Title: Refine (1/7). . .aka Rift 4
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.

Thanks to Melissa.

~~~~
Refine
~~~~

"See, I have refined you, but not like silver;
I have tested you in the furnace of adversity."
--Isaiah 48:10

~~~~

Grace was curled up asleep on Mulder's chest, her mouth opened and hair
dishevelled, but he had not wanted to leave his mother.

Aunt Beth had gone on back to the motel, and her two sons had retreated
to the comfort of their wives. Only he and Scully sat vigil in his
mother's room, watching the night from a thick-paned window and through
the smoke coming from the generator below them.

Scully stood and walked to his mother, pulled the blanket tighter around
her, watched the numbers on the moniter.

Mulder flicked a wrist to the steady 75, giving her a slight grin.

"What does that mean? Is it good?"

Scully frowned, then noticed the red number glowing in the semi-dark of
the room. She laughed.

"That's not anything, Mulder. I mean, it just shows how much they're
giving her in the I.V. line."

"So, what is it? 75 what?"

"75 cc's of probably sugar water."

His eyebrows raised and he stared at the I.V. dangling from the hook.

"Sugar water?"

She came back to sit down beside him, taking his still pointing finger
and smiling. "Sugar water gives her some extra nourishment, and helps
keep her blood pressure up. It's a good thing. Not really technical,
but. . ."

He nodded and watched the 75, glowing and red before them, its constant
presence something that oddly reassured him.

"So how much is that?"

"Hm. Well, you know those little medicine cups that come on top of
children's cough syrup?"

"Like we had for Grace?"

"Yeah. Well, one of those is 30 cc's. And this is only 75 an hour. Not
too bad, pretty average really."

"So, it doesn't mean anything -- good or bad, right?"

She leaned back, a hand on Grace's back to feel her breathing.

"Basically."

He remained silent, taking in the rest of the room, its two shelves and
television mounted high on the wall, along with a scraggly plant left
behind, cotton swabs and antiseptic pads and washcloths littering the
sink. A bathroom door led to the toilet and small shower, and a long bar
kept anyone from falling.

"So. . .tell me what the doctor said."

She glanced to him, biting her lip as she always did when she didn't
like the truth.

He hadn't asked before, in front of his aunt and her children, partly
because he was afraid to know.

"Mulder-"

"Please, Scully. Please tell me."

She had tears in her eyes for him, and she looked back to his mother, so
tiny and sickly looking.

"She had a stroke, like Jess said. Dr. Aiken told me everyone was
praying for her, your family, his church. It seems your mother's been
going off and on to a local Baptist congregation."

Mulder's eyebrows shot up. "A Baptist church?"

"Did you go to church. . .?"

"Not really. My father was somewhat Jewish and Mom talked a little bit
about God. Enough so that I prayed for Samantha to be safe every night,
after praying for her to come back didn't work."

Scully sighed, evading a sensitive subject.

"Well. Prayer seemed to work this time. She had a cerebral stroke,
Mulder. That's not good at all. She couldn't walk or talk, and when a
cup was put in her hand, she didn't have the motor skills to grasp it.
But the very next day, she was walking around the room, nodding and
talking to everyone."

Her eyes turned to him as she paused, watching the passive face he put
up. It was somewhere between the panic look and the nonchalant look.

They were all the same with him.

Scully couldn't see his eyes and that bothered her.

"Mulder, I'm not sure if you understand it, but that's a very big deal.
With this kind of stroke, she shouldn't have been up for about two weeks
of a hospital stay and about three weeks of therapy. Walking and talking
the next day. . ."

"So, what happened to her?" he cut in, refusing to find the miracle.

She sat up in the chair, deciding to leave out the spiritual elements
that Dr. Aiken had firmly believed in.

"She had congestive heart failure yesterday."

Mulder buried his head into Grace's shoulder, ignoring Scully's hand on
his arm, biting his tongue to keep the tears from his eyes.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, concentrating on every
breath that came in and out of his lungs.

"And. . .and it doesn't look good?"

"Oh. . .Mulder. . ."

"Tell me, Scully. Just the truth. I know we haven't been too good at
that lately, but-"

"I'd never lie to you, Mulder."

He looked up and the fear and sorrow in her eyes made him feel the grief
he was trying to force away.

"It doesn't look good, Mulder. They give her a few weeks, maybe. She's
just. . .old. . .and worn out."

Mulder lifted his head, sniffing to keep the tears away.

"I'm not going to cry for her," he said softly.

Scully got up from her seat, moving around to kneel in front of his
chair, her face anguished.

"Why not?" she whispered.

"This is better for her, Scully. To leave all this behind. . ."

"But, Mulder. She's your mother."

"Maybe so. She used to be, I remember. I think she wanted to be. But
losing Samantha was too much, Scully. It was just too much."

He closed his eyes, felt her lips glance along his forehead, then her
hands take Grace from his lap; he suddenly felt barren, cold.

She placed Grace in the chair she'd just vacated, then moved back into
Mulder, wrapping her arms around him, warming him.

He leaned down and pulled her up into him, closing his eyes tightly,
pushing away the sense of lost time that seemed ready to choke him.

She didn't tell him to cry, because she knew that he didn't want to, and
that he would feel worse if he did.

She held him, praying the end would be swift and merciful.
~~~~

Sometime near one in the morning, he drove them back to the motel, all
of them dragging inside to simply crawl into bed, clothes and all.

Grace was already in her blue spotted pajamas, her stuffed Blue dog
tucked under her arm, and her eyes drooping dangerously.

They pulled the covers over her in the single-sized bed, then got into
the king sized one themselves.

Scully stayed awake until she heard Grace's even, deep, and noisy
breathing, then she too fell into dreams.

Mulder moved closer and pulled her into his arms, sighing in her scent
and trying to relax.

As he wished for sleep, all he saw were the confused grey eyes of his
mother, pleading for help and begging to be let go.
~~~~

Grace was somewhere in the hospital with her Aunt Beth, no doubt
charming all the people she met, while Mulder tried to talk to his
mother.

Scully sat in the chair, holding her tongue and trying very  hard not to
hate the woman that had helped mess up her husband so much.

It was tough, but the look of honest, childlike love in Mulder's eyes
kept her from it, and she settled her chin in her hand for a long wait.

Finally Mulder looked up to her for help and she stood, coming to Mrs.
Mulder's bedside with a smile.

"How're you doing Mrs. Mulder?"

The woman seemed to be all right, slightly listless, but not as confused
as before. Scully figured that Mulder had run out of things to say.

"Are you feeling better?"

The woman nodded. "Much."

"Good. Are you eating anything?"

She sort of looked away, glancing to a feeding table with a shrug.
"Nothing good here. Not very hungry."

"Yeah, but you have to eat so you can feel better, Mrs. Mulder. Has
anything looked good to you?"

"Yeah, Mom, they said you can have anything. I'd ask for chocolate."

Scully frowned at him and shook her head, saying softly. "She can't have
chocolate," then in a louder voice, "But has anything appealed to you?"

"Not. Not too much. Just tired all the time."

Scully nodded, squeezing her hand. "Yeah, that's okay. We'll get a
dietician in here, see if anything looks good to you, all right?"

"Hmm," she murmured, and her eyes seemed to fix on Scully, looking far
through her as if she wasn't even there.

"Did you have many visitors? I heard from Dr. Aiken that some members of
his church came."

"Oh, oh yes. Yes. Fox, the church. You know the church."

Mulder smiled and pretended to understand, pushing some of his mother's
hair out of her face.

"They came and sat and prayed for me. It was. . .was such a nice thing."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure they want you to feel better."

"I was tired. Told them I was tired. I'm tired, Fox."

"I know, Mom. You'll be better soon."

"I think I'll just sleep forever, Fox. I'm so tired."

Mulder turned his head away quickly, then forced himself to look at her
eyes. Scully noticed that she focused on him, that Mulder seemed to draw
her attention like nothing else could.

"You can sleep, Mom."

"I will, Fox. I think I will. How's school?"

Mulder frowned and glanced to Scully.

She shrugged.

"School, Mom?"

"Oxford. . .terribly cold there. You have a coat."

"I have a coat, Mom. But -"

"And who is this with you? Better manners Fox. Introduce us."

"Mom, this is Dana Scully. You-"

His mother's face grew peeved and she shook his hand angrily. "I know
who Dana is, Fox. Why are you repeating yourself?"

"Mom?"

"Always you repeat yourself, saying things over. Don't you think I hear
you the first time? I come right in and get you when you have a
nightmare, Fox. You know I do. So stop saying it over and over."

Scully pulled on Mulder's hand, indicating that they should leave, her
face troubled by the panic on his.

But he wouldn't let go of it.

"Mom. . .Mom, I know you came and got me when I had bad dreams."

"Then why do you look at me like that?"

"Like what, Mom?"

"Like I haven't been good to you. Why does your wife look at me like
that?"

Mulder turned in surprise to Scully, then back to his mother. She was
jumping around, one moment thinking he was a little kid and the next
understanding that he had a wife.

"She's sad for you, Mom. Nothing else."

"Who?"

"Mom. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I think I'll get some sleep. I'm tired. Fox, I'm tired."

He bit back a cry of grief and nodded, the tears glistening in his eyes.

"I know you are, Mom. You just rest."

She closed her eyes and Mulder let go of her head, backing away with
Scully beside him, furiously pushing down the need in him to cry.

Outside, he slumped against the wall, closing his eyes as a single tear
escaped his control. Scully leaned in close to him and wiped it away.

"I know you don't want to cry over her, Mulder. But perhaps you need to
grieve over everything else that will die when she does."

At her words, he collapsed into her solid warmth, pressing his face to
her shoulder and using the wall to help support his lanky body.

She held him tightly, wanting to hate the woman that would make him hurt
so very bad.
~~~~

She felt Grace run into her legs with a fierce hug that woke her from a
dream-filled sleep.

Reaching down, Scully picked her daughter up, opening her eyes and
smiling at the happy face before her.

"Hey, baby. What have you been doing?"

"Aunt Beth showed me all the babies!"

"Oh. You went to the nursery?"

"Unh-huh. And there was one baby with a blue blanket that had Daddy's
name on the little card."

