that her words had said more of her feelings than she had wanted them to. He was watching her, softly opening his lips to say something, when Baby broke in. "Fox! Tell me how Dana got her name. Just like she did." Mulder was looking at Scully though, forgetting the little girl sitting in her lap. "Fox!" He blinked and looked back at her, then slowly at Scully. "You want to know how Dana got her name?" "Yes, please," she said quietly, thinking he was making her use her manners. "Well, when Dana was born, her mother and father looked into her face and saw how beautiful she was, how her eyes were like the sky on its brightest sunny day, how her brow swept back into waves of fire red, how her lips were poised perfectly to win her way. And they were at a loss to name her. So an angel came down to them and spoke her name in their ears, giving God the glory for her birth." Baby was smiling; she had no idea. Mulder was watching Scully, reading the swirl of fear and joy chaotically dancing in her eyes. "Right, Dana?" he whispered. She licked her lips with the heart crushing feelings raging through her. "Right." Baby grinned and suddenly, a yawn escaped from her lips. Mulder glanced to his watch. "Oh Baby, it's time for your nap, now." "I not tired." she begged. "Yes, I think you are tired." "I not, I not tired. Please?" "No, Baby, time to sleep." Scully said and rose to her feet, ignoring the sway of sitting too long, and the way her blood was pooled in her muscles. They tucked Baby in the bed, kissing her cheeks softly, doing what they had routinely done for six months before leaving her. It made Scully want to stay there forever. She prayed . . . Oh God, let me be able to leave. ~~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Four ~~@~~@~~ It was not the same; she realized this right away. This time, there were beds all lined up in a big room for them to sleep on, along with the rest of the visitors, and a communal shower too. No motel where she could hear Mulder through the walls; no whisper of the television as she spiraled into sleep. It made her shudder a bit, and Scully wished she could sleep with Baby, like she used to, liked she wanted to. The room was a deep blue and had ten beds lining the walls, with a huge open space in the middle. She and Mulder grabbed beds next to each other and stowed their luggage underneath. Dr. Adams told them they were alone in the room, since Baby hadn't inspired much visiting within the last few months. It seemed everyone wanted the horror, the struggle, not this cheerful, bright, developing little girl. "She was a phenom in the beginning, Scully. But now that's she has made steps to getting over her social deprivation, no one's interested. The group had to petition the President at the end of last year to keep up funds. They barely got the grant needed to provide for Baby on a daily basis." Mulder was lying down on his bed, fingers interlaced behind his head, eyes staring sightlessly at the tiled ceiling. Scully shifted so that she could see his face, sitting up on her cot, her hands pressed between her legs, shoulder slumped slightly. "How come they couldn't get money?" "Well, in the beginning . . . Scully, what I'm going to say isn't too nice. But it's not how I feel personally." She nodded, watching his puckered frown, the way his cheeks reddened with embarassment. "In the beginning, all the top social science schools, Harvard, Oxford, etc. fought to fund this little project. Professors all over the world were salivating at the chance. But once they didn't get it, once the novelty of having a 'wild child' wore off, no one wants to support it. No one wants to spend money on something that won't reap rewards for them, whether that's their name in a sociology journal, or a new theory they can call their own, or even . . . even Baby's success. The fact of the matter is, Scully, they don't think it's worth it. No one thinks Baby's going to live." He wasn't looking at her. She fought the urge in her to cry, pushed it back like she'd done so many, many times before, simply buried her head in her hands and breathed. She wanted to somehow, somehow, make things right, make it all okay for Baby. She remembered the two other cases Mulder had told her about, at the very beginning. The five year old Anna, who died at the age of nine with only the most basic rudimentary skills in language and merely the ability to take care of her own physical needs and nothing else. And then Genie, who had been thirteen at her discovery, in an infantile stage of social development, and just as horrible a demise. Suddenly she really wanted to cry. She wanted to sob everything out of the tight space within her chest that felt ready to explode with the sorrow. The utter sorrow of a little girl she had come to love, despite all the warnings, the lack of a response at first, the changes now -- a child she loved just as she loved Emily. Doomed to find no real niche in society, to establish nothing more than basic sounds and tasks. There would not be federal grants to take care of this little girl her entire life, if she lived long enough. She was an innocent. Thoroughly and completely, and would remain as such forever. It was like