Title: Wrapped in the Wind
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully and the X-Files belong to CC, 1013, and
Fox. No infringement is intended. 
SPOILERS::::Emily mytharc, The End and Beginnings, and just to be safe::
US7--is that what we're in already? ESPECIALLY THE KISS!!!!!

Summary: This is a Romance with Mulder and Scully and a little baby
girl. Much like The Emilys, if you liked those.

=-=-=-=
Wrapped in the Wind
=-=-=-=

"A wind has wrapped them in its wings"

--Hosea 4:19

=-=-=-=

Part One

=-=-=-=

I can sit in front of this mirror and notice all the details of my body
without feeling ashamed or frightened or regretful. I have the same
body, but a different soul, and that makes all the changes real to me.
My legs and stomach and arms are probably thinner than they were before,
but that is from running around and not eating right: I will be healthy
again before long.

I can see the edging of a scar on my belly, but it is thin and was
stitched up nicely, after both the first and second bullets. One from
the man who was supposed to be my partner at the time, and one to save
my partner and all the rest. It is amazing to me that I am here, looking
at my scars and the life I have now, comparing them and not even
recognizing all the worries I had before.

The baby sits on the floor beside me and she gazes at me with adoration
before waving her hand again: our reflection fascinates her intensely
and she discovers it with the same focus that Mulder has always
discovered things. Her hair is dark and thick, curling up on the ends to
lighten out; her eyes are still baby blue and Mulder is convinced they
will never change. Maybe not.

We both just finished a bath, finding relaxation in bubbles and buoyancy
in the hot water. The baby likes the bubbles just as much as I do, which
is ironic and comforting all the same. I pull her into my lap and watch
us sitting naked before the mirror. Our bodies are smooth and pink with
warmth; we gaze at our reflection.

Mulder had promised to hang the mirror over my dresser, but since he had
never had the time to get around to it, I left it on the floor. I like
being able to see if my shoes match as I leave the room, but there is a
mirror in the bathroom if I want to see my face. I would rather not
catch a glimpse of myself as I have to leave for work. My face is
already set into coldness by the time we move out of the bedroom.

I sometimes feel that threat hanging over me, the threat Mulder and I
faced for years before safety seemed to be within our grasp. I'm not
sure why now is any different from then, but no one has come after us,
and we're still here.

We're still here. That is what is most amazing. Not only have we cheated
certain death, or maybe just certain bereavement, but we are still here.
Together, still working, still partners, still with this little family.
I don't understand how it could have all worked out, but it has. It has
and we're here.

Only God could have given this to me. Only God. There's no way I
stumbled into this all by myself. Especially considering how I reacted
when I first saw Mulder with the baby, considering the things he said
that I thought I could never forgive.

=-=-=-=

Sitting at home, I felt exhausted and worn out, not just physically, but
spiritually and mentally as well. My couch was lumped in the wrong spots
and I got a crick in my neck before I could manage the energy to move to
my bedroom.

The room was dark and cool, like comforting arms reaching out to embrace
me. Something about my home, my room, kept me renewed. It was thin with
a soft comforter and a wide window that I usually kept cracked. The
breezes meandered through during the summer and the stiff chill of
winter seeped inside to take the dryness out of the room in the long
days of February.

My heater was on low because I'd been away on a case, so I notched it up
carefully, keeping it right on seventy to ease the room into warmth
without making it heavy and oppressive. I slipped out of my shoes and
hose, kicking them into a corner and ignoring the messiness for a
moment. I had to wriggle around in my skirt before it would slide down
and then I felt a lot more free.

I padded softly into the bathroom off the hall in just underwear and my
white dress shirt. The water ran cold for a long time before it got hot
and it gave me a chance to take off my earrings and necklace and watch,
and then slip out of the rest of my clothes.

The bathtub filled up with bubbles and steam and hot water and I watched
it for a time, hypnotized, before turning and placing a towel on the
floor beside the tub. I washed my face free of make-up, especially the
mascara, and then stepped into the water.

My flesh crawled as the heat of the water fought against the chill of
the air and the lukewarm nature of my body, and then I slipped deeper
into the bath. It took a moment before I got the nerve to lean back
against the cold porcelain and rest my tensed back, but once I was
settled, it warmed quickly.

I loved the musky smell of the bubbles as the popped and fizzed down
against my movements. I could even detect the lavender perfume of my
lotion and soap as it dissolved from my body and into the water. It
intoxicated me and soon I could close my eyes and feel far far away.

I drifted on bubbles and dreams, watching the darkness behind my lids
change into rainbows and fireworks of black, then into clouds of night
and dragons of splotched yellow. I rode a dragon to the edge of my
vision and back again, and then slipped my chin into the water.

My muscles were unwinding and unknotting, the sinew like ropes on ships
as the sail was let back down, the tautness and alertness dissolving. I
could feel every bubble against my skin, see every dream I would have
that night, feel the beginnings of sleep tiptoeing around me.

The ringing of the phone didn't even faze me. I just sighed and slipped
further into the tub, ignoring the insistency of it. The portable in my
living room was shrilling in concert with the phone in my bedroom and I
imagined that it was a great piece of music, unsure of which one it
could be. It was a bit too high-pitched for Bach or Mozart or Handel. It
fell off and I was left to peace.

And then my cellular rang from the pile of clothes in the floor. I
didn't remember leaving my jacket in there when I got home, but I must
have slipped it off when I went to the bathroom. Four cups of coffee
before heading home will do that.

I sighed and eased out of the tub, realizing that it was probably Mulder
and probably one of his emergencies. Not that I was sick of Mulder, just
that I was sick of his emergencies. He called frequently with awful
excuses that he didn't even try to make fly, and I would humor him and
talk to him, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Scully." I answered, trying to avoid dripping on my clothes. The towel
was large and thick, but it didn't keep me warm.

"Scully. Oh good. Good."

"Mulder?"

"I just. . .I had an odd phone call a few minutes ago and I was worried.
. ."

I frowned, letting the towel drop so that I could get back in the
bathtub. He wasn't calling me about a case; he wasn't coming over.

The water encased me like a heavy warm blanket and I sighed.

"Scully?"

"Who called?"

"I. . .CancerMan."

"What did he want?" I asked, wondering if he was making this one up too.

"He told me to meet him tomorrow. He said 'there's someone here you
ought to see'."

"Mulder. . .are you being serious?"

"I know I seem to be calling for random reasons, lately, but this is
real. There'll be a cab waiting for me outside the Bureau."

"Just you?"

There was a terse silence before he continued. "Yes. He told me
specifically to be alone."

"Mulder, I don't like this at all."

"Well. . .if it's Samantha again. . .I want to see her, Scully."

I sighed and closed my eyes. "I know," I said softly and tried not to
let the tears into my voice. Sometimes his need made me crumble. "But I
don't want you walking into a trap."

"I haven't really thought about it. I called right after he hung up. I
thought he might be talking about you."

"Me?"

"If he had you. . ."

"No. I'm here."

There was another long silence and I buried myself in water until it was
up to my chin and my neck was propped at an angle to keep the phone out
of my bath.

"We could have agents follow you."

I could hear him sigh on the other end. "He said to be alone. I'm more
inclined to believe that he won't hurt me, Scully. He sounded almost
desperate."

"Desperate men do desperate things."

"Yes, but this is sudden. Nothing's going on, there's no case, nothing.
In fact, we've been pretty well clear of conspiracies since New Year's."

I could feel my blush start deep in my body and work to my cheeks at the
mention of New Year's. Seven years for a kiss and I was still blushing
just thinking about it. It wasn't really that hot or passionate or
arousing, but it had been sweet and it had been Mulder.

"I want you to call me as soon as you get in the cab, then."

I knew he would be smiling even though I couldn't see him. I rolled onto
my side in the tub, at a better angle for my neck and traced the cracks
between the tiles.

"What are you doing, Scully?"

I smiled. He was moving on, determined in our established plan. But I
wasn't through talking yet.

"You'll call me in the cab, then? And when you get to wherever you're
going, if you can."

"I'll call."

"And when he leaves."

"And when he leaves," Mulder echoed.

"Good."

"So what are you doing, Scully? I'm hearing all these strange sounds."

His words held a hint of teasing and I shifted in the tub again, making
the water break around my legs.

"You mean that sound?"

"Yeah."

"I'm taking a bath."

He paused, his breath inhaling sharply. "Oh."

"Breathe, Mulder."

He chuckled on the other end and it broke the oddly formed ice between
us. The warmth of his laugh was different from the water, lighter but
thicker, feeling good in the same way a gentle breeze feels during the
summer.

I could fall asleep with that echoing in my mind and warming me through
and through.