Scully smiled. "Fox?"

"Yup. Aunt Beth started laughing because Daddy doesn't like his name,
but other people like it. Do you like Daddy's name?"

"Yes. I think it's a good name."

"Then why don't you call him Fox?"

"Because Daddy doesn't really like it."

"But Gramma calls him Fox, and Aunt Beth and Jess."

"Well. . .I've called him Mulder from the very beginning, and it's more
of my name for him that anyone else's."

"Oh. Just like I'm the only one who calls him Daddy?"

Scully smiled and rubbed noses with her, making her smile.

"Yes, like that."

Grace giggled and looked over to where Mulder was dozing, his head ready
to fall off the arm of the chair.

"Daddy looks silly."

Scully glanced to him and laughed. "Yes, he does."

Mulder came awake then, and looked up to see both of them grinning at
him, interesting looks on their faces.

"What are you two doing?"

Grace giggled. "Watching you sleep funny."

He stood and picked her up, holding her high. "You think I sleep funny?"

"Yup," she said, and gave him Scully's taunting look.

Mulder sighed theatrically and pulled her into his embrace.

"I suppose I can't say anything. Everyone's against me."

At Grace's muffled laugh, he tickled her belly, then kissed her.

"Did you have fun with Aunt Beth?"

"We saw babies!"

Scully sat and listened while she repeated the whole story over again,
thinking about death and birth and how everything could be a lesson.

Like no one had much time on this earth, and it was pointless to waste
it hurting over mistakes.

Mulder knew that, and he was trying to forgive his mother, just as
Scully strove each day to truly get over her own hurt in spite of
careless words and unbidden images.

Each day their love was refined.

Each day it was tested in the fire of adversity.
~~~~
~~~~

"Look and see
if there is any sorrow like my sorrow. . ."
--Lamentations 1:12

~~~~

His feet were cold, curled up in the sheets and blankets, seeking some
kind of warmth.

He found her legs with his toes and she jerked with the chill, but moved
closer anyway, pushing her own cold nose into his chest.

He smiled and held her for a moment, until her fingers warmed and his
toes no longer felt numb, then she turned and they tumbled back into
sleep.
~~~~

Scully was sitting on the edge of Grace's bed, tugging on her sleeve to
pull her hand through, and offering one quick jerk to get the shirt over
her head.

Grace was humming and dancing a Barbie along the bed, oblivious to her
mother's attempts to dress her, her sole focus being the imaginary world
inside her own head.

Grace could dress herself, of course, but Scully knew they'd be there
for hours while the girl messed around and played with her toys.

Mulder was shaving, his bare stomach pressed into the sink, his jeans
digging into his waist as he leaned forward to inspect the spots he'd
missed.

"Sit still, Grace," he heard Scully say and eyed them in the mirror.

"Gracie!" He spoke sharply to cut through her fantasy.

She looked up, confused and half dressed, the Barbie dangling from her
figners.

"Pay attention to Momma, Gracie."

Grace nodded and looked to her mother, holding her hands out.

Scully smiled with a sigh and hugged her, then pushed her back onto the
bed, giving her the blue jeans to put on herself.

"I don't want to wear these," she said softly, face frowning. "I want to
wear my green ones."

Scully glanced to the sweater Grace had on, then nodded. "All right.
Quickly, then, Grace."

Grace jumped from the bed and dug around in the suitcase, coming up with
her baggy green pants, with the side pockets that she liked to stick
things in. They had a small blue stain on the right one, from when
Scully had forogtten to check her pockets  before washing them.

Interestingly enough, Mulder usually did the wash, and he had laughed at
them as Grace grew hysterical, and Scully felt awful for ruining them.
But Mulder managed to get most of the stain out, and Grace liked them
even better.

Mulder spoke up from the sink, and Scully turned out of her daze to
catch only the last part.

". . .have to go."

"What?" she said, standing and gathering her make-up into her hands.

"I'm going to finish getting dressed, then we'll have to go."

"Oh. I'll be ready in a second."

He glanced to her, still in a T-shirt, hair wet from her shower, face
clean and shining.

"Right."

She glared at him, then pushed him into the sink. "I will be. You just
wait, mister."

He laughed and began to touch up with his razor.

She glanced over at Grace, then sighed.

"Gracie, put your pants on NOW, sweet."

"I am!"

Scully stalked to her, then grabbed the green pants, pulling her up onto
the messy bed, leaving her Barbie on the floor.

"Let's have a race with Daddy, okay? See if we can be ready before him.
But you have to put your pants on, and your hair brushed and socks and
shoes on."

Grace looked at her father with a gleam in her eyes.

"Daddy has to too!"

"Right, Daddy has to be just as done as you, baby. You ready?"

Grace wriggled excitedly in her arms and nodded enthusiastically.

"All right. Go!"

Grace began struggling out of her pajama bottoms and talking to herself
as she raced around, Mulder looking on with calm and amusement.

"I'm going to beat you, Grace," he said, laughing.

Grace huffed something but ignored him, still trying to work her button
and zipper.

Mulder looked at Scully. "Wish that trick would work for you. Get going,
G-Woman."

She gave him a smirk and pulled her jeans and sweater from the suitcase.

"I'll be ready before either of you."
~~~~

Mulder grumbled and the women gloated as he drove them to the hospital.

"It wasn't fair."

Scully laughed, a sound so beautiful and happy that Mulder resolved to
lose to her more often.

"How'd you get dressed so quickly?"

"All that time you spent trying to shave right, Mulder."

"So?"

"Well, all I had to do was pull on some clothes. I was basically done
anyway. And give Grace enough incentive, and she can do anything."

Grace knocked his head with a Barbie doll and smiled hugely from the
backseat.

"I can do anything!" she yelled, then lowered her voice at a look from
her mother. "Big Bird told me that."

"Oh really, Grace? Birds talk to you?" Mulder looked at her in the rear
view mirror.

Scully rolled her eyes and Grace laughed. "No, Daddy. From Sesame
Street."

Mulder looked genuinely confused and Scully shook her head.

"Mulder, Public television show. She watches it every morning at Mom's."

Mulder nodded and resolved to watch Sesame Street sometime. He ought to
know just what was being taught to his little girl.

"Little guys can do big things too," Grace piped up, hugging his head
rest.

"Gracie, put your seat belt back on," Scully said, looking back at her.

The girl scooted backwards and then slipped back into her seatbelt. She
had not unfastened it, but merely wiggled out of it, thinking her
parents wouldn't know.

"Little guys can do big things too," she whispered, glancing out the
window as the street passed by.

"What was that, Gracie?"

Mulder glanced to Scully as she asked, then took the left hand turn as
the light changed.

She nodded to him.

The lights were positioned differently in New Bedford, and the first
time he had driven, thankfully, he had merely stopped at a green light
and not run a red one. Because he was red-green colorblind, he hadn't
known it was really green.

He thought he had the order of the lights down now, but he always looked
to Scully just to make sure.

As his thoughts came back to the car, he heard Grace singing again,
something about doing big things.

"What is that?" he asked, finding the entrance to the parking level for
the hospital.

"It's a song from Veggie Tales, Daddy! From Dave and the Giant Pickle."

He nodded, although he had no clue, and vaguely remembered her tape on
the plane.

"Do you think your mommy would like for me to sing it to her, Daddy?"

Mulder parked the car and glanced back at her, his face softening as he
took in her earnest expression.

"I'm sure she'd love it, Gracie."

Grace began humming it under her breath and pushed open the door,
twisting her body to try and slip out of the seatbelt again. That had
been fun, and if she got good at it, then she could play in the
floorboard and not have Mommy or Daddy know she was out of the safety
belt.

"Grace, unhook it. Don't let it choke you like that."

Grace sighed at her mother's words and unfastened the belt, then hopped
out of the car, slamming the door as hard as she could because she liked
the hollow noise it made.

Her mother took her hand and she skipped along to the hospital lobby,
shivering in the wind and trying to remember where she last had her
mittens.

Her mother was sure to ask soon.

Mulder opened the door for them and they shuffled inside, sniffing and
shivering to warm up after the brief walk from the car to the building.

Scully led them to the elevators again, Grace trailing behind them, her
hand firmly in Mulder's now, watching the people in the lobby.

Once in the elevator, Grace managed to slide up next to her mother and
push all the floor buttons, laughing in delight until Mulder scolded her
and pulled her back with him.

But it was fun to get to see every floor on their way up, how everyone's
head turned to look at them, and the nurses would either run to get on,
or turn away and look for another car.

She was glad she had pushed all the buttons, even if her father was
angry at her for doing it.

Looking up to her mother, she thought maybe her mother liked looking in
at all the floors too.
~~~~

Midway through her shower, Scully had realized one important thing.

She didn't want to be doing this.

So when Grace pushed all the buttons, she couldn't be properly mad about
it, and the look of curiosity on her daughter's face made up for
Mulder's anxiousness.

Because halfway throug her shower, she had remembered a dream. It had
been strange -- jumping from place to place with none of the characters
ever the same.

First, Bob the Tomato, from Veggie Tales, had sung a song about
forgiveness that only made her cry and when he had finished Grace came
into the room and told her to stop watching videos and start folding
socks.

Right then, she had been in front of her sock drawer, folding thousands
of white socks, all of them mismatched, but she couldn't seem to get the
right pairs together, no matter how hard she tried.

While the sock pile just grew and grew, Mrs. Mulder had strode in,
looking like hell fire and damnation incarnate, and Scully had hid
behind the mountain of socks, shivering.

At that moment, she remembered waking up to Mulder's cold toes on her
leg, and then moving around a bit, and then she had found the dream
again.

Mrs. Mulder was screaming righteous hell at her, saying that she didn't
deserve a man like Mulder, asking over and over "How could you?" and
saying she hated Scully for hurting him.

She had closed her eyes, feeling the tears again, and then she heard her
name.

Opening her eyes, Mulder had stood before her, holding his arms out,
such a wonderful look of love and acceptance on his face that she had
jumped up and run to him, so grateful.

But he had pushed her aside, gone on *past* her, arms outstretched, and
she had turned to look, panic starting in her stomach and making her
hands shake.

