Chapter 4a: Fear 
 
====headers and disclaimers in Ch.1==== 
 
Scully's reply shows up the very next day. 
 
"I'm physically shaking right now seeing your words..." 
 
Oh, Scully.  What you've just done to me with those words... 
 
"...wishing it were you speaking them to me..." 
 
Even though I'm sure she's laying it on thick for the 
watchers, that's quite an admission for Scully to make. 
It warms me and frightens me in equal parts.  She's so 
vulnerable where she is.  I know she's brave, and I know 
she's capable, but I wish she didn't have to go through 
this alone. 
 
"...I want so badly to see you, too..." 
 
Scully, if it's half as much as I want to see you, we 
could light up DC with our need... 
 
"...but you are still not safe here..." 
 
That's going to change, and soon. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
It takes a couple of days to work out the details, but 
the whole time, I'm on the road, heading back toward 
DC.  Scully's initial email is non-committal, but I 
know that in a day or so I'll be getting the one I'm 
expecting. 
 
I've already been in touch with the Gunmen.  They've 
been doing a little monitoring themselves.  They've 
told me what Doggett told Scully, and what he's found 
out so far. 
 
When Scully's next email comes, I'm ready. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
It's like watching a train wreck, I think as I see the 
action unfold like a silent movie.  I see Scully's head 
turn, her mouth open and her eyes wide as she sees the 
train barely slow on its way through the station. 
 
Exactly like a train wreck.  If Scully had been standing 
next to me, I would have said something like that to her, 
making a joke at my own expense.  What else can I do? 
 
Right now, I have to deal with the sudden change in plans. 
I'd intended to meet Scully, and work out a meeting with 
the mystery man.  I should have known that he would make 
his own plans.  I already have my suspicions about *what* 
he is.  This seems to confirm it. 
 
The conductor's voice over the PA breaks into my thoughts. 
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're sorry for the change in plans. 
We'll be making an unscheduled stop for a few minutes, but 
we should arrive at our next stop close to on time.  For 
those who expected to detrain at the last stop, we will 
have a chartered bus standing by to get you back to the 
station." 
 
I find the car attendant.  "Can you tell me why we didn't 
stop?" 
 
He shakes his head.  I expected this.  What's he going to 
tell me, there's been a shooting?  Besides, I've had my 
face glued to the window for several miles now.  As we 
neared the station, I could make out some of what happened. 
I saw the man leap, and I felt the thump of impact.  I saw 
a man go down on the platform. 
 
"Was that your stop?"  The attendant asks. 
 
I nod. 
 
"I'm sorry, but we'll get you back there as soon as possible. 
The station master'll let anyone waiting know." 
 
"Where are we right now?"  I ask.  "And why are we stopping?" 
 
"We have to let a freight train go by, and there's a siding 
here at the quarry."  The attendant gives me an impersonal 
smile and starts to walk away. 
 
"Excuse me, do you mean Manville Quarry?" 
 
"Yes, sir. Should be coming up on your right, but I don't 
think you can see much this time of night."  He smiles 
again, and goes about his business. 
 
It's a risk, asking him about the quarry, but now I see my 
luck hasn't entirely deserted me. 
 
If the mystery man was at the station, he knows I'm on this 
train.  If I get off, he'll follow me. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
It's a damn party out here.  I hear a familiar voice as I 
run through the quarry, looking for the man I now know to 
be a super soldier.  My plan, such as it is, is to lure 
him into the quarry, and see if what I've seen and read 
is really true.  If it isn't, I'm probably screwed. 
 
If Doggett is here, I'm sure Scully can't be far away, 
either.  No way would she let him come alone.  There's a 
woman standing next to him, but she's too tall.  Agent 
Reyes, probably. 
 
And then, I hear Scully.  "Mulder?" 
 
She calls again, desperation edging her voice.  It's all 
I can do to keep from running to her.  But at that moment, 
my attention is caught by someone else.  Heading not for 
me, but for Scully. 
 
I've already stepped out of my hiding place, ready to lure 
him away from her.  I'm far enough away that I can hear 
her voice but not the words, or the man's low reply.  He 
takes a few steps closer.  Scully is shouting at him, but 
he continues to advance.  My muscles tense, ready to leap 
into the open and distract him from Scully. 
 