a physical ache that split open her bones, sliver by sliver, digging into her soul. She jumped when a warmth fell across her shoulders. Mulder's arms were circling her; she felt the bed dip under his weight, but could do nothing. She stayed stiffly bowed; if she dared to move to him, she would surely cry. "Did I tell you about Isabelle?" Numbly, she shook her head, eyes squeezed tightly shut against his voice. "Isabelle was found at the age of seven. She's the one whose mother had been blind and mute, and bound on the bed next to her. She managed to catch up to the kids her age, Scully. She had good care, she had the contact of her mother occasionally while tied up, but the fact is, she made it Scully. I'm not giving up on our Baby, not at all. Don't you give up just like everyone else has." She couldn't face this anymore, couldn't think about the things that would come for Baby, couldn't even breathe. In a blur of need and fear, she turned into Mulder and crushed her face to his chest. He didn't hesitate, wrapping his arms tightly around her, placing a heavy hand to her neck with gentleness. He said nothing, made no attempts to get her to cry, simply let her breathe in his concern, his strength. So few times this had happened. All of them centered on death. He had discovered what made Dana Scully weak. Death. And what that death would do to others, to the people she loved most. He wondered if anything else made her weak. ~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Five ~~@~~@~~ "No man is an island, entire of itself. . .any man's death diminishes me because I am invovled in mankind." --John Donne, Meditation 17 ~~@~~@~~ Saturday morning came and he rolled over in the tiny bed, managing to catch himself before toppling over the side. Breathing sharply, he laid there for a moment, taking in his surroundings while he gained back equilibrium. The ceiling was pale white, with plastic crossbeams, the cheap squared off kind of tile held in place by them. One light panel was held there, the neon bulbs running through it. He squinted his eyes and could make out the individual bars. It reminded him of school. He frowned at the bitter taste that left him with and turned on his side, facing Scully. She was awake and watching him, a secret smile on her face. His eyebrows rose, asking for an explanation, and she curled up tighter in the bed. "Do you always wake up so dramatically, Mulder?" He gave her a leer and sat up, putting that same heighth difference between them again. "Oh, you mean my almost falling out of bed? Of course. Standard procedure. It's not like you're very subtle when you wake up either." "Well, you didn't hear me, did you?" "I've seen you wake up Scully. It's a riot." She narrowed her eyes, but made no attempt to get out of bed. "A riot? Really?" "Yes. All I have to do is say your name, even very softly, and you jerk and flail your arms for a moment and then your eyes snap open." "That's when we're on a case. I sleep very lightly when we're doing stakeouts, Mulder. I have to be ready." "For what?" "With you, anything." He nodded, giving in to her point, then bunching his pillow behind his head and laying back down. "So, how do wake up when we're not on a case?" "Slowly." "Ah, you enjoy it, huh?" "Yeah. As much as possible. Especially since . . . since everything that has happened to us." His face grew soft. "Yeah. I guess waking up would be a gift every morning." She nodded. "I think it is. I almost . . . I might not have ever woken up, Mulder. If you hadn't come after me, I'd still be asleep . . . forever entombed." He shivered. "I would never let that happen." She smiled at him sadly. "I hope not." "Isn't death a kind of eternal sleep? I mean, with your belief . . . " "But with what I believe, Mulder, you wake up. Either in heaven or hell, whichever." "You always wake up." She watched him think, the morning rising to dust his cheeks with sun specks, the wrinkling of his forehead giving him an aged appearance. She realized with sudden depression that both of them were getting older . . . were no longer as young and filled with the same passion as before. "I think, Scully, that if there is a heaven, I would not like to go." She stopped thinking about their age and concentrated on him. "You wouldn't?" "No. I just want to rest. To sleep forever." "Why?" He turned to her, and she caught her breath at the deep desolation trapped within him, the haunted soul that shimmered out at her. "I just want it all to stop." His lips quivered with his confession, his twisted smile quirked with the pain that was surfacing in him. She moved from her bed and slid in beside him, pushing away his weak protests and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding tightly. "I think I would like to be there with you, Mulder. I think I'd like that very much." He stayed unmoving, his head buried in her embrace. ~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Six ~~@~~@~~ "'I see,' she said. 