Her own mother was there, embracing Mulder and calling him "Fox" like no
one else was allowed to, telling him everything would be all right.

And then she had woken up to Mulder's nudges, telling her to hurry up
and get dressed.

All in all, it had been a very upsetting dream, and she had clutched at
it as she woke, but it had run from her, skirting the edges of memory
until the water of the shower reminded her of her own tears.

She wasn't looking forward to seeing Mrs. Mulder again, not with the
impression of the raging woman still burned deep into her.

The vision of a mother asking her how she could have hurt her baby so
much.

Even though she knew, rationally, that Mrs. Mulder had hurt her husband
far worse than she ever had, and deeper too.

But it still ate at her, made her hold on to Grace tighter as they
rounded the corner, even as her daughter wriggled around to get away.

The door opened and the light from the hall shone in on Mrs. Mulder's
huddled form, with Aunt Beth like the guardian angel sworn to protect
the Garden of Eden with a sword of fire.

Scully held back while Mulder went on through, his face intent upon his
mother, Grace at his side, humming her song so she would not forget at
the last moment.

Aunt Beth turned to her and motioned for them to leave together, let
Mulder have his time with his mother and his little girl.

Scully followed her out in relief.
~~~~
~~~~

"Surely this is the bitterness of death. . .
As your sword has made women childless,
so your mother shall be childless among women."
--1 Samuel 15:32 and 33

~~~~

Scully sat in a more private waiting room than the lobby on the first
floor, Aunt Beth watching her from the corners of her eyes.

"So, tell me what's really going on here," Beth finally said, looking
straight at Scully with flint in her expression.

Scully shifted in her chair and leaned forward, using the face she'd
come to rely on for the telling of an ugly truth.

"They don't think she's going to make it."

Beth's eyes immediately clouded over, but she sat back with a high chin,
mouth pursed and twisting as she tried to clamp down on her tears.

"I thought so," she whispered softly.

Scully didn't know what else to say, and she was too weary to try and
make up some kind of empty platitude to coax her into hopefulness.

"I know you think she's an awful woman," Beth said softly, her voice
coming as a surprise.

Scully sat there, mouth open, shocked.

"I can see it when you look at her, when you watch Fox coddle her. I
know you think she's awful."

Her breath came short and she turned her head, but felt no shame in her
thoughts.

"I do. I think she is awful. But Mulder loves her."

Beth closed her eyes against the painful thoughts swimming in her head.

"You must think us awful too. For seeing what was happening and not
doing anything about it."

Scully frowned. "It really doesn't make a difference now. I can't change
it. I would want to change it if I could. . .but then maybe I wouldn't
be here with Mulder, with what I have. I don't know."

Beth appreciated her honesty and nodded thoughtfully.

"But that doesn't change the fact that we saw her slipping away, saw Fox
getting hurt by it. . ."

"No," Scully answered softly, closing her eyes to tears.

She wasn't going to cry for this woman. Not at all.

"I would like to explain though. For her sake, I'd like to try and
explain. I don't think Fox will ever understand why his mother did what
she did, but maybe you would, being a mother."

Scully's mind supplied her with an image of Grace, in her green pants
and sweater, humming a song to please her father.

"Her baby was gone, Dana. . ."

Scully looked up, saw Beth watching her from behind watery eyes,
latticed windows that showed a myriad of pains and triumphs.

She couldn't accept such a patented response. "Yes. I know that. But she
had him left. She still had him. . ."

"It wasn't enough, Dana. If you ever lost a child, you'd know-"

Scully's eyes snapped red fire, and she felt her breath hiss from her in
undulating waves of radiation-pain.

"I've lost children. . .too many. It took a long long time to have
Grace, a long time and a lot of death. Maybe you didn't know that. But I
have *not* abandoned Grace to my sorrow. *She* did."

Beth's eyes slid shut and shuddered a sigh that somewhere between her
grief and her need to explain, her need to console herself over actions
she did not take.

Scully felt righteous anger swell in her, but she remembered her dream
and bit it down harshly, ignoring the pain swelling through her.

"Maybe you haven't abandoned your little girl. I see that. But the way
you treat her *is* different. Because she survived and others didn't.
You may not completely realize it, but you do."

Beth's entire face was a mask of apology, already asking forgiveness for
her words, knowing she had no right intruding like this, but the need to
make Dana understand overcame everything.

Scully said nothing, her face stone, but inside, she was remembering
Grace choosing to stay with her father, and her own words:

<She's not mine. Not really.>

Scully shuddered. 

The thoughts were in her, they were. She may not believe she treated
Grace any differently, but somewhere in her, that thought stuck, and
rose to the surface when she had been hurt the most.

And if Grace ever heard her mother say that, it would be just as awful a
thing as what Mulder's mother had done to him.

Beth rose, leaving Scully in her misery.
~~~~

After Grace's song had failed to produce even a smile from his mother,
Mulder had tried to comfort his daughter, suceeding only in tears and
hurt.

Aunt Beth had come in, taken her to get some Coke and to talk, and
Mulder now sat alone, wondering where Scully had gone and trying not to
think too much about his mother.

She was asleep now, after the blank stare they'd received as Grace had
sung her little tune, and Mulder was glad.

He didn't know what to say to his mother anymore.

Trying to shut out his mother, he instead remembered one of the
counseling sessions with Karen Kosoff, and the discussion that it
entailed.

She'd been shaking her head, frustrated with his non-answers and
figurative way of speaking.

Noting was ever direct about Mulder, nothing every spoke completely
about him. He hid behind ideals and stereotypes, saying it could be one
thing, or another.

She had blurted out her question, catching him so much by surprise that
he had answered truthfully.

"What did your mother do to you that was so bad?"

He was floored.

Completely and utterly taken away by this question, by her quick
understanding of his hell.

And his words had come straight up from the very dark places within him,
the very places that ached even when a breath of love passed close by.

"She never believed me."

They had sat there, Mulder looking at Karen, Karen looking right back
into him, the words warpped in the air, thick and palpable like cake
batter or melting time.

It was one of the most honest truths he had ever spoken in his life,
aside from his declaration to Scully that he really and truly *did* love
her, that it transcended everything, even truths like this that stared
him in the face and smacked him so hard into forever that he felt
unfixed.

Unfixed in time and unfixed in love.

Staring at his mother now, remembering the ache of that moment, he again
felt unfixed.

There was nothing there to bring him back, no arm to hold him down, no
child to anchor him with her own needs.

He remembered begging his mother to believe him, that look of cold
resignation in her eyes saying to him in every way:

<You lost your sister>

He lost his sister.

His mother believed nothing he said, convinced him he had let bad men
take her, made him feel betrayed by his own body for forgetting.

Even later, coming to her with the ideas that the regression therapy had
brought on, with the hope that she could still be *out there*, his
mother had not believed him.

Had no longer wanted to believe him.

His chance for love, for trust, for belief, had disappeared in a light
and a scream for help.

He'd been running his whole life after that scream, thinking that it was
the only thing that could win his mother's belief in him, win back her
love. 

And what now?

Did it matter so much anymore? Did the actions of years ago make him so
messed up that he could not control his *own* actions?

No.

Just because his mother's un-presence had left a gaping hole in him, did
not mean he had to fill it with porn and obsession, it did not mean he
had to find the worse things in life and feed off them.

No.

"No," he whispered.

No more subconsciously disobeying and flaunting his bad behavior in a
sick attempt to show that he did not *need* his mother's favor.

No more.

He had his life. He had his *own* life.

He did not need the ties of the old one.

A sudden gasp from the hospital bed made him stand, instantly alert,
instantly regretting such awful thoughts.

But she was merely dreaming.

He sat back down, sickened.

Spur of the moment convictions did nothing to improve lifetime habits.

Where was Scully?

He needed her again.
~~~~

The long hall was painted in a soft blue that made the light seem dim
and the corridor stretch forever.

The whole floor was warmed above normal temperature, and the glass panel
before Scully showed the faint reflections of mothers who had stood here
before, awed.

The nursery.

She remembered that feeling.

Standing there looking at the baby that had come from her, mixed in with
all the others, yet somehow more vibrant, more shining and alive than
any baby she'd ever seen.

Grace.

Her name said everything, spoke of all the miracles and all the prayers
and all the former pain and hurt and love that life had brought about in
her making.

Scully's fingers eased down the glass, smoothing her reflection, one
fingernail white and rounded as it came directly into her line of sight
with one of the newborn's pink faces.

She slid her finger to the side on the glass, and the face was obscured
by her own flesh, then she moved it away and there was the baby.

So easy to do, so hard to start.

Other women would say it differently. 

They would laugh and say it was an accident, and the hard part was the
pushing, the being tired, the contractions, the breaths.

Scully would shake her head and feel the bitterness in her rise against
them, and she would say no, no, pushing is the easy part.

Making her was the most ultimate of sacrifices, the most precious of
memories, the most horrid of years.

Leaning her head against the glass of the nursery, Scully gave a
startled breath.

After all that, why did she feel this way?

Beth had merely called attention to a thought, an image or idea or view,
that had already been growing inside her, slower and heavier than Grace
had been, but more deadly and more consuming.

Grace wasn't hers, not really.

Why had she said that? Why had it come from her?, with even the barest
chance that Grace could choose that moment to walk down the stairs, come
in the front door, hear. . .hear such a thing.

She sighed in a tremor that was almost a sob.

She loved her baby girl, loved her more than she had ever known love to
be. She would not abandon her, would not leave her, would not hurt her
the way Mulder had been hurt.

Yet she wondered, looking in at the rows of newborns, their faces
screwed up in protest of the new surroundings, or slack and sweet as
they slept.

She wondered.

If God had given her a child of her own, if He had touched her just as
he did Abraham's wife, Sarah, just as he did Isaac's wife, Rebekah, and
so many others stretching the span of Bible years. . . 

If God had touched Mulder's wife, Scully. . .

would her love of Grace be any less?

In her nightmares, she knew a version of the answer.

And she thanked God for not giving her that touch.
~~~~

Mulder stood up restlessly, ignoring Beth's eyes on him as he grew more
and more worried.

"Where did you last see her?"