Then, it happens.  He starts to shake, and his skin looks 
like it's burning from the inside out.  He practically 
flies into Scully, knocking her down as he is pulled by 
an unseen force.  He explodes against a seam of reddish 
rock in the quarry wall.  Exactly like iron filings to 
a magnet. 
 
I see Scully running away from me, into the mist.  I do 
not follow her. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
"How you doin', man?" 
 
I look up from my drink, and realize that I'm not hearing 
things; it really is Frohike. 
 
He arranged to meet me in this seedy bar.  I've been sitting 
here for an hour, replaying the sound of Scully's voice in 
my head, and the brief look I had of her. 
 
"Been better," I say.  I've had years of practice schooling 
my face, but Frohike knows me very well. 
 
He pats my shoulder awkwardly.  "Everyone's okay.  I heard 
the thing went the way we thought." 
 
I nod.  "Yeah, well, we know a little more than we did 
before.  But we don't know enough."  I don't want to face 
this, but I have to.  "I can't come home yet, can I?' 
 
Frohike shakes his head.  "But you're gonna have some 
company soon." 
 
I'm already disagreeing.  "I can't ask Scully to leave 
now.  I'm not settled anywhere, I have nothing to offer 
her, and besides --" 
 
"Give me a minute, man.  *We* have a plan."  Frohike grins 
a little.  "You know that little bit of research you asked 
us to do?  That little bit of technology you needed? 
Well,"  Frohike really grins now, "we got it." 
 
I know what he's talking about.  A chip.  *The* chip. 
"Please tell me you're not kidding," I say. 
 
"I'm not, I swear on Langly's mom's grave." 
 
"She's not dead." 
 
"Exactly."  Frohike signals for a beer.  "We'll tell Scully 
about it, and let her decide when.  But we've gotta go soon." 
 
This is the first I've heard that the Gunmen plan to leave, 
too.  I should have realized it long before, but I guess I 
was more focused on my own plans than theirs.  Frohike 
explains that they've been making plans all along, same 
as me. 
 
"We have a place just outside St. Paul," he says.  "We've 
had it for a while, and we think it could make a nice base 
of operations.  And you're welcome, of course, as is Scully. 
In fact, we think it's probably the best place to go. 
Especially since we've discovered that some of the land 
nearby has some special qualities." 
 
"What is it, a giant economy sized warehouse?"  I ask, 
deadpan. 
 
"No, it's a software company.  It's been our hobby for a 
while.  Had to do something with the money from FPS." 
 
"And I thought you invested it all in that film company." 
 
"Go ahead and laugh, Mulder, but that's been a money-maker, 
too." 
 
"Yeah, I guess porn films never go out of style.  I just 
didn't think you could stand being a silent partner." 
 
"They're `erotic art films,' man.  Mulder, if you don't 
knock it off..." 
 
"Okay, okay," I concede.  It's been so long since I've 
talked to a friend.  I'm enjoying this, despite the 
seriousness of the situation. 
 
"Aren't you going to ask about the special features of 
the land there?"  Frohike says. 
 
I give him a grin of my own and recite,  "It's located in 
the middle of the largest source of naturally occurring 
iron ore in the United States." 
 
Frohike gives me a high-five.  "And I thought you were 
just another pretty face." 
 
"What, you thought I didn't read all that crap you sent 
me?" 
 
Our meeting is over too soon.  Frohike promises to keep 
in touch.  "Usual channels," he says.  "Might be best to 
communicate to Scully through us, too." 
 
I shake my head.  "They may think I'm dead now, but I 
should avoid getting in touch with her anyway.  I don't 
want to put her in any more danger." 
 
Frohike nods.  "We'll keep an eye on her, and let you 
know what the plan is.  Where are you going?" 
 
"I still have some things to check out," I say.  "Let me 
know when you're on the move.  And what Scully decides." 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
Not even a month later, I get word.  The Gunmen have left 
DC.  I think that means Scully has said yes to their plan, 
though they don't actually say that. 
 
I haven't tried to get in touch with Scully.  In a weak 
moment, I checked my "trust_no1" account and found the 
message she sent to me right after the quarry incident. 
My hand hovered over the reply key for quite a while, but 
in the end, I didn't do it. 
 
I've been in Arizona for a while.  It's the last place on 
the Fox Mulder Abduction Tour that I have to check out. 
Scully said she "felt" me here.  Doggett said he saw me, 
though Scully and Skinner both knew the impostor for 
what he was. 
 