"Are you on your cell phone?" I asked, jolted from my reverie by a
clicking sound.

"Yeah. And you'll be happy to know that I'm driving down your street
right now."

"What!"

I jerked up in the bath, wincing when water sloshed over the side and
onto my towel. I could feel the half panic half frustration tightening
my muscles and arms again.

"Relax. I called first, but you didn't answer your home phone. So I
jumped in my car and then dialed your cell phone."

"Mulder. . ."

"You don't have to get out, Scully. I can let myself in."

I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure what I should be saying. He
was coming over and I was naked in the bathtub. That really wasn't too
good, especially since the kiss, but I didn't know how to say that to
him.

He was equally silent and I wondered if he knew exactly what I was
thinking and was coming anyway, just because he wanted to know what
would happen. 

"I'm outside," he breathed and he seemed to be waiting for me to
pronounce judgment.

I sighed. "You might as well come in. I'll be out."

He clicked off his phone and I laid there for a brief moment, closing my
eyes. I didn't want this to be happening now, not until I could analyze
everything I felt, anything Mulder might feel. I could always refuse to
let him touch me, refuse to play along with him, but I was afraid that
would hurt us more than anything.

It wasn't like I didn't love him. He's Mulder, my partner. But the
degree of that love, the extent, the capacity to forgive in this love
was not so as great as it ought to be. I didn't want to be without him,
but I didn't want to necessarily be with him. Not tonight. I had really
just pushed everything away and pretended it was nothing. I should have
known it wouldn't work for long.

I heard the door open and I pulled myself from the tub, wrapping a
different, longer, towel around my body and drying off. I heard him tap
on the door and I smiled. 

"You can come in, Mulder."

"I can?"

I rolled my eyes and unplugged the drain, letting the water chug out as
Mulder carefully slipped inside my bathroom. When I turned around he was
leaning against the doorjamb, a look on his face that I'm sure he didn't
mean to show.

I walked up to him and pushed past his chest, tapping his breastbone
with a finger.

"Let me get dressed."

He nodded and looked as if he wanted to follow me but then moved to the
living room. I sighed in relief and closed my bedroom door, my shoulders
drooping. Quickly I grabbed plaid pajama pants from the bed and a light
blue Care Bears T-shirt that matched a stripe in the pants. The shirt
was ragged and from my college days, but it still fit, which showed less
of my exercising and more of the effects of the cancer. I still had
suits in the back of my closet that were too big. I wasn't complaining
at all, but sometimes when I saw each of my ribs in the mirror I got
worried. 

And it had been awhile since the cancer.

My hair was damp on the ends and curling up, but I ignored the
unprofessionalism of it and reminded myself that Mulder had just seen me
in no makeup and a towel, and had seen me in worse. I walked out of the
bedroom and into the kitchen first, grabbing two mugs and green tea from
the fridge. I poured out enough for us and then stuck the mugs in the
microwave.

"Scully?"

"Yeah," I answered, moving to the living room.

He opened his arms to me and I stood there for a moment, confused, then
sat down next to him, letting him hug me tightly. His clothes smelled
like sleep and I closed my eyes to remember the scent.

"You smell good," he said and I smiled.

"Bubble bath."

"Cute shirt," he mumbled, tugging on my sleeve.

I smiled and wondered if I should be letting myself get so entangled in
him.

He rubbed my shoulders and back, then let me back up to get the tea. I
tried not to look back at him as I moved into the kitchen, but I
couldn't help the shake in my hands as I took the mugs from the
microwave. They were both too hot but I carried them carefully back to
the living room, feeling the burn in my thumbs like a bite.

"Thanks," he said as I handed him the mug. "Is there a window open?"

"Yeah, too cold?"

"No. It feels good. I was just making sure."

The unsaid words behind his asking were there and I could touch them; he
was worried about me but knew I hated it when he fussed. The thing was,
he hated it when I fussed over him too, but I never backed off and I
never hid my meaning behind innocent questions. Fussing was a doctor's
privilege and it gave me an excuse to touch him.

We sipped the tea and sat in silence, remembering the conversations and
the memories, but not letting ourselves give in. By the way he somewhat
glanced in my direction every other minute, I knew he wanted to say
something, but I was afraid of letting him.

"Scully," he started.

I turned to look at him with pleading in my eyes. Don't do this now,
please don't. For your sake as well as mine.

He seemed to sense it and stopped, closing his mouth. His face changed
though and I wondered if I had ruined things, if I had regressed us
years with my quiet desperation. His fingers traced the rim of the cup
and then he set it on the coffee table and stood up.

"Thanks for the tea, but I should let you sleep."

I watched in bewilderment as he stepped by me, his face a mask of regret
and disappointment and resignation. I scrambled to my feet, flustered
and just a touch angered.

"You don't have to go," I said.

He turned back and shook his head. "It's late. I have to actually be at
work early tomorrow."

He was joking but rather lamely, since I knew he was always early to
work. He was trying to reassure me that this was not my fault, but I
knew better. I set my tea down and moved to the door with him, trying to
find something to say that would fix the hurt in his eyes.

At the last moment I snatched his hand. "Thanks for worrying about me."

He smiled in genuine relief and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. I
moved into it, closing my eyes to the smell and the touch.

When he stepped back I smiled.

I watched his car leave from my bedroom window, in the dark with the
street lights and the cold wind of winter caressing my skin. Instead of
Mulder. I sighed and moved to the bed, then under the sheets. The first
chill of it made me stiffen, but then heat began to move from my body to
the bed and I was warm again.

I know I dreamed of Mulder.

=-=-=-=

I met him in the parking garage and squeezed his hand tightly when he
smiled at me. I wanted to tell him to just forget about it, but he would
regret not going for the rest of his life; I just hoped he wouldn't
regret *going* for the rest of however long his life would be.

"I'll be fine, Scully."

I frowned again. "Are you sure I couldn't follow behind? If he's not
going to hurt you anyway, why should my presence hurt?"

"I need to show him that I'm investing as much trust into this as he
is."

"Mulder. Trust?"

"I have to, Scully."

We were at the elevators and I wanted to take him with me and run, but
that was equally as foolish as any of the other plans I'd thought of
this morning while driving into work. I watched him wink at me and step
onto the elevator, holding it open for me. I didn't want to think that
this might be the last I saw him.

When the car opened into the lobby, we walked out smoothly in tandem,
then stood in the open area before the metal detectors. I was watching
him anxiously, and I'm sure he wasn't feeling too confident with that
kind of look on my face, so I forced myself to look out for the cab.

"There it is," he said.

I nodded as the yellow cab pulled up to the Hoover building. The sign
was off and the windows were tinted so we couldn't see inside. 

"Let me come with you!" I said suddenly, glancing back at him.

He shook his head. "One of us has to be here just in case."

"Don't say that, Mulder."

He shrugged and moved for the door. I wished we were in someplace more
private because I wanted to have him kiss me again. As it was, I just
let him walk away, knowing that I ought to at least remind him to call
me.

I didn't though and he was inside the cab before I could memorize his
walk from the building to the sidewalk. At once it pulled away and I
moved on through the metal detectors, trying to make it to our office
before he called.

I was still waiting in line with a crowd of people for the elevators
when my cell phone trilled at me. It was in my hands and I didn't
realize I had been nervously toying with it until I thumbed it on.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, Scully."

I held my breath, waiting for our code. I moved out of the crowd of
people in case I had to go running after him and managed to find a
secluded corner.

"Where are you?" he asked.

Our code. I breathed in relief and slumped against the wall. "Thank
you," I whispered, before answering. "Right outside the elevators."

"Oh. Well. I don't know where we're going yet. The driver won't tell
me."

"Where are *you*?"

"Around the Lincoln Memorial. We've actually circled it twice, which
makes me think that's where I'm to meet with CancerMan."

"So the driver is supposed to wait for a signal or something?"

"I'm guessing so."

I opened my eyes again and moved forward, fighting through the new crowd
by the elevators to get on the lift ahead of them.

"I have to let you go, Mulder. The elevator is here."

"All right. I'll call when we stop."

I clicked him off and settled the phone in my pocket, smiling to myself.
My fingers were picking excitedly against the hem of my coat and I saw
the amusement and annoyance on the faces of the people around me. My
face sobered immediately and I held myself stiffly in the car, wishing I
could be enough myself to not care what they thought about my relief and
nervousness.

As soon as I unlocked the office my phone rang again. I was surprised to
hear from him so quickly but I answered it and dropped the keys on my
desk.

"Mulder?"

"Agent Mulder and I are having a nice brunch, Agent Scully."