"In the waiting room, Fox. I told you that."

Mulder shook his head and glanced to his sleeping mother. She was still
oblivious to their presence, still blind to the hurt she'd inflicted on
his life and his daughter's.

Grace was in a chair, playing with her Barbie and happily ignorant of
Mulder's concern for her mother.

"I'm going to go roam around. See if I can find her. If she comes back
here, tell her to wait for me."

As he left, he realized she probably *wouldn't* wait for him, but that
was to be expected.
~~~~

The elevator pinged once and sort of choked, making Mulder hastily step
off of it, wild images of plunging to his death called up by its feeble
noise.

He found himself by the Maternity ward, strategically placed directly
next to Oncology. He found himself berating the hospital planners, the
people who had thought to themselves, let's put the ones going out of
this world right next to those coming into it.

There's a depressing thought.

He pushed through the crowd at the elevators, carefully avoiding those
sick and frail ones who reminded him all too much of Scully, and stopped
before the double doors of Oncology.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way in, wondering why he was being
drawn to such a place.

Wondering why *Scully* might be drawn to such a place.
~~~~

She was just sitting there, thinking of Grace, her jeans damp from where
she had rubbed her sweaty palms into her thighs.

She couldn't think of a good reason to leave, or a better one to stay,
and she had lost track of time, staring in at the babies.

That's when she saw Mulder, stepping off the elevator like he thought it
would swallow him up, and then making his way through the crowd.

She felt a wild sense of hope thrill through her, but her turned right,
instead of left, and walked through the Oncology doors.

Death and Cancer.

She felt the same sickness overtake her, knowing that he expected to
find her there, at death and cancer's threshold rather than birth and
babies.

But it didn't quite hurt like she thought.

Instead, it made her smile.

He was worried about her, knowing that things were rocky between them at
times, knowing that sometimes life could be just too much.

She made a move to rise, but then didn't.

She couldn't seem to find the energy in her to go through those doors,
to see the faces of the women she had once resembled, to walk through
the halls that screamed dying hope.

Maybe Mulder would find her here.

And then they could go home.
~~~~
~~~~

"i am accused of tending to the past
as if i made it,
as if i sculpted it
with my own hands. i did not.
this past was waiting for me
when i came,
a monstrous unamed baby,
and i with my mother's itch
took it to breast
and named it. . ."
--From the book of poetry "Quilting" by Lucille Clifton

~~~~

His first step into Oncology felt like a brick wall slamming into him.

Or maybe just *him* running into a brick wall.

He backpedalled out of there, knocking into a feeble woman who merely
smiled at him as he apologized, then pushed him lightly to the door.

As he came out in a flurry of cowardice and gravity, he saw the doors to
Maternity swing open, and a couple walk out, and the hallway behind them
was soft and dark.

And holding Scully in its depths.

He slipped inside, careful not to run into any more people, his eyes
solely on her, watching her sigh on the bench, eyes shut.

"Scully?"

When her eyes opened and saw him, she smiled, and patted the seat next
to her.

"Scully. . ."

"Just sit here for a moment, Mulder. Sit and listen."

He watched her eyes close again, and her body relax into him, cheek
pressed to his shoulder. The place around them seemed to slow and divide
into a separate world, a place they could look at, but not touch.

He felt the same sensation, of being unfixed in time.

But he felt firmly planted in love, firmly rooted in all that was Dana
Scully.

A kind of sobbing breath stole from her and he saw her tears like thiefs
stealing down her cheeks, robbing her of her grief.

He kissed her nose and closed his own eyes.

He heard no noises: no nurses in the hall, no pages over the intercom,
no excited talk of women and men.

Instead, he breathed in and heard whispers. Heard laughter that was to
be, heard the entire future of a small infant wrapped tightly in a
colored blanket, all within that moment he came unfixed.

It was joy. . .

a breath,

and life

a whisper,

and forever

a smile,

and eternity. . .

right there in that moment.

. . .


. . .


. . .


Scully was tracing his hand with her fingers when he found himself
again, her eyes soft and smiling, although her mouth was turned down.

"That was what I needed," she said.

He nodded, but didn't know if that moment had really happened, or if he
had fallen asleep, or if she had merely sat beside him and let go of the
past.

He wondered if he had let go of the past too.
~~~~

When Grace learned of where her mother had been all that time, she
wanted to go up and see the babies again, and she begged and pleaded for
so long that Mulder finally gave in.

So they all took the elevator to the seventh floor, Grace'e eyes not
even straying to the Oncology ward, where a whole battle for life had
played out  long before any attempts to have her were even formed.

Scully held her up so she could see the babies, and Grace's eyes went
wide and she made silly faces at them, naming them to herself and
pretending that they would all come home with them.

Mulder smiled as he watched her fog up the window with her breath, and
laughed when she almost fell out of Scully's arms trying to see better.
He then took her and perched her higher up, letting her see more of the
room than she could at Scully's height.

He wondered what it said of him, that he spent more time looking at the
newborns than he did his own dying mother, but he really couldn't find
much guilt in him to be sad.

Scully went over to the Coke machine and got them all soda, despite her
admonition to Grace not to expect carbonated drinks all the time.

Grace knew her father would buy them for her anyway.

As they drank Dr. Pepper and laughed, it reminded Grace of a Pepsi
commercial and Mulder and Scully tried to remember what she was talking
about while the babies woke up or fell asleep or cried.

And Scully thought to herself that maybe she was fine.

Maybe she really and truly, at last, was perfectly fine.

<I'm fine, Mulder>

It could finally be true.

That made her laugh.
~~~~

Mulder frowned and put out a hand to stop Grace from running around the
room, making loud noises as she pretended to fly a spaceship.

Dr. Pepper at six o'clock wasn't a good idea.

He gave her a meaningful look and nodded to where his mother slept, and
then let her go.

She looked properly chastised, and then proceeded to whisper her noises
and screach with minimal decibel level, and yet somehow, still be
incredibly annoying with it.

He marvelled at it, then stopped her again and placed her in the chair
next to him, ignoring her frown and pout.

Scully was out like a light, her entire body so relaxed it made him
envious, and he watched her sleep with half his mind, the other
preoccupied with keeping Grace in the chair.

Scully had curled up in one of the softer chairs, so small that she
could fit right into it, her head on the arm and her entire body in the
seat.

Mulder laughed to himself, knowing she'd be so sore when she woke up.

Grace tapped his leg and scooted forward.

"Daddy, when's my birthday?"

"After Christmas, Gracie."

She nodded and counted on her fingers.

"I'm gonna be five."

"That's right. Five."

"Five is a special age, right, Daddy?"

"That's right."

Mulder pulled her from the chair and into his lap, tucking his arms
around her and settling back.

She pushed up against his chest, leaning back so she could see him.

"How is it special, Daddy?"

"Well. . .you get to go to school."

"And I get a TV. . .right Daddy?"

"That's right. You're old enough to have a TV in your room. And. . ."

"And I can go across the monkey bars at the playground!"

Mulder nodded seriously, keeping his face a mask as she was so clearly
thrilled by the idea of going all the way across the monkey bars at the
preschool she attended Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"And I get to go to School!"

"We said that already, but yes. You get to go to school every day."

Her face turned remote and she leaned back into his chest, playing with
the hair on her Barbie.

"What if I don't like having school every day?"

"Oh, you'll like it, Gracie. All your friends will be there too."

"What comes after that?"

"First grade."

"What if I don't like first grade?" she said and pushed up again to see
him.

"If you don't like first grade, I'll . . . I'll make you go anyway."

"Daddy!" she wailed and opened her mouth in shock.

"I'll make you go."

"No! Don't make me go if I don't like it!"

Mulder rolled his eyes and grabbed her hands, squeezing them
reassuringly.

"Baby, you know how you used to not like green beans, but I kept making
you eat them? Until one day you actually said you now like green beans?"

"I used to not like green beans?!" she said, her voice dramatic and
stunned, as if the concept were inconceivable.

"Right. You used to not like them. But I made you eat them. And now you
do. Well, if you don't like school at first, I'll make you go anyway,
and soon, you'll like it."

"Did Mommy go to school?"

"Yes, Mommy went to school."

Grace paused to think about this for a moment, digesting this new
horibble idea: that she could be made to go to school even if she didn't
like it.

"Mommy. . .did she like school?"

"Yes, Mommy liked school so much that she went to college, and even went
more than she had to."

"How much  more?"

"A few years more. She was a doctor, you remember?"

"A doctor."

"And then she changed to be in the FBI, like Daddy."

"Did you like school?" she asked.

Mulder stopped for a moment, wondering what was more important here, a
small little lie that might give her confidence, or the truth that could
damage her thinking forever.

"Yes, baby. I liked school."

He sighed with the lie and gave her a soft smile.

"You went extra too."

"That's right," he said, a bit surprised she knew this already.

"You went long time and then some more to a place in another country."

Mulder stared at her. "How'd you know that, Grace?"

She smiled angelically at him and shrugged. "I don't know."

He stopped trying to figure it out and simply shook his head.

"All right. You feeling better about school?"

"Yes. Five's a special age. And my birthday's right after Christmas."

"That's right."

"Will I get presents both days?" Her question sounded like she had just
realized what her birthday meant.

"Yes, you sure will."

"Will Santa bring me presents for my birthday too?"

Mulder shrugged and rubbed his chin.

"Ah, sure. He might."

"Wow. Special presents from Santa for my birthday!"

He groaned.

Maybe that hadn't been the right answer.

Scully woke just as Grace wiggled down from his lap, and her sleepy eyes
opened to his apologetic ones.

She yawned and sat up.

"What did you do?" she whispered, her voice gravelly and hoarse from
sleep and cold.

"I. . .I told Grace that Santa was going to bring her presents for her
birthday."

Scully sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm assuming you had the whole, five
is a special birthday talk?"

"Yeah. You know, I just want her to be excited about school, because
personally, I'm dreading it."

"Mulder, most normal people *are* excited about school. At least, until
about fifth grade. Then the newness wears off."

"So what are we going to do about Santa?"

"Maybe we can say that he only comes every five years, for the special
birthdays, and pray that she stops believing in Santa by ten."

Mulder's mouth dropped open.

"Scully!"

"Mulder, *you* got us into this."

He frowned. "I've  never had Santa before. I don't know what's going on
with some fat guy in a red suit."

Scully straightened up, moving her sore muscles in all directions, a
look of pain on her face.

He wasn't sure if it was because of the cramped muscles, or his mistake.

"Well, it'll work out. No problem. I told her that Santa didn't come for
birthdays because he was too busy, however. . ."

"Wait. She. . .you had this conversation already?"

Scully glanced over at him, eyebrow raised.

"Yes."

"Is that how she knew I went to England?"

Scully laughed, causing Grace to turn and look at them from her position
by the bed.

"What did she say to you Mulder?"

"That she didn't know if she would like school."

Scully's face went stricken and she raised up a bit. "Oh no. What did
you say when she asked what you would do if she didn't like school?"

Mulder smiled, glad he had this one right. "That I'd make her go
anyway."

Scully slumped back into the seat, then leaned over and kissed his
cheek.

"Bless your sudden fit of commonsense. I was afraid you'd tell her that
Santa would come rescue her."

Mulder frowned and shook his head. "That's not funny. I even told her I
*liked* school, so there."

Scully grew red and ducked her head, then turned away, as if the
conversation were over.

He grabbed her by the arm. "Why? What did you say?"

She was pulled down into his lap and she sat there for a moment. "I told
her that you didn't like school too much."

Mulder laughed. "We need to come up with a good story and stick to it,
Scully. She'll have us figured out in no time."

Scully smiled. "I think she already has."
~~~~