'This is still Narnia, and, more real and more beautiful than the Narnia down below, just as *it* was more real and more beautiful than the Narnia outside the Stable door! I see. . .world within world, Narnia within Narnia. . .'" --[Lucy] CS Lewis, 'The Last Battle' ~~@~~@~~ When she walked into the room for the second time that weekend, she was dismayed at Baby's sudden behavior. She refused to speak, refused to eat her food, and did not make eye contact with any of them. Dr. Adams pulled them aside, an excited, yet frustrated whisper in his voice. "She gets like this after bad dreams. It's like her unconscious mind remembers the awful things done to her, and then triggers this in her. Psychologically, it's fascinating. Personally, this takes her back months, even the entire year." Mulder sighed heavily, his mind still plagued by the thoughts of the morning, his spirits dampered by the usually cheerful girl before him. He wanted to be lost in her world, to be swept up in her innocence and vulnerability. "Baby?" There was no response, and he slumped into the chair beside her bed. Scully refused to let them both go into this deep depression. "Baby, you know you can't be on the bed when it's not night time. Come on, get up." She moved to Baby's limp body and pulled on her arms, gathering her up in a warm embrace, hoping to remind her of the way her life was now. "Come on, Baby. Mulder and I want to play with you today." Mulder stayed in the seat, watching her with a veiled curiousity, the kind that told him he wasn't going to get his hopes up. "Baby, you want me to tell you a story? Well, we're going to tell you stories, all right. And then, when you're ready to play, you just tell me." Dr. Adams was motioning to them, shaking his head. "She's not capable of that, Dana. I know you think this will help her, but her mind has sent her into a kind of coma." "I've been taught that the sound of voices helps to bring patients out of the coma." Dr. Adams sighed and shrugged. "Do whatever you think wise, Dr. Scully. Goodness knows I can't reach her like this." Scully glanced to Mulder, disappointed that he refused to back her up, but sat there unfeeling. She carried Baby to the small table, then sat on the floor in front of it, pulling out crayons and clean white paper. She didn't know much about sociology or psychology, but she knew people, she knew medicine. And the best medicine for depression was love. Pure and simple. Cradling Baby against her chest, Scully began to draw a house on the paper, then stick figures in wild, bright colors. "See this, Baby. It's your family. Let me tell you a story about your strange family." There wasn't even a flicker. She sighed, glanced once to Mulder who sat and simply watched, then began a long, detailed account of everyone she could think of. Starting with herself. ~~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Seven ~~@~~@~~ Her voice had grown excited, animated, when Baby's eyes had focused on the drawings in front of her. She wasn't going to give up. Mulder now sat beside her, the silent war within himself over for the moment; he had chosen hope. He rubbed Baby's arms and legs and stomach, providing constant tactile stimulation, just as when he had first met Baby and kissed her forehead. Scully held the bright pictures before her, her voice modulating in pitch and cadence as she made up wild stories about brave knights and far away aliens and terrible monsters. She gave a rough summary of her favorite children's book, "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe." Mulder seemed amused at her rendition and laughed out loud when she imitated Aslan's voice, the deep timbre making the hairs on his neck stand up. Suddenly, Mulder cut in before she could begin another story, calmly delivering his own with his eyes intent on Scully. "Hey Baby, I have a story. Listen to this. Once upon a time, there was a very sad little boy who had to live all alone because his mother and father had died." Scully shot him a look, as if asking if he was trying to make her even more depressed. He creased his eyebrows at her and continued. "Well, this little boy had one friend though, who made him feel better every time he got too sad. Her name was Cathy, and his name was Heathcliff. Now, Cathy lived in a very big house and she had dinner every night with her family and little Heathcliff had to wait outside for her because her family didn't like him very much." Scully was frowning, and her lips mouthed to him : "Wuthering Heights"? He nodded, shrugging. "Heath, we'll call him, sat outside on a bench every night, in the cold and the heat, but it was worth it, because he knew Cathy would come out and see him when she was done. And she always brought him food to eat. He would have starved if it wasn't for her. Cathy didn't really understand what all she meant to Heath, she just knew they were friends. But to Heath, Cathy was his life." Mulder's voice had gotten very soft, and she knew he had deviated from "Wuthering Heights" completely, but she said nothing. His 'story' was turning out to be more fact than fiction. "One day, Cathy and Heath went down to some rocks by the ocean, and they played in the little tidepools, catching fish and crabs and having fun. Heath was teasing her and trying to scare her with the ugly looking fish, but she wasn't afraid. So he hid from her, and just as she started calling out frantically for him, he jumped up and yelled to