I sucked in my breath painfully over the lump in my throat, clutching
the chair to keep myself standing upright. CancerMan's voice had lost
none of its gravel, but had gained a slick oil spill sound to it that
made me sick.

"Let me speak to him."

"Agent Mulder says to ask you where you are."

I blinked and stumbled against the chair, dropping to sit in it without
noticing where I was. The chair was too large and dwarfed my legs and I
realized I was behind Mulder's desk.

"What?"

"Where are you?"

"I. . .Oh."

"I am assuming this takes care of any little codes or playing at secret
spy, Agent Scully, so I'll let you go."

The phone went dead and I pulled it away from ear slowly, numb with
confusion and frustration. Mulder had given him the code, which could
mean he was either really all right, or being tortured, which was not
something I even wanted to think about.

Not five minutes ago he was around Lincoln Memorial, and now they were
eating brunch, so I didn't think he could be in all that much trouble.
For some reason, he hadn't wanted Mulder to talk to me.

I decided to wait there for him to call me again, to reassure me he was
truly all right. My head dropped to his desk and I cradled the phone in
my cold, numbed hands. I prayed I was doing the right thing.

=-=-=

"Scully!"

I felt a chill shudder through me at his hissed words.

"You know that steak place across from the Memorial?"

"Steak. . .which--"

"Lincoln. You know the one. With the flags from all the countries--"

"Right. Yeah."

"Come down here."

"Mulder? What's going on?"

"He stepped into the back to make a phone call. Get down here, Scully."

"What's going *on*?"

"You'd never believe it."

=-=-=

The 'steak place' Mulder mentioned was called Small World and it boasted
the flags of 176 different countries, which wasn't all of them, but was
really close. I parked behind the building in a lot that cost eight
dollars an hour and hurried to the front door, trying to see inside.

Mulder was at the back when I came inside, so I ignored the hostess and
stepped through the entryway to the tiled floor, glancing down at the
blue water and brown continents in mosaic across the dining area.

When I reached Mulder he stepped a bit to the right and I saw the
carrier. More specifically, the baby in the carrier.

"Mulder?"

"He's been gone fifteen minutes now, Scully. I searched the bathroom and
the phone booths and even the kitchen. He's gone."

"He left you with this?" I said, indicating the sleeping infant in the
grey carrier. Its fingers were in tight fists but it seemed healthy
enough.

"Yeah. This is who I was supposed to meet."

"Who *is* it?"

Mulder hushed my almost panicked words with a hand to my shoulder,
pushing me into a chair around the table with his strength. I sagged
down, staring at the baby and then at Mulder.

"He said that she was one of the projects, Scully. The baby was a last
resort that he tried to stop from happening, but he couldn't."

"A project? Is she sick?" I felt fear constricting my stomach before I
realized what I had even asked. It seemed that this would be a day for
an Emily haunting. They grew fewer and farther apart, but she was there
today, with her dying eyes staring into my soul.

"I don't know. I don't think so. All he said was that she belongs to
us."

My breath stopped and I looked up to Mulder, fingers trembling. "Belongs
to us?"

"I asked him if that meant she was. . .was ours, but he said no."

I could breathe again, but the breath was stilted and not as easy or
relieved as I'd expected. Maybe some part of me had wanted this baby to
be mine, even as most of me rebelled against even getting involved.

"But she belongs to us?"

"Maybe he was being cryptic, knowing he'd leave her here with me."

"What's her name?" I asked, glancing over at the baby again.

"I don't know. He never said."

"But she's a project of last resort. Evidently, someone he can't
control thought it was necessary to work on their last resort."

"So he handed her off to me, us," Mulder said, frowning.

"Is she like Gibson?" I asked softly, reaching out to stroke the little
girl's clenched fist. She relaxed in the seat and I shook my head to
keep from getting too attached.

"I don't know, Scully. I don't know anything."

I glanced up at him and he was frustrated with me for some reason, but I
couldn't figure out why he was being so tense. He sighed and reached for
the baby, touching her hand where I had just placed my own.

"We should take her to Child Services," I said.

Mulder glanced up at me with a hint of surprise, but mainly
disagreement.

"We need to keep her with us. He gave her to us for a reason, Scully."

"No, Mulder," I said, already getting weary of him. "We're taking her to
the people that can help her best. We're not taking care of her."

"Scully. She's in danger--she needs us. We can't protect her if she's
with Child Services."

"Mulder this is a baby we're talking about, a person. We cannot just
decide on a whim to keep her. It's illegal, not to mention just wrong.
I'm not going to do that to her."

He shook his head as if to clear my words, his eyes closed. He sat very
still for a moment, a deep anger in him that I hadn't seen since his
plea to me before the bee sting.

"Scully. If he's giving her to us and then running, then someone is
going to want her back. Someone will take her back to that lab, back to
being that test, that project. We have to keep her safe for a while."

I wanted to shake him for his stupidity and his stubbornness. Couldn't
he see how awful this was for me? how familiar? This was a baby, not a
toy, not a piece of evidence. It was better for her to be placed under
constant care rather than our meager two person insanity.

"Scully, you of all people should understand."

That broke it, that was the last of it.

"Mulder. Emily is no different from this; don't even start to tell me
what I did for her was wrong."

He shut up and looked at me, but I was carefully not looking at him,
instead studying the wood grain decorating the lacquered table. I felt
very close to either walking out on him or hitting him, but I had the
awful feeling I was going to cry instead.

I had placed Emily in that van myself, strapped her in her carseat and
said good-bye as Child Services took her away. At that moment, she had
been maybe Melissa's, but later she was mine and I still had not tried
to 'liberate' her from the home. Even when I knew she was in trouble.

"Do you want to be running to this baby's bedside early in the morning
only to find that she too is dying?"

I gasped at his words and jerked my head up, the tears very close now
and threatening. I wanted to hate him, I wanted to erase the memory of
Mulder cradling Emily as she sweated and shivered. He had profaned my
memory; he had made me feel that all-encompassing guilt again. It had
taken long enough to get rid of in the beginning.

"Don't ever talk about Emily again," I said and stood up from the table.
I grabbed the carrier and began walking for the door. "She's going to
Child Services."

I left Mulder sitting at the table.

=-=-=

I was leery of the phone for a few days, expecting to hear Melissa's
voice when I answered, just as I had that Christmas two years ago. <Go
to her> But no one called except my mother. I hadn't expected Mulder to
call. I had hurt him and he had hurt me.

At three o'clock on the Monday after Mulder had been dumped with the
baby, Child Services called to say that the baby was sick. Since we
weren't allowed to test her blood for the virus, I had asked them to
call and let me know if she got sick, but I hadn't really felt it would.

It threw me for a long moment and I sat clutching the phone in the
office, staring at the files in front of me. The baby was sick. Sick.
Fever. I trembled inside and thanked the woman for telling me, then
carefully replaced the receiver.

I closed my eyes, cradling my head in my hands. I heard Mulder look up
from his work, and I could feel his eyes on me, but I said nothing. How
was I to explain this to him? I didn't want to even begin. It hurt to
think that maybe I was causing this little girl's sickness too, but I
still didn't know how to do it differently.

"Scully?"

"I have to go," I said and stood up hastily, gathering my coat and
briefcase and keys. He was watching me carefully and I had the feeling
that he knew, had tapped the lines or listened in and knew, but I shook
my head and moved for the door.

His hand on my arm stopped me and I glanced up to see his dark, 
intense eyes.

"You'd better tell me," he said carefully.

His gaze was so very probing, so hurtful, that I couldn't look away and
I couldn't lie. His fingers on my arm were tight and pinching, but I
just glanced down and mumbled out the truth.

"She's sick. It's my fault."

I wrenched from his grip to flee, but he caught me again before I could
make it out the door. His fingers were not as tight and he ignored my
stare of coldness to pull me into his arms.

"It's not your fault, Scully. It's not. I didn't mean it about Emily."

I wiggled away and shook my head, wiping the tears with the back of my
hands.

"I've got to go."

"I'm coming with you," he said. 

=-=-=

Part Two

=-=-=

I held her while the pediatrician examined her ears and throat and eyes
and stomach. She was alert but slow to respond, and her eyes immediately
watered with tears at all the poking and prodding. Mulder hung back from
it, not feeling comfortable enough to sit down.

Once we'd arrived at the children's home, I had offered to take the baby
to a doctor I knew, saying that I wanted to pay for it myself. The lady
in charge had called a few people and then she'd been signed out to me
as Baby Jane. No one knew her name; I felt awful that she did not have
one yet.

In my head, I called her the Baby, but I knew that wouldn't work for
long. If she was adopted, they would name her, and I wasn't supposed to
be getting attached here either.