The motel felt chilly when they got in and Mulder turned to pull off his
coat, attempting to adjust the heater a bit.

Scully shivered and moved Grace into the bathroom to pull her clothes
off, getting her ready for a bath and then bedtime.

While the water ran, he couldn't hear what they were saying, but he got
the general idea that she was asking about Santa again.

He shook his head and untied his boots, then yanked them off, taking his
socks with them. Then his sweater went over his head and he stripped of
his jeans too.

Pulling on some old grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt, he headed
towards the bathroom to help with Grace's bath.

Scully was finding the right temperature when he came in, Grace naked
and jumping up and down while she yelled some song about Santa that he
was fairly sure she was making up.

He laughed at her and she punched him in the leg, frowning.

"Don't take after your mother, Gracie," he said, shaking a finger at her
bewildered look.

Scully reached over and flicked water in his face, making him gasp.

Grace laughed, but then shrieked when Scully got her too, blinking her
eyes to clear them of water.

Shutting off the faucet, Scully turned around to see Grace pushing at
Mulder, trying to get him to fall in the water.

"Grace. Stop pushing Daddy."

"But we're playing. Right Daddy?"

Mulder glanced to Scully and quickly grabbed Grace, making her stop.

"Let's get you in the bath," he said and lifted her over the side.

Her toes touched the water and she howled, drawing up into a ball in his
arms, tears forming in her eyes.

"Too hot!" she bawled and Mulder pulled her out, confused.

Scully's face was white, her hands shaking as she watched Grace cry. She
felt mortified as Mulder turned to look at her, his face accusing.

She stuck her hand in the water and grew furious.

"Grace!"

Grace's tears stopped on command at her mother's voice.

"This water is NOT too hot. Now, stop playing around and get in the
bath!"

Mulder frowned and stuck his finger in the water, and upon feeling the
lukewarm temperature, his own face clouded to match Dana's.

"Grace Amanda Mulder! Do *not* play games with us about something like
this. We need the truth from you so that we can tell when you're really
in trouble."

"It's too hot!" she said, and crossed her arms, fuming.

"Grace."

"It *is*!"

Scully's tongue ran over her teeth as she counted slowly to herself.

"Get in the bath, Grace."

Mulder picked her up again but she bucked and kicked out, managing to
connect solidly with Mulder's already bruised jaw.

The intensity of the pain made him drop her, and Scully watched in
horror filled slow motion as she fell, her head smacking the side of the
tub with such force that everything fell silent for one brief, agonizing
second.

Then Grace was crying, and Mulder was crying, and Scully was trying to
pick her up and hold her and mother her, while also trying to make sure
she wasn't broken or bleeding, and Mulder kept pushing to comfort her
and Grace cried harder as they bumped heads.

"It's okay, baby. It's all right. You're okay."

Grace sobbed and Scully felt around on the back of her head, coming up
with a good sized knot, causing Grace to screech with her tears as
Mulder hung back, afraid.

"You're okay. You're okay."

Scully made eye contact with Mulder, letting him know that everything
was fine, nothing was his fault, while she stood and carried Grace to
the bedroom.

It was still cold, and Grace began shivering, so Mulder came and wrapped
his arms around her while Scully cleaned the small amount of blood away,
then held an ice pack to her head.

"You're okay, Grace," she said again, coming to kneel before her on the
bed.

Grace snuffled and pushed away the tears.

"But baby, you can't kick like that when we're holding you, because you
could fall. We can't hold onto you when you're wriggling around like a
little bug," she said softly, smiling.

Grace smiled and then pouted. "I don't want to take a bath. . ."

"Grace. Mommies and Daddies know better for their little girls. You need
to take a bath, and when we're trying to hold you, it's very important
that you don't kick."

Scully clasped her hands together and kissed them softly, still smiling.

Grace looked up to her father and her mouth turned down again.

"I'm sorry I kicked you Daddy."

"You surprised me Gracie. I'm sorry I dropped you."

Grace raised her hand and felt for her bump. "I got a hurt head."

Scully smile. "Thankfully, that's all. But Grace, remember. It's not
Daddy's fault you fell, is it?"

Grace shook her head slowly and lowered her voice. "I was acting like a
bug. . .I shouldn't have kicked."

"That's right, baby." Scully leaned over and kissed her forehead. "But
you're okay now, right?"

"Right. . .Am I still going to have a bath?"

Scully looked her in the eye. "What do you think?"

"No?"

Giving her a playful nudge, Scully narrowed her eyes, pulling Grace into
her arms and carrying her back to the bathroom.

Mulder stayed on the bed, deciding it was best not to go near the
bathroom when Grace was in it.

He felt pretty miserable.

He was good at messing up things.

The most precious things in the world to him, and already he had
endangered both of them almost within the same month.

He was lucky Scully was even here, let alone that Grace didn't hate him
forever for dropping her. . .

Sighing, he laid back on the bed, closing his eyes.

His jaw ached terribly.
~~~~
~~~~

"When I look your way, turn your eyes astray
Cause I should know better by now."
--"God Makes The Rain" Cowboy Mouth

~~~~

Grace's mouth was set, her pout firm, and Scully sighed, giving up.

Walking out of the bathroom, keeping an eye out for more accidents, she
motioned for Mulder to relieve her.

Rubbing his jaw, he winced, looking up at her in question.

"She wants you to give her a bath," Scully said, focusing on his eyes as
she spoke so that she couldn't feel too much.

He nodded and moved into the bathroom to take over, letting Scully move
to his place, sinking into the bed.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her lids, waiting until the
blackness was exploding with chemical fireworks before relaxing.

The small things were what hurt the most.

That was it.

Maybe seeing Diana in the hallway shocked her a bit, and the tiny
thoughts that crept in during the night. . .yes, those all shook her.

But what actually hurt, what caused her to breathe knives in her lungs,
were the little actions that pushed her away more and more.

Grace choosing to stay with her father, asking for him continuously when
they were separated, paying attention when he spoke, doing what Mulder
said and ignoring her.

Asking to have him give her a bath.

Those were the things.

She turned over on the bed, pushed her face into the pillow, letting its
cool touch soak up her tears.

She knew it was selfish, knew that wanting her little girl to love her
more was probably wrong, but it didn't stop the feelings.

If she would only love her mother equally. . . even that would be
better.

Stiffling another cry, she pressed her lips together and stood, pulling
off her clothes and snuggling into a T-shirt and boxers. It reminded her
of earlier that morning, trying to get Grace to simply stay still so she
could dress her. The only thing that had worked was involving Mulder, a
race, his voice telling her to hurry up.

Brushing her hair angrily, she tried to get rid of the thoughts, wishing
for that moment of peace she'd found in the nursery.

This isn't right, she thought. 

Grace was hers. . .hers.

So why did she feel like the evil stepmother?
~~~~

Mulder laughed and pulled Grace from the water, careful to keep a firm
hold on her slippery wet body.

"Daddy, can I sleep with you?"

Mulder rubbed the towel over her face, making her giggle, and then
attempted to dry off the rest of her.

"No, baby. You need to sleep in your own bed."

"But I want to sleep with you."

"Grace."

The little girl closed her mouth, pouting, her little lip turned in a
way that reminded him of Scully.

She was trying to be serious, but he laughed at her face and she grew
indignant, pushing him.

That kind of surprised him and he sat back on his heels, looking at her.

"Grace. . ."

She had her mouth resolutely clamped, the towel wrapped around her
tightly.

He sighed. "I think someone's tired."

Grace said nothing, but let him lead her to the room, her chin held high
and her towel pulled around her like a queen's robe.

Mulder looked to the bed and saw Scully already asleep, curled on her
side on top of the covers.

"Okay, Grace. Let's be quiet for Mommy."

Grace made a face at him and he frowned, pulling her pajamas from the
floor.

Grace threw them to the side and shook her head.

"Mommy gives me new pajamas!"

"Baby, quiet." he said, and looked at her sternly.

"Hey, Daddy! Let's jump on the bed and wake Mommy up!"

Mulder was a little slow, but he managed to catch her right before she
could topple over Scully, grabbing her up as she squealed, his face a
mask of barely controlled fury.

Scully woke and sat up, her eyes wide with something that he sinkingly
recognized as fear.

"Sorry, Scully. She's a little nuts tonight," he explained, pulling
Grace back to the suitcases.

Scully nodded and sat there, watching him hold her down to get her pants
on, then the way Grace sort of melted into his arms, her head lolling
against his arm as he pulled her shirt on.

Grace was halfway asleep when he tucked her in bed, kissing her good
night and then turning off the light.