scare her. Cathy wasn't expecting this and she slipped on the wet rocks and fell from their little ledge. He scrambled after her, watching in horror as her body was tossed from rock to rock before smacking hard into the sand with a sickening thud." Scully felt like she was going to cry, or hit him for telling such a story. Mulder had stopped rubbing Baby's stomach, instead he was very still, his eyes closed as if he could see it all in his head. "He was sobbing when he made it to the bottom, scrapes stinging all over his face, one arm probably broken because a slight fall he had on the way down. She was so still, so very still, not breathing, her body cold in the pale light of the moon. He was afraid to touch her, afraid he would hurt her more." Mulder's voice was ragged, his body shaking. "He stood there, numb, until he saw her eyes flicker open and her head move. He ran up to her, crouching beside her body, touching her face reverently, forgetting the blood, the fear. She whispered his name and her face grew panicked as pain shot through her. He kept saying he was sorry, but she couldn't seem to hear him, because she didn't say anything back. He just kept saying it, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry" Mulder was staring off at the wall, a thin sheen of sweat coating him. She wondered if this was his nightmare. "He kept pleading for her forgiveness, and she kept trying to say something and in the end he sobbed over her body as her last breaths stole away her message. He strained for the sound of her lips, the feel of a heart, and found nothing. There was nothing." Baby was sobbing, her tiny body curled tightly into Scully's, fingers clenching around her shirt, tears already soaking her to the skin. She hadn't even realized Mulder's story had made her cry. All she could think was that Heath had never heard Cathy's last words. He didn't know what he meant to her, what she had been trying to tell him all along. Standing quickly, jerking herself from the world her feelings had been spun off into, Scully took Baby up in her arms, walking her along the floor, whispering in her ear that everything was going to be all right. But Baby must have known she didn't believe it, because she sobbed herself into an exhausted sleep. ~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Eight ~~@~~@~~ "there are things i understand like the universe and its loneliness." --Laura Bontrager, 'there are things i understand' ~~@~~@~~ Butterflies only live for one day. The thought spun in her for a long time as she walked Baby around the room, slipping her deeper into sleep. Butterflies only live for one day. He had told her that during the cancer, at a time when he didn't know about it, but she had a feeling. What a feeling. What a sad fact of life: Butterflies only live for one day. She wished they lived forever. Of any animal, any insect, anything, a butterfly deserved to live forever. It made her want to cry. She placed Baby in her bed and walked quietly out the door, only to find that Mulder had been watching her be a mother through the observation window. He had told her also, go be a doctor. Not, go be a mother. He knew. She knew. Butterflies only live for one day. Babies only exist in fairy tales and horror movies. But life was a combination of butterflies and babies, and all she wanted to really do was go be a partner. A partner to Mulder. He stood and came over to her, slipping a hand to her shoulders and squeezing them tightly. "Hey, you tease," she said, and grabbed his hand as he pulled it away. He muffled a laugh. "That's not something I've ever heard about me." She sat down and he began massaging her tensed, tight shoulders, thinking that this was always what Scully was to him, tense, tight, commanding. It was a fine image for a partner, a lousy one for a woman. Unless he was talking about sex. Then it was different. "Scully?" "Um,hm?" "Want to get some dinner?" "Only if you finish what you started." He had a sudden flashback of his hallway, of their almost kiss, then a bee, and her face as she fell to the floor. She meant the backrub. He decided to take her literally. Bending forward, he slid his hands across her stomach, moving his head to the side of her cheek for one brief thinking instant. Then he turned and found her lips waiting, aching, for his. ~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Nine ~~@~~@~~ ". . .did it become his early lunge toward language did his astonishment surround him did he shudder did he whisper eve" --Lucille Clifton, 'the birth of language' ~~@~~@~~ There was light and there was darkness the second day. And it was good. ~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Ten ~~@~~@~~ On Sunday, they rested. Her body curled in the bed, lazily remembering the words they'd said, the ideas they'd had, the dreams they'd confessed. So much to be done, so much talking of the future and what it might be with them in it. Just talking. She smiled. That was Mulder, to the utmost. He kissed her, he let his hands tease her body, and then they talked. It was a good thing, to take this newness that was not so new with the slow deft movements of apt and ready intellectual lovers. She wanted the