I check out the school where Gibson Praise hid out.  Or 
rather, what used to be the school.  It looks like it 
burned down in the not too distant past.  Scully says 
Gibson is somewhere safe, but I wonder.  They seem to 
find a way to get to everyone else; what chance does a 
young boy have?  Even one with the special gifts that 
Gibson has. 
 
I worry that whether he's "special" or not, that William 
will be condemned to the kind of life Gibson has.  Never 
feeling safe, never able to experience the things a normal 
kid takes for granted.  I'll do my best to keep that from 
happening.  I wonder again if my father made the same vow; 
that maybe he never intended that either Samantha or I 
would be touched by what he did. 
 
In any event, there's nothing left to find or to feel here. 
I seem to have worked through the worst of my abduction 
issues, at least for now.  I don't sleep any better at 
night, but at least I'm not dreaming of drills and waking 
up screaming. 
 
I wonder how soon I can expect to hear that Scully is on her 
way. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
Another month passes.  I've been checking out old meteor 
crash sites both in person and over the Internet.  I'm 
interested in the mineral composition as well as the places 
they crashed.  I've got quite a database now. 
 
I'm in Manson, Iowa, when I get an email telling me that 
Scully has left DC for parts unknown.  That's my signal to 
start heading for Minnesota. 
 
I take my time, wandering around the Midwest, checking out 
different places I've read about:  old abduction sites, 
places where people were returned, other phenomena that 
might be significant.  I even pay a visit to Lake Okobogee 
while I'm in Iowa. 
 
Frohike told me that it might be awhile before they can 
bring Scully and William in; they have to test the viability 
of their countermeasures before they even tell her where her 
ultimate destination is.  I wasn't very happy to hear that, 
but even I had to see the sense in it.  All I want is to 
 know that Scully and William are safe. 
 
Frohike had urged me to make my own arrival as quickly as 
possible.  "You've been safe out there so far, but I 
wouldn't tempt fate, if you know what I mean," he said. 
"I don't want to be the one to explain to Scully that 
you've gone missing again." 
 
I just don't want to be cooped up somewhere, waiting for 
her.  I'd rather be out, doing what I can to find answers. 
 
Every day, as arranged, I make the rounds of the lists to 
see if there's an update on Scully's whereabouts.  The 
operative word is "homecoming." 
 
I'm not far from St. Paul when I see the word I've been 
waiting for, and I don't waste any time. 
 
Frohike has arranged to meet me in Minneapolis, rather 
than give me directions to their new place.  Paranoid to 
the last, I think.  No one has followed me; of that I'm 
certain.  I have no tracking chips, either.  I guess 
the watchers figure that they'll never have to keep tabs 
on me as long as they know where Scully is. 
 
I smile as I see Frohike waiting outside the Metrodome. 
I'm hoping that he might even have them with him.  He's 
standing by himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't 
in the car.  He looks different.  His hair is trimmed, 
and he's clean-shaven.  He's almost respectable looking. 
Not quite like Byers, but you wouldn't look at him funny. 
I probably look like a hobo in comparison. 
 
My smile fades as he doesn't return it.  I feel my gut 
tighten.  Something is wrong. 
 
"Spill it," I say without preamble.  "What's going on?" 
 
"We've lost Scully," Frohike says reluctantly. 
 
It's all I can do not to lose it.  "You WHAT?"  I can't 
help but shout. 
 
"Easy, Mulder, don't make it worse than it is.  Let's get 
going and I'll fill you in on the details." 
 
He leads the way to a van that's a cut above their old 
Volkswagen.  Not new, but plain and unobtrusive.  Once 
we're in, I demand,  "How could you lose them?  What 
the hell happened?" 
 
"We're still trying to figure it out, Mulder," Frohike 
says.  "One minute she was there, fast asleep in her 
apartment with William, and the next minute she was gone." 
 
My gut is really painful now.  "Were they -- were they --" 
 
"Taken?  Not by aliens, if that's what you mean.  And 
whoever did it used her car." 
 
"Where was she?" 
 
"In Des Moines, for the past month or so.  We had a friend 
keeping an eye on her."  I can hardly believe it; I spent 
all that time in Iowa and never once visited Des Moines. 
Oh, life's little ironies. 
 