In the darkness, Scully stood and reached out, her fingers touching
Grace's hair. She bent down to kiss her and the girl turned away in her
sleep.

Closing her eyes, she straightened up, pushing away the rising grief
with her own weariness.

Mulder's arm caught her before she managed to turn away and she sank
gratefully into the bed with him, shutting  down her mind to the
thoughts spiralling around in her.

"Good night, Scully."

She felt the softness of his lips along her collarbone and she sighed,
touching his forehead.

"Night, Mulder."

The room lit suddenly from a car's headlights, allowing Mulder to see
her tears, but he said nothing, merely kissed them away and closed his
eyes.

She felt grateful for his silence and lay there, trying to figure out
when everything had gone so wrong.
~~~~

She heard something from far away, and as it drew nearer, she jerked up,
awake immediately.

The phone.

Mulder was cradling it in one of his large hands, nodding and talking
softly, his face a mask of grim pain.

She slid closer, resting against his back and cirlcing him with her
arms.

It was something bad, she knew. 

His mother.

He hung up and sat there for a moment, breathing softly in the late
night heaviness of half sleep and half dreams.

"She's not doing very well."

Scully nodded softly, closing her eyes to the gamut of pain and sorrow
and exceptional grief ranging across his face.

"They don't think she'll make it through the night."

Scully let out a sigh and pressed her lips into his shoulder, her tears
only making it worse.

He turned and hugged her fiercely, as if he were holding on to her for
dear life, his face pushed roughly into her neck.

"You stay here, Scully. I'd. . .I'd like to be alone. . ."

She nodded, even though his admission hurt, and kissed his temple.

"I don't want Grace watching her die, either."

She nodded again, and watched him stand, moving away from the safety of
her arms with an air of reluctance.

She felt cold in the sudden chill and pulled the covers up to her lap,
her eyes steadily on him.

Mulder moved around the dark room with a kind of grace that spoke of
doing things like this a lot, a creature of the night who felt best
suited to the low light conditions.

He pulled his sweatpants off and yanked on some jeans, then ran his
fingers through his hair, sighing. His socks and shoes were pulled on
quietly, his back to her.

Grabbing his leather jacket, he turned to her, and their eyes locked.

For just an instant, they stood there, trapped in each other's gaze, so
much said and unsaid that when he finally moved away, she felt bruised.

"Mulder!"

He turned, glanced to her once and lowered his head, looking at his
shoes.

"Be careful," she whispered, for some reason dreading this separation.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her softly.

"I'll be all right," he said, his lips moving along her skin as he
spoke.

She nodded and he opened the motel door, grabbing one of the keys from
the table.

Before she could even blink, the door was shut and the motel room
plunged into darkness again.

She listened intently and heard the car start, listened to the crunch of
the tires against the asphalt, then the whispers of the engine moving
away.

Feeling desolate, she looked to the other bed, finding Grace still
asleep, her face soft in the slivers of light that came from a rip in
the curtains.

Scully lay back down, sure she wouldn't fall asleep now, but it came and
dragged her down anyway.

She had convoluted dreams about Samantha and Diana and Grace, and
nothing made any sense.
~~~~
~~~~

"A mother's hardest to forgive;
Life's the fruit she longs to hand you
Ripe on a plate, and while you live
Relentlessly she understands you."
--"The Adversary" Phyllis ?

~~~~

She groaned as the fist rammed into her, shattering her dreams into a
million pieces.

Her eyes opened and she saw that it was not fist, but a tiny girl,
jumping up and down on the bed, her knee the culprit.

"Gracie, stop jumping."

She closed her eyes again, knowing full well that Grace would not
listen, and feeling too tired to enforce her words.

But when she got a foot in her side, she sprang up, angry.

"Grace! Stop it now!"

Grace paused mid-jump, collapsing into the bed with a stricken look,
sitting there still and tense.

Scully shook her head and glanced to the clock, wishing for more time.

It was already ten o'clock.

Scully sank back down into the bed, pulling Grace to her, giving her a
rough hug meant to say she was sorry for losing her temper.

Grace shied away and pouted at the end of the bed.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's gone to the hospital, baby."

"I want to see Daddy."

Scully counted to herself, taking the time to pull a shaking hand
through her tangled hair.

"Can't. He's got the car."

"But I want to see my Daddy!"

Scully turned to her, eyes ice cold, so completely hurt and confused
that she wasn't sure even what she said.

Something like no.

Grace's eyes drew tears, but Scully wasn't getting sucked into that one
again, and she ignored her tantrum and stepped to the bathroom.

"When I get out of the shower, you'd better be dressed."

As she turned on the water, she could feel her rage slip away, swirl
down around the tub, and slide down the drain.

She paused, then turned back to say she was sorry.

Grace was sticking her tongue out at her, making faces.

She quickly stopped when she saw her mother was watching and hid behind
the bed.