The doctor smiled at me and rubbed one of the instruments on his jacket
to warm it up before sticking it in her ear. The baby rubbed her head
against me, trying to squirm away from the thing in her ear, but I held
her carefully and managed to let the doctor look.

We were sitting up on the exam table, the baby in my lap so the doctor
could see her, and I kept looking over and catching Mulder's stare. It
was warm and intense, but I still felt awful enough to look away
whenever he happened to glance into my eyes.

"All right. If you'll lay her down here, I can check her belly."

I laid the baby on the paper sheet, hearing it crunch as I moved. The
baby's head swiveled to see all around her, and I held onto one of her
hands, letting her fingers curl around my thumb. The doctor moved his
competent hands over the baby, checking for lumps or irregularities
while I held my breath.

Then he looked up at me and winked, his face split into a grandfatherly
grin that made me feel a bit more relieved.

"Don't worry, Mom. It looks like an ear infection. You can put her
clothes back on."

I startled at his words and glanced to Mulder, but he only shrugged and
smiled at me. The doctor wrote a few things on his chart and then left.

"What did you write on the forms, Mulder?"

I gathered the baby back into my arms and held her to keep her warm
while Mulder picked up her clothes from the chair and headed towards us. 

"I wanted to make sure that no one could trace her or us. I'm paying in
cash, so they won't care when it turns out that I fudged a little bit."

He had made us into a family. I shook my head and sighed, moving my
hands so Mulder could help clothe her again.

"What did you call her?"

"What?"

"The baby. You had to put a name."

He looked embarrassed and pulled the pants up the girl's legs while I
held her. I carefully tugged her thick shirt over her head and fished
around in the sleeves for her hands. The baby smiled and bucked in my
arms, but I managed to keep her from falling.

"Get her socks. What did you name her?" I asked again, holding my hand
out for her socks.

Mulder handed them over and I waited while I wrestled with her feet. She
liked to wiggle around and curl her toes, which made it hard to dress
her.

"I named her Emma."

I frowned and looked at him. "Emma?"

"Well. I started to write Emily, and then I thought maybe that might not
be a smart idea."

I glanced back down at the baby and pulled on her other sock, thinking
to myself as I did.

"Emma."

He nodded and I took her shoes from his grasp, then readjusted the baby
sideways on my lap so I could reach her feet better. Mulder moved and
placed a hand on the little girl's back so that I could have both hands
free. It took a while to get her shoes on, but she was calmer and I tied
them quickly.

"I like it," I said finally and looked at Mulder.

He smiled. I tried to remember what name had been called as we'd waited,
but now that I thought about it, I hadn't heard anything. Mulder had
just suddenly jumped up and said, 'that's us' and I had followed.

Emma was all dressed and I stood her on my knees so Mulder could put her
coat on. I wondered where such things had been bought for her. This was
the only outfit I'd seen her in, but I assumed the children's home had
more donated clothes for her. I couldn't imagine CancerMan buying a
baby's coat.

I settled Emma back into my lap and realized I was calling her Emma now
and thinking about her like she was mine, like she belonged to me. I
shivered and handed the baby to Mulder so I could get down off the exam
table.

When I glanced back at him he was holding her awkwardly, both hands
around her waist and her body tucked close to his rather oddly. Her feet
kicked and she kept tilting her head back to see him.

I laughed and reached out to help Mulder, but he pulled back.

"No. I'm going to figure this out," he said. "I don't need help."

I watched as he carefully juggled his hands and the baby until it seemed
to fit. He was holding her like a newborn, pressed against his chest and
one hand on her head, but I smiled and shrugged.

"Good enough."

His arm was tucked under Emma's bottom and he sat down on the chair
confidently, a smile in his eyes. I came to sit next to them and watched
the baby's eyes drift close.

"Can't we keep her, Scully?"

I sighed and looked back at him. "Mulder."

He sighed in response and I didn't need to say any more. He rubbed
Emma's back and leaned into the chair, his shoulders slumped. The 
baby was beginning to drool on his shoulder and he looked over at me,
grinning.

"She reminds me of you," he said and moved his hand to wipe it away.
Emma stirred but did not open her eyes.

I narrowed mine and poked Mulder in the side. "I do not drool."

"Not always. Just sometimes."

I shook my head and leaned back to watch Emma sleep, knowing that I
ought to distance myself from a baby that would never really belong to
me, but I couldn't help it. I was tired of removing myself from
everything, tired of feeling so separate from reality and people and the
world.

"How long will it take?"

"Who knows?" I said. "Children's doctor's offices are notoriously slow."

"Hours?"

"Maybe."

"Great." He rolled his eyes and began to stroke Emma's back again, his
palm so large against her small baby back. She was probably six months
old, and I wished that somehow, we could get her. I could get her. Not
because I was feeling sentimental, but because she needed a real home
and I didn't know how long she'd have to be a ward of the state.

"Scully, I have to tell you something."

"Yeah?" I asked, feeling the edge to my voice but not being able to tamp
down on the sudden anxiety that tightened in my chest.

"I applied to adopt her."

"Mulder."

"I just couldn't let her stay in that children's home forever. . .I know
I don't have much of chance--"

"Mulder you don't have a chance at all. Your admittance to the
psychiatric hospital is public record. That will be the first thing they
find when they go looking. And not once Mulder, but twice."

He paused, glancing over to me, seeing the absolute sorrow on my face.
He sighed and shook his head.

"I figured it was a long shot. If you couldn't get Emily. . .I don't
have a chance."

I bit my lip and shook my head, closing my eyes in remembrance. I 
hadn't told Mulder this, or anyone really, but I had promised all kinds 
of things in order to keep Emily. I'd promised to scale back on work, 
to leave work, to even get married and be stable. At the time, I'd been
desperate for Emily and I had promised things. Even to marry Mulder 
and adopt Emily together, as desperate and foreign as it had sounded.

I thought about my saying that, and I wondered if that had changed.
Foreign and desperate was changing to maybe and hopefully. Not so 
much that Mulder and I would get married, but that we would even get 
to that point.

I smiled as I thought and Mulder caught my smile and tapped his finger
against my lips.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Emily," I said, as simply as I could without embarrassing myself or him.

"Good stuff?"

"Yeah. Don't sound so surprised."

He grinned back at me and Emma shifted on his shoulder and hunkered 
down again.

"This is kind of nice, Scully. A little moment of normalcy for us, huh?"

I glanced to Emma and then back to Mulder's little wistful smile and
slightly pained eyes.

"Yeah. Just a moment."

=-=-=

"Scully, remember when I told you that I had applied to adopt Emma, or
to at least gain foster care of her?"

Scully felt her burst of joy flare and tighten as reality set in. "Yes."

"I forgot the most important part."

"What part?"

"I sort of put your name down too."

"Wh-You did what?"

I felt my breath coming in tight uncontrolled spurts and I couldn't seem
to think.

"I thought we'd have a better chance going in together, so I wrote that
we were applying for joint custody--"

"Mulder."

"Well, they want to interview us."

"Mulder, what have you done?"

"Are you not going to do this with me?"

"Mulder. You're putting me on the spot."

I could hear him sigh. "I didn't think I'd even get a chance, Scully."

He wasn't doing this to me. Not at all. I wasn't going to get dragged
into this, not now, not after everything.

"Please, Scully. Just the interview. I've still been committed twice,
right?"

I had to laugh despite the anxious fear bubbling through me. He chuckled
on the other end and it was a warm embrace that wrapped around me like 
a scarf and coat and mittens, thick and insulating.

"All right, Mulder. When's the interview?"

I could feel his over-joy through the lines. It held a sweet taste that
left a bitter coating on my tongue. We were sinking deeper into the
mire.

=-=-=

The winter chill outside would have been debilitating enough, but the
wind was like a blade, slicing through my coat and gloves and clothes
even, carving my skin with the frozen bleeding of pain and stiffness. I
slogged through the wind, carefully placing my feet to avoid the patches
of ice that seemed to coat the sidewalks and roads. I could lean into
the harshness of the wind and it would hold me up. I wondered if I fell,
would the wind pick me up?

I wouldn't ever tell Mulder this, but sometimes I thought the wind
whispered things to me, told me how to go or where to go. There was
always a draft whenever someone died; there was always a breeze floating
around my room in the summer. 

What would this wind be telling me? Leave, run, don't get trapped in
this. Don't go where the wind can't follow.

As I walked up the steps to Mulder's apartment building, I could see his
excited face peering at me from the living room window. He waved and I
smiled and waved back, shaking my head. Maybe the wind was telling 
me, if you fall, if both of you fall, I'm still here to pick you up.