"Your friend did a great job, didn't he?"  I snap.  "What'd 
he do?  Stalk her?  Scare her away?  Or just watch her get 
snatched under his nose?" 
 
"For your information, Mulder, *she* made sure that Scully 
never knew who she was.  She's good at disguises.  She hardly 
took her attention away, day or night.  Whatever happened 
took place in a very short window of time." 
 
"Do you mean she was being surveiled?"  I'm really pissed 
at this, almost as much as I'm pissed at the fact that 
she's gone missing.  "You guys were *watching* her?  The 
whole time?" 
 
Frohike nods reluctantly.  "Not inside her place, only doors 
and windows.  I'm sure Scully understands." 
 
"Well, you can explain it to her when we find her."  I won't 
allow for any other possibility.  We will find her.  *I* 
will find her. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
When we pull up to the outside gate of Lodestone, Inc., I'm 
impressed in spite of myself.  It looks like a legitimate 
business, very upscale by the Gunmen's usual standards. 
Frohike had told me it was a software company, but I 
figured it was some little mail order operation somewhere 
in the warehouse district.  Instead, it's in the greenbelt 
corporate park area of St. Paul.  Talk about hiding in 
plain sight. 
 
We drive around to the loading dock area and Langly and 
Byers are waiting for us. 
 
"You told him," Langly says as we get out.  Frohike nods. 
"And you're still standing, Dude." 
 
"Give me the keys, Frohike,"  I say.  "I'm going to Des 
Moines, right now." 
 
Mulder, it's at least six hours away," Frohike protests. 
 
"What the hell does that matter?"  I say.  "We're wasting 
time here." 
 
Byers looks uncomfortable.  "I think you should stay here, 
Mulder," he says.  "It's not safe." 
 
"I've been traipsing all over the countryside for the past 
six months, guys.  I *think* I can handle this." 
 
"Scully wouldn't like it." 
 
They tried to pull this before.  I didn't buy it then, and 
I'm not buying it now.  "That's a low blow and you know 
it.  I *need* to go.  If you want a reason, then how 
about I'm a trained investigator?  I might find some 
clues you guys and your `friend' overlooked." 
 
I give them all my best Skinner-like steely stare.  "We're 
wasting time," I say again. 
 
In the end, Frohike agrees to take me along while Byers and 
Langly keep the home fires burning. 
 
Frohike lets me share the driving duties.  I have a lot of 
time to think on the way to Des Moines, and none of the 
conclusions I come to are good ones.  Maybe they've been 
watching us all along, just waiting for one of us to blow 
our cover, and lead them to us.  It's a very real 
possibility, and one I know isn't lost on the guys. 
 
Though I'm still worried, the initial anger has passed. 
I knew, as did Scully, that there were risks inherent in 
this whole undertaking.  The Gunmen did what they could 
to ensure success; it's not their fault if it got all 
fucked up. 
 
By the time we reach the outskirts of Des Moines, I've 
convinced myself that it's actually my fault.  I wanted 
Scully to leave DC.  I needed her.  If it hadn't been 
for my selfishness, she'd probably still be okay. 
 
==== 
Chapter 4b: Fear 
 
 
It's early evening when we get to Scully's apartment. 
Frohike already has a plan worked out.  He goes to the 
manager's office and introduces himself as Scully's 
brother.  He explains she was called out of town on a 
family emergency and makes sure her rent is paid up 
through the end of the month.  He's come to pick up 
a few things for her, he says, and he'll be in touch 
if she's not coming back right away. 
 
I've been waiting in the van and he signals for me to 
come with him to the apartment.  As we get to Scully's 
door, her neighbor's door opens. 
 
"Oh hi, Carol," Frohike says casually.  "James, this 
is Carol."  He winks at me.  This must be his friend. 
 
She's a knockout, even in old sweats and a big shirt. 
She has dark hair and pouty lips.  She looks a bit like 
a porn actress I used to like.  I hate her on sight. 
 
She sticks her hand out to shake mine and I reluctantly 
take it. 
 
"I'm sorry we're meeting under such unpleasant 
circumstances," she says, in a voice that reminds me 
unpleasantly of Phoebe Green.  Another strike against 
her. 
 
I mutter something in reply and move past her into 
Scully's apartment.  I inspect the handle and the 
lock.  There are no signs of forced entry. 
 