Scully thought better of apologizing and slammed the door.
~~~~

In the hot spray of water, Scully rubbed her hair furiously, trying to
work out all the anger and grief on herself, so things like that morning
wouldn't happen again.

She was already worried about Mulder and the added stress of trying to
forget how alienated she felt from her own daughter was more than she
wanted to handle today.

The soap stung her eyes and she gasped, closing her eyes tight, pressing
her fist into her sockets, the tears sliding gracefully into the tub.

She stuck her head under the water and blinked a few times, withstanding
the searing pain for brief moments until the soap was gone.

Breathing irregularly, she sank against the tiles, eyes closed.

There was just too much battling through their lives: his mother and her
coldness, his Aunt Beth's rationalizing that struck too similiar a cord
in her, her own sick feeling whenever she really started thinking, and
Grace's lashing out.

She tried to understand it, tried to figure out a reason for her
daughter's cranky and sensitive behavior.

Their problems had to be affecting her, the fights and long absences,
the times apart from either parent. . .it all had to be making her feel
insecure, off balanced.

Maybe that was why she lashed out. Why her eyes seemed to regard Scully
coldly, why her hands never reached for her mother anymore.

Scully felt her knees give way and she sat down heavily in the tub,
crying.

Grace blamed her. . .that was it. 

That was why all of this had happened.

Grace blamed her for moving out, for disrupting her family. . .

Grace thought it was her fault.

She heard the door crack open and felt the cool breeze come sliding
through  her shower, inching along her skin.

She shivered and stood hastily, rubbing her eyes.

Grace's face peeked through the curtain and she glanced up at her
mother, her lips downturned.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah baby?"

Grace seemed to pause, to gather her courage maybe, and she squinted up
through the growing mist to see her mother.

"Can I take a shower too?"

Scully pushed her wet hair from her face and smiled happily, sinking
down to Grace's level.

"Sure darling. Take your jammies off, and then get in."

Grace's face lit up and she pushed the curtain back, then shut the door.

Scully felt whole again.

Strange, how one moment she felt like nothing would ever be right, and
now, how she felt as if she'd been given the best gift ever.

A little girl.

Grace loved to take showers, thinking it was grown-up. She had taken
showers with Scully from when she was a baby, her mother finding it
easier to handle when it was just them, alone in the house.

As the little girl slid over the side, she laughed, clinging to her
mother's legs and letting the water hit her face.

"Is it too hot, baby?"

Grace smiled and shook her head, then followed Scully's movements as she
finished shampooing her hair.

The spray was hitting her right in the face, no matter where she moved,
so Scully reached up and repositioned the nozzle, making it jet off to
the side, soaking the tiles rather than their bodies.

She sat down next to Grace in the tub and squeezed the baby shampoo into
her hands.

Grace went very still and let her mother shampoo her hair in a gentle
rhythm, eyes closed to keep the soap out.

Then Scully backed her just under the weakest part of the spray, the
water misting down and rinsing her hair.

When it was done, Grace laughed and hugged her hard, trying to catch the
water with her fingers.

"Tell me about when I was a baby," Grace said, sitting down again as
Scully lathered her legs to shave.

"When you were a baby."

"In the shower. Tell me that story."

It was something she never got tired of hearing, all 'her' stories, ones
that were really very simple, but she always laughed and smiled.

"Daddy was in Maine. . ."

Grace spoke up, cutting in. "In Augusta."

Scully smiled and didn't add that he was actually in Fort Western,
sticking his nose is where it didn't belong.

"Right, Augusta. And Mommy had to go to the airport to pick him up, but
I couldn't find anyone to look after you."

"Cause Gramma was out of town."

Scully nodded again and tapped her nose.

"That's right. You were a little baby. It was early, early, about one
o'clock, and I had to go get Daddy. But I had to take a shower first and
get both of us dressed and get down there very quickly."

Grace's smile was huge and she said nothing, caught up in the story.

"So, I thought it would be faster to bring your little baby seat in the
shower with me, and set you in it. Our shower is pretty wide, and so you
were out of the spray of water, and I could still watch you."

Grace grabbed for the bar of soap and squished it around in her hands,
making the white sudsy foam bubble over her fingers.

"But I liked the water, right Mommy?"

"That's right. You laughed when the water accidentally sprayed you, and
I ended spending about an hour in the shower, with you playing in the
water."

Grace's smiled widened, her eyes bright and wet hair curving around her
face like a Superman curl.

"And we made Daddy wait at the airport for a long time. . ."

Scully nodded and grabbed for the soap, making it spurt out between
their hands and crash to the tub.

Grace held out her soapy hands and smeared it on Scully's arms,
giggling.

"Then what happened, Mommy?"

"Well, when we got there, my hair was all wet and tangled because of the
wind and you were still laughing, with your bright red hair like a
thicket on top-"

"But it wasn't wet-"

"It wasn't wet. And Daddy looked at us for a long time before he said
anything, and then he said-"

"I'm glad you found the time to come and get me," Grace quoted, pitching
her voice low and trying to keep from laughing.

"That's right. And he wasn't mad. . ."

"Not at all."

Scully watched her daughter finish the story, inhaling the scent of baby
shampoo and soap and water and skin.

She wanted to laugh, with as much delight as the baby Grace had done
upon first discovering water. 

"Let's get dressed, huh, Gracie?"

"Are we going to pick up Daddy, now?"

Scully frowned, her eyebrows twisting together as Grace glanced up at
her, the happy moment gone.

"No, baby. Daddy's got the car. He's going to come to us."

"Oh. . .let's get dressed then."

Scully reached out and shut off the water, pulling aside the curtain and
stepping out.

She leaned over and attempted to pick Grace up, but the little girl
swiped at her hands.

"I can do it myself," she said, and proceeded to climb over.

Scully put it all out of her head, dismissed her behavior as latent fear
over her and Mulder's recent problems, and grabbed a towel.

She dried herself off and then handed it to Grace, leaving her there in
the bathroom to 'do it herself' while she got dressed.

Scully bit on her lip and finger-combed her hair, then pulled it up out
of her way with a rubber band. She glanced in the mirror, trying to
recall the images of the long ago story she'd been telling Grace, the
idle worry that had shot through her happiness.

Mulder had been stupid, sneaking around Fort Western on a lame hunch,
but he wouldn't wait for her mother to come back so they could go
together. No, he'd had to run off by himself and tackle it all.

His call had been breathless, startling, making her feel panicked and
confused.

But that hour watching Grace smile in the shower, soaking in the sense
of life and love she gave. . . it had calmed her, given her the
confidence she needed to go face the fruits of Mulder's stupid
decisions.

Grace loved the story not because they'd taken a shower, but more
because they'd been on their way to pick up Mulder, because she had
gotten to do something big and grown-up before seeing her father.

Pressing her lips together, she heaved in a breath and expelled it
slowly, trying to let the air take away her posionous thoughts.

She grabbed some underwear and pulled it on, walking around trying to
find her clothes and Grace's, then pulling on some jeans she had worn
the other day because, for some reason, none of her clothes were clean.

There was a stain on the knee from where Grace had run off in the
hospital and collided with a lunch tray, Scully right behind her trying
to reign her in.

She smiled at the thought, even though at the time it'd been annoying
and embarassing, and pulled a cotton shirt on over her head, ignoring
the radio's warnings of mild rain and freezing windchill.

As she moved back to the sink, she suddenly remembered.

Grace.

"Grace?"

Silence.

The panic started in her chest before she'd even had time to finish
looking in the bathroom, the towel still sitting in a damp pile on the
floor, wet foot prints ending at the carpet.

"Grace?"

Not behind the shower curtain.

She ran from the bathroom, eyes flitting rapidly over the empty beds,
the lone table, the door.

The door.

Woudn't she have heard the door open? Wouldn't she have known?

Scully dashed towards it anyway, her mind berating her for being so
involved in her own problems that she had let Grace wander off.

Yanking open the door, her face a tight twist of indescribable fear,
Scully stopped dead still.

Parking lot, long corridor of doors, the stairs, the pool.

"Grace!" she screamed, and dashed for the stairs, heart pounding in her
head, blood running so quick she couldn't catch her breath.

Oh God, not the pool.

Oh God, not my baby. . .

It was foggy outside, and the sun couldn't be seen, only greyness and
murky gloom that caught her in a web of sickness.

She felt her stomach lurching, listened for splashes, for Grace
screaming, for anything.

"Gracie!"

Her heart choked her throat and she ran ahead, slamming full force into
the wire fence surrounding the pool, managing to shred through her shirt
and clip her jeans.

Grunting, she pulled at the gate until it swung open, and Scully
realized with a sick feeling that it was easy to open, easy enough for a
four year old running from her mother.

She bent carefully at the edge of the pool, straining to see in, but the
gloom and fog turned in on her like the Red Sea swallowing up Egypt's
army.

Trying to keep from sobbing, Scully ran back to the gate, through the
long stretch of parking lot, then dashed back up the stairs.

She would call the manager, get him out there to shine some lights on
the place, or help her look, or something.

She needed help.

Oh God, not Grace. . .

She sprinted into the room and tripped over the doorframe, managing to
catch herself on the bed, and then she stumbled to the phone.

Glancing down to the nightstand, her fingers trembling as she started
dialing, Scully noticed a foot.

Her heart flipped crazily in her chest and she kneeled down, hanging up
the phone.

Touching the foot with a reverent finger, she gasped.

"Grace?"

The little girl jumped, then slid out from under the bed, rubbing her
head.

"You made me bump my head. I was playing hide and seek. You didn't do it
right. . ."

Her words trailed off as she stood face to face with her mother, her
mouth open as she stared at the trembling, crying woman before her.

"Mommy?"

"Oh Gracie. . ." Scully wrapped her arms around the little girl, hugging
her tight tight tight, one hand coming up to cradle her head, the other
squeezing her waist.

"Gracie. . .You scared me!"

The little girl was half clothed, only a scant T-shirt on, and her
Barbie underwear, as if she had stopped in the middle of dressing to
hide under the bed.

"I called for you. . .Why didn't you answer me?"

Scully held her away from her body, peering right into her eyes, her own
features distorted by worry.

"That's not how you play hide and seek. . .Mommy! You're bleeding!"

Grace writhed in her grip, as if sickened by the sight, and Scully
remembered randomly that Melissa had hated the sight of blood.

Touching her tongue to her lip, sheh tasted the bitter copper of her
bleeding mouth, and stood, one hand still on Grace's shoulder.

She shut the door as she passed and led Grace to the sink, then picked
her up and placed her on the counter, not willing to let her out of her
sight.

Dabbing at her mouth with a washcloth, Scully winced, then wet it with
cold water to keep it from swelling up.

The fence, she thought.

Grace watched her with a sense of morbid fascination, her heels beating
into the cabinets below as she swung her legs back and forth.

"What did you do Mommy?"

Scully's eyes slid over to Grace and she sighed. "I went looking for
you. It's foggy outside and I couldn't see, so I ran into a fence."

Grace hissed. "Ouch."

"Right. Ouch."

"But, I was in *here* Mommy."

"Well, baby, you forgot to tell me that we were playing hide and seek
when you started hiding. You scared me. I didn't know where you were."

Grace was silent for a moment, then she turned her head, muffling her
voice when she spoke.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to play."

Scully sighed and wondered what Mulder would have done.

<Checked under the beds first, not the pool> said an annoying voice.

"Daddy plays hide and-"

"I'm sorry, then Grace!" Scully exploded, sick at herself and at the way
things were all the time. "I'm sorry I'm not Daddy. I'm sorry you're not
with him. . ."

She closed her mouth, turned her head, feeling even worse for having
said it, and leaned heavily against the sink.

Her eyes slid shut and she sighed, feeling her blood pulse through her
shredded lip and shake her head into pieces.

Grace slid down from the counter and dropped to the floor, then went to
the bed to get the rest of her clothes, changing quickly while her
mother breathed in and out in front of the mirror.

She sat down on the bed, then gathered up her Barbie dolls and Blue dog
and all the other toys strewn around. Carefully, she placed it all in
her bag and then zipped it up. She smiled remembering her Daddy had
given it to her; it used to carry his important camera stuff.

She placed that on the floor by the table, then tried to yank up the
sheets, to kind of make the bed up for her mother.

Scully was still trying to regain her balance when Grace tapped her on
the leg, pulling on her jeans.

"Yeah, Grace?"

"Can I see Daddy now?"

Scully crumpled to the floor.
~~~~

After a fit of sobbing, crying, screaming, and throwing things, Scully
managed to get Grace to eat lunch, wash her face, and then take a nap.

In the blessed silence of her sleep, Scully watched Grace dream, noting
the way her mouth moved as if she were sucking on a bottle, and the
small noises that she'd had since she was a baby.

She knew all the shades and nuances of her daughter in sleep, and the
depth of emotions that she carried with her from those times came
together then, in the quiet moments were Scully could find some kind of
peace.

She felt awful for panicking when Grace had merely been hiding under the
bed, and she felt awful for yelling at her, and awful for then crying in
front of her, and then awful again for whatever else she might have done
that had made Grace so picky and stubborn and angry today.

The room was bathed in shadows, with the curtains pulled, and just a few
slivers of light peeked through, making a yellow brick road to the
bathroom.

She stood up and went to the other bed, thinking it best that she get
some sleep too. Once she laid down, however, all she could think about
was her miserable relationship with Grace.

She reached over for the phone and picked it up, thinking she'd call
Mulder at the hospital.

Her hands stilled on the numbers, and she didn't dial.

No, to call Mulder would be to admit defeat. It would say, Mulder come
get your daughter, her mother is going nuts.

She shook her head and found herself punching in another number, longer,
one that came easily and from her heart.

Her mother's voice answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

It was breathless, as if she had known, and had run to the phone.

"Mom?"

"Dana? Hey sweetie."