=-=-=

"There are some notable hospital visits. . .those are really what worry
me, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully."

I was feeling anxious and nervous, just as I had with the woman who met
me about Emily. And I wasn't even really applying this time, Mulder was.
We were sitting on the couch while the woman in the chair across from 
us told us things we should have known.

Mulder took my hand and it relaxed me somewhat, but I couldn't help
wonder if he was playacting or being real. I glanced over at him and saw
that he was nodding tensely. He didn't look cool enough to be putting on
a front.

"There are two instances of admittance that are of a. . .psychiatric
nature."

"In the first," I said, jumping in to keep Mulder from talking. "Agent
Mulder was part of a tense hostage situation; he was admitted because 
of his theories about the reasons behind the incident. They turned out to
be mostly correct when I came and found some. . .one attacking him."

The woman nodded thoughtfully, and her pen scratched at the paper. I 
was glad to have answered that one, mainly because I didn't trust Mulder 
to tell the truth in the best possible way. What had Emily Dickinson
written before--tell the truth but tell it slant?

"Well, yes. That was really my next concern. You two have had quite a
lot of these incidents. Agent Mulder has been kidnapped, shot, infected
with something that I can't begin to understand in the Arctic, while
Agent Scully has similar stories of shootings and infections and she was
even abducted for three months, and then later to Antarctica. Despite
the odd occurrence of polar trips twice in one lifetime, it concerns me as
to your safety, and ultimately the safety of this child."

I glanced to Mulder with a tight grimace of regret. Not for the things I
had done and experienced, but that this would be the thing to hinder us.
The work we strove to keep despite all else, the cases and answers that
meant so much to us. Was Mulder going to leave the X-Files for a baby
that had been left with him? Did he see that this was nuts?

"When it's just us, Ms. Carson, me and Scully, we know the risks we 
can take. The fact that we're still here, alive and sane after the things
we've gone through should tell you something. I won't disagree that this
is dangerous. But so is being a policeman, and I know plenty who have
kids. So is being a virologist, and I'm sure they have kids too. There
are even FBI agents we know who have kids. No one ever told them that
they couldn't, that they weren't safe enough."

Ms. Carson glanced to me, and I'm sure she could see the surprise and
pride on my face. I squeezed Mulder's hand and the smile I had didn't
fade as he glanced over at me.

"Well, I realize you feel strongly, Agent Mulder. And I know that
together, you have a better chance. But this is what our office does. We
evaluate, we judge, we have to make these hard decisions. We can't let
children be placed with bad parents; there are already enough of those."

I stopped smiling, feeling the sting of that in my soul. Bad parents. We
wouldn't be bad parents, I know it. But even the word, parents, made me
shiver.

Mulder was nodding again. "I know you must do your job, but so do we. 
Do you have a family?"

Ms. Carson hesitated, then nodded. "Two boys."

"Work takes you away from them?"

"Yes. As it does anyone who works."

"We work. I'm not denying that it would take us away from her. And I'm
not going to make empty promises to you about our safety. But Scully's
mother would be happy to take care of her if anything comes up, and for
that matter, I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind when the baby's older.
Plus, Scully has two brothers who have kids of their own. This baby
wouldn't be left without a family."

The woman glanced to her papers, shuffling them around. "I'm not trying
to be hard, Agents. I'm trying to be fair. This is the most difficult
part of the job, deciding. I know how hard it is to have kids and a job,
and I know that it can be done, even with jobs like yours. . .my husband
is police officer. We have weapons in our house, as I'm sure you must.
He's been shot before. He's usually working undercover. It doesn't mean
that he's an unfit parent, and it doesn't mean that you're unfit
parents."

Carson took a deep breath and placed her papers in a briefcase, her
teeth chewing on her bottom lip.

"But if I had to judge my husband, if I had to give over a baby to him,
I honestly don't know what would be the decision. It isn't my decision
to make, but usually, the panel takes my advice into consideration."

"And what's your advice?" I asked, feeling coils wind tightly inside of
me.

She looked at me for the first time since the beginning of the
interview, when she'd asked the most personal questions and had me
answer them in front of Mulder, just as I'd done with Emily but more
privately. I didn't like the regret in her eyes.

"It'd be different if you'd had. . .I'd recommend a stay."

"A stay? What's that?"

"A wait. If no one else comes looking for a baby girl, then you would
get her. It's sort of like being second on the list."

I sat back, letting Mulder walk her to the door, my eyes closed against
the look in her eyes, against the look in Mulder's. I'd known this would
happen, I had warned Mulder not to expect anything. It was a long shot.

And yet I was crumbling inside. I didn't know if it was because we
wouldn't get Emma or if it was because I'd been rejected twice to be a
mother. As if someone could put a qualitative price on something like
that. If I had a child, I would change. It happens. I know it does. 

Unfit.

"I'm sorry Scully."

He came and sat next to me, but I didn't want to feel him beside me
anymore. I stood up, opening my eyes to see where I had laid my coat.
Shrugging it on took more effort than I had so I draped it over my arm
and fought through a haze to get to his door. I wasn't going to cry.

Until Mulder's arms went around me and he pulled me so tight against 
him that I couldn't move. And then I cried, softly and silently, the tears
coasting down my cheeks as if I had just turned them on.

"I'm so sorry. If I had known, if I had even thought for a moment--"

"It's not your fault, Mulder."

"But it is, Scully. I owe you so much. . .you've stayed with me even
though you could have had all that. . .normalcy. You ought to be a
mother, Scully. You ought to."

Please stop Mulder. But I couldn't say it, not even when he was being so
warm, because on some level, his words made me feel better, knowing that
he thought I should be a mother. 

"You don't owe me anything, Mulder."

He shook his head and held me tighter, letting me bury my nose and eyes
in the crook where his arm joined to his chest. His hand came to smooth
my hair and I wished that something besides pain would bring us together
for once. 

I pulled away, eyes dry again although my cheeks were wet. He cradled my
face and stroked away the tears, shaking his head at me.

"I should go. My mom is expecting me for lunch."

"Have you told her about the baby?"

Maybe it was the way he said that, but my blood began to rush through my
veins and clamor through my heart. It cut and it touched gently, but I
just wrestled with my coat.

"Yeah, some. She wanted to take me out after this interview."

He took my coat and pulled it on me, up my arms and over my shoulders,
managing a simple task I could not seem to complete. He tugged on my
lapels and then leaned down to press his lips into mine. This whole
time, I had not once thought about this being a kissing moment.

It was light and sweet and ended as abruptly as it appeared. His lips
parted hesitantly, unsure of the smile, but I squeezed his fingers and
smiled gently back. I should encourage such things.

"Go eat with your Mom, Scully."

He pushed me out the door and winked, then watched as I walked down to
the elevators. When I turned around in the lift, he was waving and
closing his door. I shook my head as the doors closed with a clang and
the lift jerked to a start.

So we didn't get Emma. Or rather, we were waiting to get her, with the
chances being nil that no other couple would coming looking for a baby
girl.

I sighed and closed my eyes as the doors opened. A draft whirled around
me as soon as they did and I felt the chill in the air even though I was
still in Mulder's apartment building. Wind again, always encircling me
like a whirlwind, a funnel to sweep me away.

Maybe it would.

=-=-=

I went home with my mother and let her baby me all night, making my
favorite dinner and even adding rolls just for me. She sat down in the
couch and let me lay down with my head in her lap and close my eyes
while she smoothed her fingers over my forehead.

She traced the lines of my forehead and nose, and then circled her
finger around my ear and to my cheek. It felt good to have my mother's
touch and I wondered whether I would ever have a daughter who would want
my comfort. Right now I felt too incomplete, too childish to have a
daughter.

It scared me too. It scared me because I knew that my life would change
if I ever did have children, my life and Mulder's. At this point, I
couldn't see having a family with anyone but Mulder, even though I
didn't expect to ever have a family with Mulder. It was inconceivable
that there would be someone I could love enough to devote that kind of
time and energy to. Mulder was currently the only one who came close.
And it was just as inconceivable that Mulder and I would reach that
place.

I had to smile at that and Mom squeezed my shoulder, smiling back.

"Feeling better?"

"I guess so. Enough to wonder what Mulder's doing."

"You should invite him over. I bet he needs mothering more than you do."

I thought about that one for a long moment, remembering his mother. He
didn't like to impose upon her, or bother her, but I, on the other hand,
had no trouble asking things of my mother.

"I should," I said and reached for the phone.

=-=-=

Mulder came at eight o'clock with a goofy smile on his face and a box. I
wondered first what the smile was for, second why he was late, and then
lastly, in a sort of half-thought, why he was holding that box like it
contained proof of alien life.