"Have you guys been through here already?"  I ask. 
 
Frohike shakes his head.  "Y-Carol called us yesterday, 
we got in touch with you, and that's it.  You said you 
were on your way, so I waited for you." 
 
I'm somehow relieved.  I don't like the idea of Frohike 
going through Scully's things, even for a legitimate 
purpose. 
 
I have to fight the feeling I'm invading Scully's 
privacy myself as I start to roam around the apartment. 
When I remember Scully's cozy apartment at home, this 
place seems Spartan.  Thin, mud-colored carpet in the 
living room, worn vinyl in the kitchen/dining area. 
The furniture must have come with the place; it 
doesn't look like anything Scully would buy if she 
had a choice.  The whole place speaks of impermanence 
and transience.  I hate that Scully has had to live 
like this. 
 
Yet, it's obvious that she's tried to make it a home 
of sorts.  There's a small flowering plant on the 
dinette table.  The towels in the kitchen are cheerful 
colors.  I look through the cupboards, Frohike hovering 
at my shoulder.  Not much here; Scully's favorite tea, 
a few spices.  Baby cereal, jars of noxious-looking 
strained foods.  The kitchen is spotless, but there 
are dishes in the drainer.  A few baby bottles, a 
bowl, a glass.  The things in the refrigerator are 
very Scully-like: water, juice, non-fat milk, yogurt, 
some more baby stuff. 
 
The living room is also neat as a pin.  Even the magazines 
are fanned out nicely, which gives it the air of a doctor's 
waiting room.  I pick up a couple to see what Scully's 
been reading.  Nothing that reveals the Scully I know; 
these are home-maker magazines with pretty pictures of 
cheerful rooms.  Maybe these are Scully's views of a 
normal life. 
 
I told Scully once that I'd never seen her as a mother. 
Later, when she made the comment about having a normal 
life, I realized I hadn't envisioned her in that way, 
either.  By then, we both believed that at least the 
motherhood part probably wasn't going to happen.  I 
wonder now, does she still have hopes for that kind 
of life?  Did she hope that having a child would make 
it come true? 
 
I really don't think so.  Scully may have dreams, but 
she's a realist, too.  She's also told me since then 
that she chose to stay with me, and she keeps on 
choosing me.  I just wonder if each time she makes 
that same choice, her life narrows a little more. 
That these magazines reveal a yearning that she 
still has. 
 
There's one magazine in particular that really catches 
my eye:  "Single Parent Magazine."  This is almost too 
much, but I won't lose it with Frohike looking on.  But 
I hope she doesn't have a subscription to this one. 
 
I head to the bedroom, Frohike still at my heels.  "You 
stay out here," I tell him.  He raises his hands in 
surrender and backs off.  "I think I'll go next door 
and talk to Carol," he says. 
 
Suits me just fine.  I take a breath and enter her 
bedroom. 
 
Here, there are still no signs of a struggle, but 
definitely signs of a hasty departure.  The closet 
door stands open.  The bed is unmade.  I pick up one 
of the pillows and press it to my face.  Unmistakably 
Scully.  I'm tempted to take the pillow with me. 
Instead, I put it back in place and smooth the 
bedclothes up and pull the bedspread over them. 
William's crib is next to the bed.  Only the sheet 
covering the mattress is there.  I imagine Scully 
lifting William up, blanket and all, and bundling 
him out of the apartment.  A look into the closet 
reveals a few empty hangers and a pair of shoes. 
The bureau is almost full of Scully's things.  The 
second drawer I open has some underthings in it, 
like she grabbed a few off the top and left the 
rest.  I run my hands under the remaining items to 
see if anything else is hidden in the drawer, then 
I carefully smooth everything back into place.  I 
do the same with the other drawers.  The bottom one 
is empty except for a tiny pair of socks.  Those 
I do pocket. 
 
I sit on the bed and try to imagine the circumstances. 
I don't think she was taken against her will.  There's 
nothing here to indicate anything like that.  She left 
in haste, but obviously took the time to pack a few 
things.  She left her watch on the nightstand, but 
there's no toothbrush or hairbrush in the bathroom. 
 
Something must have scared Scully into running like 
that.  I need to know more.  I guess I need to talk 
to "Carol," much as I'd rather not, to get more 
details. 
 