physical side, just as much as he did, but she wanted it slow, sensual, a time found in healing and security. They were both too on edge now, with the X-Files re-opened, with Baby slipping back, with the story of death and last words. She had fallen asleep alone, but not at all lonely. Waking now, opening her eyes to the sun, she felt his warmth, felt his breath along her cheek. And there he was, this time watching her wake up, listening to her breaths as she took in life for another morning, as she savored the day given to her by a merciful God. "Good morning," he said softly and planted a kiss on her lips, to let it grow there until her mouth flowed with rich fruit. "Yes, it is." she murmured and brought his lips back to reap his harvest. He smiled, lightly kissed her, then moved away. "Let's see if Baby's all right now." She nodded, then took her clothes and a towel to the common shower room, delighted with the huge open space available to her, all by herself. He followed for a moment, then shut the door, winking at her. Sitting back down on the bed she had just vacated, he pulled himself under the sheets and sighed, smelling her surrounding him. The shower hissed on and he was dreaming of images he probably shouldn't, just thinking, replaying her conversations, listening to her voice, and then his mind suddenly clicked off. And jerked him back to Baby. Baby, something something was wrong. He couldn't find it, couldn't replace the wonderful feelings he had just had, only this new, new strange bad feeling. Baby. Was dying. He jerked up, flustered, breathing all the wrong ways, through all the wrong ideas swirling in his mind like water down the drain and she was coming out of the shower, running to him, panicked. "Scully. . .Baby, something --" "Come on, Mulder." she was saying and pulling on him and he could only think -- but how'd you manage to change your clothes in front of me and I not notice? ~~~~~ When they got to the observation room, it was crowded with people from the group, anxiously hovering as the special medical team reserved for Baby worked on her. Mulder felt sick. He had made her cry the other night, he had made her cry. The men were shaking their heads, whispering among themselves. Scully pushed forward, shoving aside the young interns, the proffessors, the psychologists. She reached the bed, finding the paramedics doing CPR on her thin body, an IV already hooked into her arm. "What's wrong?" Mulder said, his voice in her ear. She shook her head and could only watch as the medics worked, not knowing what she could do to help them. They were talking, issueing harsh orders with thin lips that testified to the seriousness of her condition. Scully slid into the foray, quickly explaining that she was a doctor. The woman in charge nodded at her and they discussed a few points, examining her blood count with a critical eye. Mulder hedged along the fringes of the group, slipping further to the back, wishing he had never come, wishing he had not been so presumptious to assume that his way was the right way. He hadn't been around, Baby was theirs now. He had no right to just breeze in on the weekends and take over her entire life. Crouching against the wall, Mulder buried his head in his hands, shutting out the sounds of her fight for life. ~~~~ He felt a soft touch, the whisper of skin against his forehead. He looked up, bangs falling into his eyes, bleary and weary. Scully squatted down next to him, brushing the hair from his face, a mothering gesture that made him feel even worse for what he had done. "Mulder, she was poisoned." His face paled and he lifted trembling hands to take her fingers between his palms. "What?" "She . . . was poisoned. It . . . it must have been sometime yesterday . . . oh, God Mulder. She was so listless yesterday and we thought . . . we thought. . ." Her chin was trembling, and it was the closest he had seen her to crying since the moment in his hallway. The tears slipped softly to her cheeks, where he wiped them swiftly from her skin. Why was *she* crying? She couldn't cry, he was the one who had made Baby hurt. She was the one who came to him and made him feel better, made him feel worthwhile, guiltless. "I know, I thought . . . I thought I had pushed her too much, and . . ." "And we were trying to . . . and she was sick and we didn't even know. I should have known, I should have seen the signs. They were all there, I can't believe --" "Scully." "I just shut myself off to it. I didn't --" "Scully. Stop." She paused, glancing back up at him, then slumped down against the wall, leaning her head against it. He took her hand, when really he wanted to pull her into him, and traced the curves of her fingers. "She's going to be all right." Scully said softly. He nodded at her, still shaking from his recent and fresh guilt. He wanted to say that it wasn't her fault, that it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't. Mulder didn't believe it. ~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Eleven ~~@~~@~~ Baby was lying still, her pale skin seeming to glow with the dim lights and the tube running down her throat marring her beautiful face. Scully sat beside her bed, head resting against