My mother greeted him and took his coat, then led him into the kitchen
to grab the leftovers. Mulder heaped his plate high, smiling at me and
at Mom and then sitting down to eat.

Was he grinning like that because I had invited him over? If so, it took
pathetically little to make him content.

I thought about that for a moment, then sighed with the truth it. The
times when I had reached out to Mulder where the times he seemed most
unlike himself, more easy and open; less of the perpetually sad martyr
clung to him.

I nudged his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, silently asking him what
was up.

He held up a finger for me to wait, then finished eating, cleaning his
plate and even four rolls. My mother was sitting on the other side of
him and she watched with a smile at his appetite. My mother liked
cooking for men who liked eating.

"Guess what, Mrs. Scully?" he said, and I had this strange feeling that
something had happened.

"What's that Fox?"

"You're going to have another grandchild."

My mouth dropped open as Mulder turned to me with that goofy smile
again. I felt shell shocked, disbelieving, and I wanted to shake the
truth out of him, but I knew he was already telling the truth.

"When did that happen? How did it happen?"

"Scully, am I going to have to explain the birds and bees to you again?"

I blushed at that, ferociously too. I should have been looking for that
one.

My mother laughed of course, and hugged us both.

"Ms. Carson called and said that on the way back, she had decided to
just go ahead and support us a hundred percent. And when she presented
the case, it seems that someone had already gone to a lot of trouble to
sway votes, because we would have gotten her without her support."

"What?" I said, still shocked, still afraid, still *overjoyed*.

"They'd been told that Emma was supposed to go to us. That she belonged
to us."

My eyebrows rose and I halfway stood at the table, feeling wrong for
having gotten Emma like this. With *his* help. 

"Scully-"

"I just. . ."

I sat back down and folded my hands over my lap, feeling rattled and
nervous.

"We can go get her tonight."

"Tonight?"

He nodded and I realized that the box was in his hands again, held
tightly in his nervousness. He looked over at my Mom and I looked over
at her too. She was nodding at him and I had this feeling that they'd
planned something and not involved me.

Or maybe it was about me.

Mulder took my hand and led me out of the kitchen, my mother busying
herself with the dishes. He glanced around the living room then shook
his head and opened the front door. I could feel the cold from the
winter night seeping through the storm door.

He pushed it open and tugged me outside after him, despite the thin
sweater I had on and my socked feet. Mulder's eyes traveled to the stars
and I glanced up too, wondering what exactly was going on. Was he going
to tell me that I could see Emma only on weekends or something? I hadn't
thought about the arrangements before, but I hadn't thought we had a
chance back then.

I saw movement from the corner of my eye and I turned back to him, only
to see that he was on one knee in the grass, tugging on my hand.
Confused, I thought he was looking for something.

And then the box was in his hands and he was opening it and I couldn't
breathe, couldn't breathe to save my life.

"Marry me, Scully. Not because of Emma, not because we're stuck
together, but because I love you and you make me a better, whole
person."

It was all jumbled and fast because he was trying to get everything out
before I could say no. I didn't want to say no.

I dropped down to his level, amused that he was shorter than me for
once, and kissed his lips.

"Was that a yes?" he whispered.

"Yes. yes," I whispered and closed my eyes to his hug, the arms that
wrapped so tight around me, the kisses in my hair and neck and eyes and
nose. I was clutching his shirt and feeling the wind whip around us,
warm even though the air and night was cold. 

He pulled back enough to slip the thin rose-gold band on my finger, its
softness and color matching my skin like the swirls of color in a peach.
He kissed me again and I pushed back into his arms, feeling a bit of the
chill when held away from him.

"Did my mother know about this?" I asked, nosing his shirt.

"Well. . .about three months ago I asked her if it was okay if were
together."

"Mulder, three months ago. . .we weren't together until about a minute
ago."

"Yeah," he laughed and shook his head. "But I felt that your mom ought
to know that I was thinking along those lines. And I sort of hoped that
if she knew something, she'd tell me. Like if you hated the idea, she'd
let me down easy."

I laughed and shook my head. "I'm cold. Let's go inside and get our
coats."

"Then we'll go get our baby," he said and I couldn't help but shiver.

=-=-=

Part Three

=-=-=
April 1, 2000
=-=-=

Mulder held Emma while I filled out all the forms, writing names and
dates and history in the blanks where each was required. I penned her
name and felt a little quiver of anticipation thrill through me. We had
to think of a birthday for her and a middle name and it took a while.

I realized that today was April the first and Mulder had asked me to
marry him on April Fool's day. It somehow seemed cosmically fitting and
I had to smile. Not once had I thought it might be a joke, and I was
glad it was not.

"I know," Mulder said suddenly. "Since she was left to us in early
March, how about that as her middle name?"

Emma March. It didn't sound as bad as I first thought, and Mulder looked
hopefully at me, his arms full of baby. I nodded and penciled it in,
just a bit worried that we were deciding and would have to decide
everything for this little girl. We just picked out her name. She could
hate us for it later.

"The doctors think she's about eight months old." I said.

He nodded. "So, counting backward, that would be. . .August?"

I counted under my breath and frowned. "Uh, yeah. August."

"August 3, 1999," he said and I glanced up at him.

"Why the third?"

"Because it was March 3rd when--"

"Oh. That's good. Since she didn't exist to us before the third, that
can be her birth date."

Mulder nodded happily and I finished writing it all out, then left the
little room to find the social worker. I gave the sheets to her and she
said she would call us back in when everything was in order. I walked
back down the halls, looking in at the children either sleeping or
playing in the children's home. Most were older kids in this section and
I wondered if they would ever be adopted.

The little receiving room where Mulder and Emma were in was at the end
of a long hall filled with rooms, three of which had open doors. I
glanced inside one and saw three little boys building a fort out of
large cardboard blocks painted to look like bricks. I remembered my
brothers having those same blocks as kids.

One looked up at me and the hope that flittered across his face made me
want to take him home, but I knew that wouldn't happen, and it wasn't
practical. Of course, we'd said that about Emma too. . .

I shook myself out of the mood and went back to Mulder and Emma, sitting
next to them on the low black couch. Emma was in the crook of Mulder's
arm, almost too big to be cradled like that, but enjoying it anyway. I
watched him play with her and thought that he would be a better father
than I would be a mother.

=-=-=
April (late) 2000
=-=-=

The cathedral was grand with arches and paintings and statues. All the
saints were there: Paul and Peter and Matthew with his collecting bowl.
Madonna stood in one of the alcoves with her baby Jesus and I felt an
awful lot like her. Chosen to be a mother to a baby, married after it
all.

Mulder was nervous and I knew he would be, but my mother wouldn't let me
go see him and Tara kept saying it was bad luck. So I figured that
Mulder and I didn't need anymore bad luck. Mom reported that Mulder had
cracked open a window to get fresh air. I wanted to laugh but didn't,
feeling sorry for him.

Mom kept Emma away from my dress because the girl liked to grab for
things, but I blew kisses at her to keep her happy. The dress was white
with a fitted bodice and a skirt that accentuated my small hips and gave
me curves I didn't know I had. Usually I filled out my work suits rather
nicely, but this was beyond. I was glad for it because I thought Mulder
deserved to see me in something more, something elegant.

Lace adorned the sleeves in an old-fashioned manner that somehow didn't
contrast with the modern look of it, and the lace was the same pattern
in my veil and it fell across the skirt. I almost felt embarrassed,
getting all dressed up like this and making such a big deal about it.

My mother loved it though and I felt happy for her joy. I just wanted to
marry Mulder.

April 26. . .it seemed so wrong to be this formal, almost as if Mulder
and I were married already and this was like we wanted to play at
dress-up. It didn't really make sense, but as I held on to Mulder's
hand, it was okay.

By the time Mulder and I were standing in the reception line, nervously
done with all the ceremony and vows and pictures and cake, I was ready
to kick off my heeled shoes and sleep for ages. But the music started
and my mother was looking at me expectantly and I realized that my
father wasn't here to dance with me.

Mulder took my hand and led us out into midst of a sea of people,
nervous but determined, and then eased me into his body to begin the
dance. We moved together like eddies in the sea, back and forth, giving
and taking, and I knew that this was Mulder's own little tribute to my
father. And I loved him more for it.

I saw my mother with Emma and wished we were all at home, whichever 
home that was, with hot chocolate and a fire. In my dream, Emma would 
be still on my lap, leaning against me, but I knew that in reality, she was
a squirmer and would be begging to get down.

I watched Mulder's face as he caught sight of Emma and when the dance
ended and people could fill up the spaces, he was pulling me towards
her, a grin in his eyes. The crowd was watching us in bewilderment, but
Mulder picked Emma up and cradled her between us, a soft heat against
me.