As I stand up, I notice the nightstand drawer.  I'd 
almost overlooked it.  Scully evidently did, too, 
because she left something behind. 
 
It looks like a college composition book, the kind 
with the mottled black and white cardboard cover. 
It's held closed with an elastic band because there's 
things tucked between some of the pages.  I take the 
band off and a few fall out onto the bed. 
 
They're pictures of William, meticulously dated.  The 
book itself is written in Scully's own version of shorthand, 
but I can remember how to read some of it.  It's a record 
of William's growth and development.  It looks like 
Scully started it not long after she left DC.  I wonder 
if she intended it for me.  I want to think so, anyway. 
Regardless, it's coming with me. 
 
"Did you find anything?"  Frohike asks as I enter the 
apartment next door. 
 
I shake my head.  "I need to ask you some questions," 
I say to Carol.  She inclines her head but doesn't say 
anything. 
 
"When did you notice she was gone?  How long had she 
been gone when you noticed?" 
 
Carol goes over to a small monitor.  "I didn't notice 
until the next morning, but I have a tape of the night 
before."  She fiddles with the remote and runs the 
tape backward. 
 
We look at a grainy gray image of Scully's front door. 
There's a date and time stamp in the corner.  The time 
reads 2:00 AM.  Carol forwards the tape a little until 
we see a change. 
 
At 2:15:10, the door opened.  Scully appeared, William 
in her arms, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  She 
looked around cautiously.  I can see the gun in her 
free hand.  As we watch, she slowly walked out of the 
frame. 
 
This confirms my suspicions.  Scully left of her own 
free will.  Now I just have to figure out why, and 
hope that can tell me where. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
Frohike and I are both pretty quiet on the way back 
to St. Paul.  Carol, or Yves, as Frohike called her, 
couldn't tell us much more.  She'd been away from the 
monitors for only a few minutes, during which Scully 
had made her escape.  She hadn't looked at the tapes 
until the next morning, when Scully failed to follow 
her usual routine. 
 
I am still pissed but Carol's story reminded me 
uncomfortably of a stakeout of my own that I left 
for mere seconds, only to find the perp had been and 
gone in my short absence.  We parted, if not cordially, 
at least civilly. 
 
Frohike sacks out in the back of the van while I drive 
the first leg.  He'd suggested going back to St. Paul, 
absent any clues.  I was all for canvassing the neighborhood, 
but conceded that it would probably cause more harm than 
good. 
 
"Byers and Langly will have come up with something while 
we were gone," Frohike said.  He'd called to let them 
know we were coming back, and asked if they'd heard 
anything.  "Scully had an emergency number," he told 
me.  "She'll call it, I'm sure." 
 
I fervently hoped so. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
My nightmares of abduction and torture have now been 
replaced by dreams of Scully.  I'm more disturbed by 
this, and if possible, feel even more helpless than 
before.  All I can do is wait, and hope. 
 
I have no idea where Scully's gone.  She might not stay 
in one place, though if I know her at all, that's exactly 
what she'll do.  She'll find a safe place and hole up there. 
 
I think I've figured out why she ran away.  My own 
nightmares were the key.  She was alone, she had no 
one to turn to, no one to talk to.  The stress of 
keeping not just herself, but William, safe, had 
to be enormous. 
 
If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be found. 
I just hope that she's found a place where she can 
feel safe for a while. 
 
My biggest fear is that she'll decide to stay away 
forever. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
The guys are on this.  Byers put out the word to all 
the MUFON members in the Midwest to keep an eye out 
for Scully.  I'm all for driving randomly around myself, 
but even I know that's pretty futile.  So I wait, and 
hope, and trust that the guys are doing everything that 
can be done.  Even though I'm sure Scully wasn't taken 
against her will, I feel just as helpless as I did then. 
 
Scully didn't use the emergency number Frohike sent 
her, but I think that's because it's in the journal 
I now have in my possession.  I've got some of the 
entries translated and memorized now, and I'm working 
on the others.  I find comfort in some of the words. 
 
"W smiled today.  Very much like M, though I hope 
not so rare." 
 
"Thought W said `Da' today.  Hasn't yet said Mama, but 
sometimes makes `mmm' sound.  I talk to him every day. 
I tell him how much he looks like his daddy." 
 
I look at the pictures Scully took.  Frankly, I don't 
see much of a resemblance, though his eyes look like 
mine.  His nose doesn't look very big, at least not 
yet. 
 