the back of the chair, eyes closed and her breathing regular. Mulder was in the corner, cradling his head in his hands, trying to keep himself from falling asleep. He needed to be awake in case Baby woke up and didn't know what was going on. He had made a sort of promise to Scully too, that he would watch out for Baby while she slept. Even though it was a mental promise, and she would never know if he backed down on it. Standing suddenly, he walked over to her bed, sitting down next to the bed, in between Baby and Scully's chair. Slipping one hand through Baby's, carefully navigating the tubes, he stroked her small fingers, letting the softness of her skin ease his frantic, keyed up mind. Scully shifted in her chair, then woke, the cramps in her body causing her enough discomfort to make her abandon sleep. She looked at him, her lips lifting into a kind of self-degrading smile, reaching out to capture his free hand with hers. "So, how's she doing?" she said softly. Mulder shrugged. "Asleep." "That's good. You should get some sleep too, Mulder." "So should you." he said back, raising his eyebrows. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't want to do this with you, Mulder. You've been up a while, and I've been able to sleep some. Staying awake to punish yourself for something you didn't do won't help anyone." She looked straight into his eyes and dared him to say anything back. He shrugged his tight shoulders then gave her an apologetic smile. "Come here." She stayed perfectly still, glancing at him with an almost wary look. He bent forward and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her up to him. Caught between his legs and his arms, she attempted to struggle, but quickly gave up when she sensed he wasn't going to let her go. He captured her face with his hands, his thumbs smoothly sliding down her skin, tracing every tiny line, every movement of her quirking lips as she watched him stare at her. Then he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. She turned her head and nuzzled his neck, arms reaching up for him immediately, body already surrendering to his touch. She wanted to feel needed, wanted to feel protected too. He made her feel. That was what it always came down to. He made her feel like a human, like there was more to her than the X-Files, than her family, than even herself. He pulled her down to him, cradling her body as if it were a tender treasure, placing soft kisses along her hairline. She wiggled in his arms, then pulled back. She wanted to know what this was with them. It had come up so suddenly, and then, not so swiftly at all. It had been building between them for a long time, and yet, she had been surprised by it. "Mulder . . ." He shook his head, tangling his fingers in her hair and shutting his eyes to her questions. "She's going to be okay. And then we have to leave," he whispered. She stilled, wondering what his words meant, what he had behind this. "Then we have to leave," she echoed, and slipped from his arms. ~~~~~ ~~@~~@~~ Chapter Twelve ~~@~~@~~ "Children are a poor man's wealth." --Danish Proverb ~~@~~@~~ Sunday ended in nothing, an empty hole widening in her. She paced the room, her bags waiting outside the room, placed neatly beside Mulder's, her jacket already shrugged onto her shoulders. Slipping into a sigh, Scully drifted closer to Baby, who was listening to Mulder tell her one last story before he left. The little girl's eyes were barely open, her every strength intent on staying awake long enough to hear the end. She was clutching Mulder's fingers in her own, smiling slightly and nodding when he looked at her. Baby glanced to her when she sidled nearer and smiled brightly, but her eyes were still fever dimmed and her face pale with the effects of the posion. After a long talk with Skinner, Mulder and Scully had agreed to come back to work, as long as an agent was posted to guard Baby. The agent was waiting outside, and he had a competent medical background. He would know what was and wasn't supposed to be given to Baby, and he could stop another posioning. They still weren't sure if it was accidental or on purpose. Mulder finished his story and kissed her cheeks, brushing the soft hair from her eyes with a gentle hand. "Baby, we have to go now." "Be back for birfday?" she whispered, her eyes slipping shut even as she spoke. "We're going to be back for your birthday, Baby. Don't worry. And we're bringing you presents too." Scully said, taking one of her hands and kissing it lightly. Baby nodded and her eyes drooped for a moment. "Dane . . . Dana, could I kiss you bye?" Scully leaned in and wrapped her arms around Baby, kissing her lips and then her nose. "We'll see you later, Baby." Baby nodded and her eyes slipped close again, her strength exhausted. Scully stood and took Mulder's hand as he sat there, enraptured by the little girl before him. He shook his head and stood with her, squeezing her hand and leading her to the door. Scully glanced back and saw Baby sleeping, her eyes slipped shut, wrapped in medical equipment and machines. She let a sigh escape, then straightened her shoulders and walked from the room, Mulder's warmth at her back. ~~@~~@~~ end Year Two