She was still, which was a miracle, and we didn't drop her while we
danced, which was still more a miracle. My mother said to me later that
everyone was talking about how sweet we looked, but if I had known they
were talking about us, I would have been embarrassed. Not because of the
love, but because I'd never been so public about it before.

I could feel a soft breeze along my neck as we danced together, and even
as the crowd moved around us, the coolness of it wafted at my ankles and
my hands and my face like a balm. Someone must have left the windows
open to combat the body heat and heating system. It felt good and I
could have fallen asleep.

It seemed that the breeze followed me wherever we danced.

=-=-=
July 2000
=-=-=

The grey day washed away with the rain, allowing the sun to linger over
everything for the last hours it was in the sky. Mulder was outside my
apartment door, banging the numbers back into their places. I thought he
was a curse on door numbers. Mine never had this problem before.

Emma watched the birds making nests on our ledge with those dark eyes 
of a child. She tottered on two good legs with her arms stretched for the
window pane, but she never reached out for the last grip that would
ensure her safety. She liked taking those risks, liked even more the
pleasure of making it somewhere on her own. No doubt she would be
walking at an early age.

She was really our girl. 

I glanced over at the kitchen to sigh at the dinner dishes still left to
do, then sipped at the milk in my glass before I stood again. Emma
spotted me coming toward her in the window and glanced back with a grin.
She knew I was coming for bath time and her stubby hands banged against
the window in delight.

I grabbed her up quickly and tapped on the front door. Mulder opened it
quickly and glanced at me, his cheeks and chin rough with stubble. I
wished he would shave, but I had to admit that the rugged look was good
on him. He leaned down to kiss Emma and she squealed, clapping her hands
against his cheeks. 

I smiled with the sudden knowledge. Mulder hadn't shaved because Emma
loved the scratchiness; why hadn't he just told me that? I kissed the
hollow of his throat, the one place I could reach without standing on my
tiptoes, then moved for the bathroom.

"Emma, girl. Bath time."

She wiggled in my arms as I undressed her, watching the water thunder
into the tub like a Niagara waterfall in baby-size. On my lap like she
was, Emma could see right over and into the water, but if she were on
the ground she couldn't see. It was the only way I could keep her still
at all.

"Mum-ma..." she said and bounced in my arms. I had given up on trying to
get her to say Momma. She liked the way the 'mum' sound popped from her
mouth. She also liked to scream Daddeee....all the way across the
parking lot or in the Hoover building when we took her in to the
daycare.

"Water," I told her and splashed some on her cheeks. She blinked and
applauded me, then rocked forward again. I slipped her diaper off and
tossed it in the trash can, then carefully set her on a towel on the
floor.

She pouted, but waited while I undressed, biding her time by playing
with the buttons on my shirt or the zipper on my jeans. When I was
unclothed, she held up her arms and I gathered her to me, then stepped
into the tub.

Because of the sloping porcelain and the cracks and the high water, I
took a bath with Emma usually, balancing her on my knees to wash her,
then cupping my hands and wetting her hair. She didn't like the shampoo
and twisted in my lap, and no matter how many times I told her to stay
still, she turned her head at the last moment to get the soapy water in
her eyes.

I remembered the day Mulder and I had been filling the tub for her first
bath ever with us. She was so tiny, and really still is, but I just
assumed we could bathe her the same way my parents did us when we were
little. But the high walls of my club-foot tub were too much for my
short arms, and Mulder had ended up trying to hold her still while I
tried to reach in and wash her clean. Needless to say, this method was
much easier.

Emma patted my stomach and I smiled at her, sticking my tongue out. The
scar across my belly was pretty much healed, only a little tender. I
watched Emma's mouth opened and she tried to mimic me, so I thought
better of the tongue and wrinkled my nose to make her giggle.

"What do you want to play today?" I asked her and she bounced in my lap
again.

"We can be princesses sent to the royal tub to wash up for the prince.
You like that Emma-girl?"

She looked at me funny, her nose wrinkling, and I laughed, which made
her laugh.

"Okay, you don't like that one. How about we're hiding in a lake to keep
the. . .the bees from finding us, just like Winnie the Pooh."

"Pooh! Pooh!" she yelled and splashed water into my eyes. 

"All right, Pooh," I said and cradled her against my propped up legs
while I rubbed my stinging eyes. "We'll hide from the bees."

"Bzzz...."

I grinned at her, surprised. "That's right. Bees buzz...."

"Bzzz..."

"Now, we have to get the soap and lather it up and make us all clean so
that the bees don't know it's us."

Emma twisted in my lap and shook her head back and forth, well-versed in
this night time ritual. She knew shampoo came after the soap, and she
knew that bedtime came last of all. Emma was going through a 'no-bed'
phase, as she put it.

"Watch, Emma-jean. It's fun." I said, and squirted the soap between my
fingers. It seemed that I used my imagination more this kid than I ever
had *as* a kid. She needed constant distraction from the reality of the
bath, and I had to provide those distractions.

I lathered my arms and chest and stomach, then reached and tickled her
with the soap, lathering her up as well. She was slippery like this, and
I had to hold onto her more carefully because she had a tendency to
wriggle.

"There, all soaped up."

"And don't you two look good!"

My head and Emma's swiveled to see Mulder standing in the doorway,
winking at me with her. I felt a blush heat my face and turned to Emma
with a frown.

"He needs to learn how to knock, right Emma-girl?"

"Knock!" she said and nodded her head, hard so that she slithered off my
legs and into the water. I grabbed her quick and settled her back onto
my lap.

"Emma agrees with me," I said and glanced back to Mulder. Married more
than three months and I was still blushing and he was still loving to
surprise me. He came in and sat on the toilet, looking down at us in our
soapy skin and warm bath. My shoulders had goosebumps and he smoothed 
a finger down the bone.

I shivered and Emma grinned like the Daddy's girl she was, then held out
her hands to him.

"Oh no, girl. You're all wet."

Her pout seemed to say, "but you love me anyway," and Mulder had a hard
time shaking his head no. I smiled and he leaned over to kiss me, his
fingers threading through my pony tail and stroking the wet ends of my
hair.

"I fixed your door numbers."

The way he said it made me frown, and I realized that this was still
just my apartment, and Mulder's was still his apartment. Three months of
sharing had not changed anything really, only now he could kiss me
without asking and I could wear his T-shirts. 

"Thank you."

He nodded and grabbed a towel to dry his hands, watching me in the tub
with Emma. I wished he would feel more relaxed here, and I wished I felt
more relaxed when we were all together at his place, but that was the
cost of only three months married but seven years partnered.

We'd had a rough time with the X-Files at first, especially during some
hectic cases in June, where I had gotten the second scar on my stomach
and Mulder had a new scar on his thigh. But that was the official part
and we still weren't all clear on the personal part.

Mulder suddenly shook his head and kneeled down on the floor beside the
tub, resting his chin on the ledge to look in my eyes. He looked like a
lost puppy and I reached out to run a sudsy finger down his cheek,
smiling softly and wondering if he was regretting anything.

"Have you shampooed her hair?" he asked and I shook my head.

"I'll do it. You hold her."

I wanted to warn him that he'd get all wet, that his jeans would be
soaked and his shoes ruined, but I saw that, in his eyes, he was tired
of caring about things like that. It made me feel alive to see it, made
me grateful he was giving in. Giving in? No, maybe just letting go. I
wanted us to live together, in a proper house, with baths we shared and
diapers and laughs. I wanted to know that I wouldn't have to pack
everything and live at Mulder's place for a month when I saw that he was
getting tired and frustrated with living at my place.

I sat up and faced Emma towards me so that she would be calmer when
Mulder washed her hair. Her small hands covered mine and she watched 
as her father squeezed the Johnson's baby shampoo into his hand. The
fascination on her face made me hurt, and I realized we hadn't been a
real family for all these three months. We were a slipshod, pieced
together family with no real home and no real way of being comfortable
with each other.

"Things have to change," Mulder said, his hands thick with lather and
baby hair. I was holding a hand over Emma's forehead to keep the suds
out when he said this.

"Yes."

"It shouldn't be a surprise to you when I come in and see you naked."

I blushed again, despite the truth of his statement, and my blush proved
his words all the more. He sighed and rinsed his hands in the water,
looking down at Emma's soapy head and dark eyes.

He laughed at the sight and Emma wrinkled her nose, then slapped at the
water. I grinned when Mulder jerked back, soaked and too late to save
his shoes. When he pushed back to the edge of the tub he tapped Emma's
nose and made a face at her. He rinsed her hair carefully, making sure
all the soap was gone and then beamed.