"W is crawling all over.  Already baby-proofed, but 
he figured out the cupboard locks.  I put all the 
chemicals, etc. in the cupboard above the stove." 
 
That's my Scully, always a step ahead.  It's good to 
be reminded of that. 
 
In between repeated readings of Scully's journal, and 
bugging the guys for any information, I continue to 
do research and work out my findings.  It's hard to 
do it alone.  The guys are willing to help, and there 
are others here at the site who are scientists, but I 
don't want their help.  I want Scully's.  I always 
felt I could come to conclusions faster because I had 
Scully to help me work through the facts.  We know 
each other so well, and I'm having a hard time working 
with anyone else. 
 
I still have time on my hands, and my thoughts inevitably 
turn to Scully.  I wonder more and more if she can possibly 
be satisfied with the kind of life I can offer her.  It's 
about as far from normal as a person can get.  We'll be 
on the run for the foreseeable future; and how much future 
we have seems to be in doubt. 
 
The guys have outdone themselves on our behalf.  They've 
created a safe house that would definitely be the envy 
of the Witness Protection Program.  Most of one of the 
large buildings on site is devoted to living space and 
recreational facilities.  I have my own quarters, larger 
than my former apartment.  I was surprised to discover 
that they'd brought some of my stuff from DC. 
 
"We gave you a two bedroom place so there'd be room for 
the kid," Langly said when they showed me.  There was 
already a crib set up in the second room, though it 
wasn't furnished with much else. 
 
"What if Scully wants separate quarters?"  I asked. 
 
They all looked shocked and hemmed and hawed. 
 
Byers finally spoke up.  "Of course, there's plenty of 
room if that's what you want..." 
 
"It's not what I want," I said.  "It's what Scully might 
want."  I didn't want to make any assumptions on her part. 
 
"We'll keep the apartment closest to you for her," Byers 
said.  "We weren't able to get any of her furniture, but 
we can order anything she needs." 
 
I nodded.  I didn't like revealing my insecurities to 
the guys, but that last thing I wanted to do was assume 
that I knew what Scully wanted.  We'd never had a chance 
to discuss our future before I left DC, and I didn't 
want to present it as a fait accompli to her. 
 
I realize that I made certain assumptions in the past, 
and now I've been wondering about things that I never 
gave a thought to before. 
 
Did Scully want to be courted?  Would she rather have had 
a conventional relationship with me, one where we went on 
dates, where I left her at end of the evening with a 
goodnight kiss, brought her flowers? 
 
I'd always assumed Scully didn't care about things like 
that because I didn't.  I thought I was letting her call 
the shots, though.  I let her decide the when and the 
where.  I figured if she wanted the "how" to be different, 
she'd have said something. 
 
It's true we've never talked much about our feelings, 
even to each other.  Especially not to each other. 
Maybe I should have asked her.  Maybe I should have 
told her how I felt sooner, or at least have done a 
better job of it once I finally did. 
 
For now, I'll just have to put that on my list of regrets. 
It's getting longer all the time. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
Frohike makes the trip to Des Moines every week or so, 
just to check out the lay of the land.  They guys are 
convinced that Scully's okay, and that she'll turn up. 
They tell me that this unexpected turn of events is 
convincing evidence that their countermeasure to the 
chip actually works.  I don't know how they can say 
that, but I don't have any choice but to believe. 
 
I'm always edgier than usual on the days Frohike makes 
the trip to Des Moines.  He always calls when he gets 
there and calls on the way home, just to let us know 
if he's discovered anything new.  He hasn't so far.  I 
guess I hope that he'll show up there one day and Scully 
will be back, as if she'd never left.  I know it's 
ridiculously unlikely, but I like to think it could happen. 
 
When Frohike calls in the late afternoon to say that he 
has nothing new to report, I decide to go out for a run 
around the compound.  It's huge, and there are paths all 
through it for running or biking.  There's even a par 
course, and a basketball court.  The guys told me that 
most of the landscaping and security features were in 
place when they took it over, though they added some 
additional measures of their own.  Lodestone had been 
a failing dot-com when the guys decided to invest in 
it.  They'd had a side-business in security programs 
and consulting for some time, and the money they earned 
through game programming allowed them to invest in even 
bigger opportunities. 
 