"Mom, I need to talk to you."
~~~~

The tears glistened on her face as she retold everything, and she spent
an hour trying to choke the words past the rising lump in her throat.

In the end, her mother just sighed, her voice sounding like the weary
whisper of experience.

"Dana. . .I want you to think about something for me, all right?"

"Sure Mom."

"When you were little, what were some of your favorite times?"

Scully felt warmth return to her and she smiled.

"When Dad would get home on leave."

"Right. When your father was here."

Scully's breath stopped and she cupped the phone to her ear, tighter,
dreading the truth she was faced with.

"You. . .no. Mom, I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did, Dana. And I have already gone through what you're going
through four times. With Billy, Melissa, Charlie, and especially you.
You've always been Daddy's girl, sweetheart. Why'd you think it'd be any
different with Grace?"

Scully felt her guilt crash down on her like a weight.

"I made you feel this awful. . .oh, Momma, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Dana. I know you didn't mean for it to happen. But your father was
the family's hero. When he came home, he could do no wrong. He let you
guys do all the things I told you not to, simply because he was home,
and it was a special time. Of course, when he left, you cried and fought
me and generally never did as I asked."

Scully rose up from the bed, moving around the little girl still sound
asleep on the other one, pushing herself into the bathroom and closing
the door.

"But, Momma, I love you. I loved you then, more than anything. You were
the one who never left us behind. . ."

She could hear her mother sigh and then laugh.

"Dana, I was luckier than your father. I had all four of you every day,
and he only got a special time once every few months. So maybe the bond
wasn't as incredible, or the times always like heaven, but you were
mine. You were mine. And I knew you loved me."

"What do I do, Mom? How can I make it change? Mulder doesn't leave for
months on end. . .we *both* work. We both leave for the same amount of
time. How can she be so much closer to him?"

Scully leaned her head against the cold tiles, feeling the stain of
truth on her soul.

"Dana, she's a Daddy's girl, sweetheart. There's something about men and
the Scully women. It's nothing you can help."

Dana laughed and sighed. "But I want it to be better."

"Honey, in Grace's mind, she loves you. No way to miss that. *You* just
have to accept the fact that she's her father's own little fan club. Get
over it, Dana." 

The words were said softly, but they still shot straight to her soul.

Pulling her hair from the rubber band, she ran her fingers through the
damp strands.

"I guess."

Margaret Scully sighed, wishing she could be there to give her baby girl
a hug.

"Think of it like this. How is our relationship, Dana? How did you think
of me all those years when your father only saw us twice a year?"

"I loved you completely. I love you completely now. That will never
change."

"And I love you too. . .and so does Grace."

Sculy wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks and sniffed, laughing
even as she cried.

It felt better somehow, even though she'd done nothing.

"Thanks, Momma. I needed that."

"All right, sweetie. How's Fox's mother doing, by the way?"

Scully sat up straight, horrified.

"Oh no, I forgot. They called last night, said she wouldn't make it
through, so he went down there. I need to call, Mom. See what's going
on."

"Okay, darling. I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"Love you too."

Scully hung up, scrambled from the floor, pulling the phone back with
her. She glanced to Grace, and saw she was still sleeping.

Looking at the clock she noted the time.

Two in the afternoon.

Where *was* Mulder?
~~~~
~~~~

"nothing so patient as truth.
nothing so faithful as now.
walk out old chief, old husband,
enter again your own wife."
--"february 11, 1990", Lucille Clifton

~~~~

When he got there, all was death.

All was white and bright and cleansed, and a memory of another woman not
there when he arrived.

Running to the room, gaping at the clean pillow, the bright sheets, the
white walls scrubbed down, he felt rocked from reality.

No old woman barely breathing, no tubes running to frail fingers, no
eyes shutting him out.

All was death.

It was early yet, and he backed away, fear clutched deep within him
because he had not felt the final moment.

Beth was behind him; he stumbled into her, gasping for a breath that had
not come for his mother.

"She's gone, Fox. Right after we called."

He spun away, ran to the elevator, pressed the button, all the call
buttons, waiting for something to take away the almost pain thudding
through his chest.

His mother, his mother, and he never got a chance.

Never had a chance with her.

"Fox!"

He ran back, ignored the opened elevator, recognizing the craziness in
him but not able to stop it.

"Fox, wait."

He ignored his aunt, plowed through the halls like a man possessed, and
maybe he was. Maybe his mother's spirit had come to him in the car,
taken him over, seen the world from his view, and was sorry now.

Sorry now.

He never had a chance.

A strong grip brought him to a halt, falling into the arms holding him
back, the ice-silver hair of his aunt like mercury rising.

He wanted to scream.

"Fox. Go back to your wife, let her know."

"I. . .I never had a chance. I never got things fixed. You don't-"

"Fox Mulder. . .stop scaring me."

He shook his head and walked away, under his own power, by his own
warped sense of guidance, reaching for a mother who was not there.

"Can I see her? One last good bye."

A doctor was there then. Guiding him forward, pulling back a sheet, and
it was cold, so very cold all around him.

When had he jumped in time?

He was not in the hallway asking to see his mother's body anymore.

He was seeing his mother's body.

Her teeth were out.

Her body arched, hands like claws, hair limpid and so colorless.

It made her sunken cheeks look skeletal, and her eyes were horridly
open.

He reached over to shut them, to bring some kind of closure, but when
his fingers touched her skin, he jumped.

He couldn't breathe.

There was such a chill, such an overwhelming smell of death, in such a
familiar place.

Autopsy suite. . .steel table. . .scalpels.

He would never again be able to watch Scully work. Never again see her
hands cut a body without thinking:

that could be my mother

that was my mother

my mother

is gone.

He leaned forward, braced himself for the feel of dead meat and heavy
thick skin that slid around under his touch.

He gagged but closed her eyes.

He closed them.

Found that the gaping hole in him was gone.

Somewhere gone. Like her eyes and her soul and her essence.

Beth took his arm and led him away, up the steps, across the frozen
expanse of nothingness that was his mind.
~~~~

It was dark here, and he liked it.

It reeled before his vision just like the empty hospital room reeled
when he'd gone in there.

Maybe he was drunk.

Whether that was from alcohol or grief or confusion, he didn't know.

The bar was warm.

Not 'just like' his mother's skin as he reached down to shut her eyes.

To touch her one last time, still begging for a chance.

And Samantha meant nothing, and mothers meant nothing, and bars that
were too hot meant nothing.

Chances meant nothing.

Unless it was a chance with Scully.

He wondered where she was. With him somewhere, he could feel that. Maybe
over in the next booth.

His booth was too warm to get away from right now, and he as doing valid
testing right then.

Valid testing of his new theory.

The hole was closed.

It was there, but not. Like a seam in him that itched sometimes, and
pulled, or maybe it was more like stitches.

Stitches like they sew up corpses with after an autopsy. Like Scully
sewed up her bodies with out there when they worked. 

Did that mean he was dead?

She had sewed him up good and tight.

This hole was never coming open again.

His mother's eyes were closed and his hole was closed and now, he was
testing it out.

If it hadn't worked, he had nothing.

It was hot.

Too hot.

Too much spinning around.
~~~~

It was brighter now.

There was no failures in the test.

He had not sinned against his god.

He wondered again where she was.

Something was nagging him. 

Not his mother's cold skin, or the closed eyes, or Scully's sutures.

Scully.

Something about her was off.

In his picture book mind, the stories he was telling himself were too
simple, without words, and he could not connect them.

His mother was dead.

Too many words now. Too much thought.

"I never had a chance," he whispered and looked up, afraid.

He drank again.
~~~~

There she was, all silvered and ancient, her eyes deep in her sockets
like rocks sinking in the mud after it rains.

He smiled politely to her -- if anything, she'd taught him to be polite.

She shook her head and pulled the glass from his hands.

"You're going to end up like your father."

He silently agreed, but said no anyway.

"Stop drinking, you fool."

He was surprised. She was treating him like she treated his father.
Amazing.

Was he his father?

Mulder glanced down.

No. No.

He was still in his jeans and black T-shirt, hopelessly drunk and
uncoordinated, but him.

He glanced up, and his mother was gone.

His mother was always going to be gone.

That was how it was. That was life.

Life was eyes shutting and sutures in the holes were love was supposed
to go.

Life was getting the stuffing knocked out of you as a kid, and then shot
and stuffed and hung on a wall as an adult.

He laughed at himself and sobered.

He needed to be sober.

Because he had a sewed up hole that was itching and a little girl to be
a daddy to.

He ran to the bathroom and gave the sink his vomit.
~~~~

When she came in, he was almost there.

She was with Grace, and pale, like she was replaying some bad memory
that just wouldn't shake her.

Grace stared at him, thunderstruck, hands clutching her mother's.

He sighed and scooted down to let them in the booth.

Scully pushed Grace into the seat opposite him and they sat there for a
long time, thinking or feeling maybe, and trying not to yell.

Mulder eyed her very carefully, showing her he was basically sober, only
had a few in him at the moment that were still circulating.

"What happened, Mulder?"

He closed his eyes, then panicked and opened them again.

She was still looking at him.

"I got there and she was already gone."

Scully nodded and ran a hand over Grace's hair, carefully blocking her
eyes from the scenes of the bar around them.

"So. . .you came here?"

"I had to make sure it was really gone."

She didn't understand, but she never really understood half the things
he said anyway.

"Why didn't you come get me?"

He glanced up to her and shook his head.

"I think it's gone, Scully. That hole I told you about. I went and
looked at her. . .she was cold and gone, Scully. And something in me
just went too."

He was saying her name a lot, as if the sound could bring him back to
her faster, as if it could make her understand.

"Oh," she said softly and bit her bottom lip.

There was something she had to ask, and he could see it.

"No," he said.

She looked right into him, head cocked in askance.

"I didn't. Nothing happened. I'm yours. . .only yours."

Her eyes were bright and she relaxed, reaching her hand out to touch
his.

Grace was watching them intently, her whole being still and captivated,
holding her breath.

Mulder stood and pulled Scully up, their bodies meeting and crashing
into each other like sea and shore.

She licked her bottom lip and smiled, then closed her eyes.

He couldn't breathe.

"Open your eyes, Scully."

She did so, confused, feeling how cold and tense he was, how his breath
ran jagged through his throat.

He eased into her, face to her neck, holding her like they were slow
dancing to a rhythm only in his head.

She stroked his hair and kissed his chin.

"I had to close her eyes. . .they were wide wide open, staring. I
reached over and closed them," he whispered.

Scully sighed and then shook her head.

"We can't stay awake all our lives, Mulder."

Wow. An important, mind wrenching thought on two levels. He was outdone.

He managed a laugh and then looked over at Grace, reaching out a hand to
her. His little girl came joyfully, bounding up into his arms and
hugging him tightly around the neck.

"Did you have fun today, baby?"

Grace glanced to her mother, eyes wide.

"Mommy and I played hide and seek," she said.

Scully laughed and Mulder gave up ever trying to understand the humor
there, then they all walked to the door.

"I'll drive, Mulder," Scully said, pulling the keys from his front jeans
pocket.

He gave her a look.

"Watch where your hands are roaming. I'm a married man."

She smiled and raised her eyebrows at him, moving to unlock the car.

"Well then. I suggest you get home to your wife. She's probably worried
sick about you."

He buckled Grace into the backseat and then slid into the passenger
side, breathing out slowly as the day seemed to spin.

She looked at him, reached out her hand to steady him and he grabbed it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and kissed her fingertips.

Her hand curled around his touch and she sighed.

"Next time, Mulder. . .I'm here."

Her eyes were dark and brooding, lips red from the cold.

He shook his head.

"There's not going to be a next time."
~~~~

end of Refine
adios
RM
--okay. should there be more? cause I really think I can end it here--