"There are some other things that need to change," he said. I was amazed
at how calm he could be, how funny with Emma while holding a very
serious conversation with me. My concentration wasn't that good and Emma
slipped and splashed down into the water again, soaking Mulder once
more.

"Oops," I said and picked her back up, shaking my head at her laugh.

He grinned slyly and flicked water at me, making me gasp just like Emma
did.

"From now on, I should be in the bath to supervise all water play," he
said, mocking the seriousness of before. "And you, Emma-girl, ought to
be no less surprised when I wash your hair and manage to not get any
soap in your eyes. It can be done."

Emma laughed, almost as if she didn't believe it, then reached out and
pulled Mulder's lips with her fingers, working at them until she tapped
against his teeth. I smiled and thought about us, about Emma and me and
Mulder all together for a change. Really being together.

"And we should get an apartment for all of us," I said.

Mulder looked over at me, surprised, which let Emma grab a fistful of
his hair and pull him nearly into the bathtub. I quickly disentangled
Emma's grip from Mulder's poor head and shook my head at her, saying no.
Mulder rubbed his sore head and frowned.

"I sort of thought you wanted to keep both places." 

I gaped at him, then closed my mouth to consider my answer. "No. Do you
want to keep both places?"

He saw the underlying fear in my heart and words and eyes and he shook
his head softly. "I was letting you have. . .an out. Just in case."

I sighed. "Mulder, you know me better than that. I have what I want,
except, for some reason, we end up shuttling back and forth between your
place and mine. We need an 'our' place."

His lips quirked at me and I recognized that this was one of the more
meaningful smiles than what I usually got from him. Almost as if he was
discovering a new thing and didn't know whether or not he should feel
smiles or gratitude.

I leaned over and pressed my lips into the underside of his jaw, then
against his cheek even with its stubble, and then on to his lips,
running my tongue on his mouth to open it. He responded with intensity
and swept me away in the flood of his excitement, letting me ride the
waves and drown in his undertow.

When we drew apart, Emma was watching us, completely still and
completely calm.

"That's the first time you've kissed me," he said, stroking my cheek.

I turned surprised eyes on him and shook my head. "No. I've kissed you
lots of times. I kissed you in the hall before Emma's bath-"

"No. That was an acknowledgment. This was a fire, a real emotion. I
haven't felt that from you without my starting it, Scully. That's why I
thought you wanted to keep both apartments."

I felt the tears in my eyes and didn't even try to blink them away.
Sometimes I forgot just how much Mulder needed affirmation, needed to
know that it was equal between us--that I wanted to be here as much as
he did. In partnership and now in marriage. He might have been right
too, but I had never been a tactile person, had never been the type of
woman who touched and initiated and got close. Mulder was that person,
and my normal behavior didn't seem as real to him as true proof of my
love.

"You may start it Mulder, but it doesn't mean it's not there, always,
right below the surface. And it is there. You'll just have to teach me
to let it bubble up from time to time."

He leaned forward and put his forehead to mine, caressing the strands of
my hair that were dark and wet on my neck. Emma reached up and tugged 
on Mulder's elbow, causing him to slip and we bumped heads and all 
seemed to be well again.

"Hey, Emma-girl. Let's rinse you off and dry you off and cart you off!"
Mulder said.

"Cart her off?"

"To bed."

I grinned and held Emma up to the blue towel in Mulder's hands, watching
as he rubbed her dry, being gentle on her head and bundling her warmly
in the huge linen. I stepped out and grabbed my own towel, wrapping it
around myself. Mulder handed me Emma and I cradled her close to me as
she shivered, and we all trooped into the living room to put on her
pajamas. 

When she was tucked into the crib and smelling of baby powder and soap,
Mulder and I leaned into each other's arms and closed our eyes, just
feeling the goodness of life, the rich blessing of our little girl.

=-=-=-=
August
=-=-=-=

Sitting now, before this mirror in our bigger apartment with the broken
air conditioner, I watch the baby smile and wave her hands, her smile
like sunlight and joy. She wriggles in my arms and I hold her up,
letting her little legs work against my thighs as she tries to stand.

I look at the mirror again, then stand up, the baby tucked into my hip.
I walk through to the bathroom, and then to the closet, which is
connected off the bathroom. My jeans are in the dirty clothes hamper,
but I fish them out and smile as the baby laughs at me. A soft black
cotton shirt calls to me and I pull it off the hanger.

Coming back into the bedroom, I lay the baby in the middle of the bed,
dropping my clothes beside her. She grabs for my shirt but I hand her
the jeans and she sticks them in her mouth.

I guess they weren't that dirty.

I turn to the dresser, one ear out for the baby, and pull out bra and
underwear, deciding against socks. It's too hot outside now. The bra
feels tight, and the underwear loose, but I can't really do much about
that. I've worn all the others and I don't feel like doing laundry
again.

I turn to the baby and tickle her toes as she chews on my jeans. When
she grins I grab them and hand her a teething ring, laughing at the
bewildered look on her face.

"Mommy tricked you, didn't she?"

I glance over my shoulder to see Mulder standing there, watching me
appreciatively in just my underwear and bra. He comes inside, shutting
the door with his heel, and circles his arms around me as I straighten
up.

"Mommy didn't trick her. . ." I say, smiling as he watches the baby over
my shoulder. "Mommy was trying to get dressed."

"Well, looks like I interrupted just in time."

I mock roll my eyes at him and slip away, pulling on my jeans and shirt
in record time.

"Watch her," I say and run back into the closet for my sandals and a bit
of makeup and mascara. It helps keep the sun from baking me when we're
outside all day.

When I come back into the bedroom Mulder is glancing at the clock and
then his watch, absently tugging on the teething ring.

"I have to check on the chicken," he says and runs out. I let him,
knowing that his chicken on the grill is worth the time away.

Looking back to the baby I smile and pick her up, cuddling her into my
arms. She smells like soft skin and baby and my scented lotion that
dissolves into the bathwater with the bubbles. She likes the bubbles
best.

I move to the bathroom again, rooting around in the closet dresser for
her summer clothes. We ought to move her things out of our bedroom, 
but we just moved and I am tired of moving. The baby clutches me as I 
pull out a sundress. It has a teddy bear on the straps where buttons 
would go, and it Velcros and snaps around the diaper. It's easy to put 
on and comfortable.

Laying the baby back on the bed, I smooth lotion onto her belly, not a
lot but a little bit for the coolness of it. I know she doesn't feel very 
well in the heat, especially teething, but there's no way to fix the air 
conditioner until next week. 

"Hey, sweet, let's get your dress on, okay?"

She gurgles at me and I make quick work of the task, loving how still
she is, how complacent and happy without having to move. It's a
wonderful change. And she's now in the sundress in under five minutes. 
I know that if Mulder turns the sprinkler on to cool us off, she'll be
okay sitting in the spray. The sundress isn't that important.

Pulling her up but her hands and then swinging her into my arms, I make
her laugh, her eyes bright and blue like the sky. Grabbing the teething
ring and sticking it in her mouth, I smile at her.

"Come on Amaris, let's go find your sister and your daddy."

I shut the bedroom door behind me, trying to keep in the breeze and cool
off our room. In the tiny living room I can feel the wind through the
screens, light and soft, a touch of love from God. Amaris snuggles into
my arms and her teething ring drops.

Emma darts from the back bedroom and grabs it for me, her grin like a
sunny day and her hair getting lighter from being outside so much. She
has golden skin and freckles across her nose which always peels no
matter how much sunblock I apply. She takes my hand and pulls me 
ahead, her three year old enthusiasm making me laugh.

I see Mulder at the door to the back porch waving us on with his
barbecue brush. No doubt he's splattering it everywhere, but I don't
have it in me to be mad at him.

We get outside and I see that my mother is already here, and my brother
Charlie with his kids. Bill and Tara even flew down from California, but
are thankfully staying with my Mom. Emma sees the balloons and cake and
presents and jumps up and down.

"It's my birthday!" she yells and darts for the table.

Mulder kisses my cheek and tickles Amaris so that she shies in my arms
like a spooked horse. She is so different from Emma as a baby. I hand
her off to my mom and watch Emma bounce in her chair. 

It's amazing to me how things can change.

I feel a breeze run through us all, and the gentleness of it eases the
heat and my heart. Things change, but the wind is constant, steadying,
reassuring, pressuring. It reminds me of God's promises of both
destruction and joy, ruin and comfort.

Mulder and I have had both in our lives, but this wind wraps us all
around in the wings of love and faith and truth. I hope that we impart
this to our girls over everything, this mighty wind of love.

=-=-=-=

end all
adios
RM