The grounds are great.  This time of year, there are 
flowering trees and plants all over the place.  There 
are picnic areas and areas that have been left more 
natural.  I can almost forget that there's a tall 
electric fence around the entire perimeter, not to 
mention infrared sensors, cameras, and other high tech 
security systems, as well. 
 
So far, it's just the guys and me living here, though 
there's room for more.  I have my own ideas about who 
else I'd invite to come here.  I'm mindful of Jeremiah 
Smith's warning about concentrating too many of us in 
one location, and I'm aware that one day we'll probably 
have to separate. 
 
I'm hoping that by then, Scully and William will be with 
me, and *we* won't be separating.  I hope not, anyway. 
 
I run myself hard.  It helps, sometimes.  I've been 
running a lot lately.  Just another irony in my life. 
I'm staying in the same place, but I'm still running. 
 
I see Byers looking for me as I trudge back up the path 
to the buildings.  This must mean something.  Byers is 
the head of operations for the company, and he takes 
his job seriously.  He's good at it, too.  Langly is 
the chief programmer, or as it says on his business 
cards, "Master of Kung Fu."  Frohike doesn't have a 
title or business cards, but he's the go-to guy for 
everything.  He runs the covert operations side of 
the house, and he's also damned good at his job. 
 
"Byers," I greet him.  "I don't usually see you out 
here."  I'm a little worried, but I try not to let 
it show. 
 
"Frohike got a call from the emergency number,"  Byers 
said.  "Scully's back." 
 
"You're sure?" I ask him.  "You're absolutely sure." 
 
"Frohike left a number with the apartment manager, and 
someone called it this afternoon.  He was on his way 
back here and he stopped to check his messages.  She 
called just a little while ago.  He's turned around 
and is going back there." 
 
"Are you sure?"  I ask again.  I don't want Frohike 
walking into a trap, no matter how much I want to see 
Scully.  "Maybe he should wait for me, and I could go 
with him, just in case." 
 
Byers shakes his head.  "It's really Scully.  Frohike 
confirmed the sighting with Yves, too." 
 
Okay, so Yves has now redeemed herself in my eyes.  A 
little, anyway. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
I can't sleep.  I don't know why I'm even bothering to 
try.  I get up and pace around the apartment.  I calculate 
again the soonest that Frohike might arrive back here 
with his precious charges. 
 
I pick up Scully's journal again.  I wish there'd been 
a few pictures of her, too.  I think of how she looked 
before I left.  She'd let her hair grow longer, and she 
had a slightly more voluptuous look and feel than she'd 
ever had before, a wonderful by-product of her pregnancy. 
The surveillance video showed her hair as shorter, but 
the images weren't distinct enough to see much detail. 
Doesn't matter how she looks, as long as I can look at 
her. 
 
x-x-x-x 
 
I'm wandering all over the facility.  It's a Saturday, and 
I can have the run of the place, though the guys expect me 
to keep a low profile during the week.  They've screened 
their employees well, but we figure the less people who 
see me here, the better.  Trust No One.  I should 
needlepoint it on a pillow. 
 
I wander around the front building and find Byers, who 
looks like he's been doing the same thing.  "No sign of 
them," Byers says.  "They should be here by late 
afternoon, even if Frohike stopped for the night." 
 
I wonder fleetingly what we could do if they don't show 
up?  No one could keep me here then, I'd be out scouring 
every inch of the road, and everything else, between here 
and Des Moines, for as long as it took. 
 
Byers sees my expression and he has a worried look on 
his face.  "They're fine," he reassures me. 
 
I know that part of my worry has to do more with what will 
happen once they're here.  This is the turning point. 
We've been on the run, in one way or another, for a long 
time.  We've been forced apart by people and events beyond 
our control for years.  They've separated us by force, by 
deception, by attempts to seduce us.  We've always found 
our way back to each other, in the end.  I don't want it 
to be all for nothing, now that we have a chance. 
 
I find myself back outside my apartment.  Scully and 
William will have to stay here for a bit until we know 
what she wants to do.  I'll give her the bed, and make 
sure she knows I'm not part of the deal unless she wants 
it.  I haven't been sleeping in it, anyway.  If I can't 
be with Scully, I might as well sleep on the sofa. 
 
The message light is blinking on the phone when I walk 
through the door.  My heart begins to race again.  It's 
Byers, as I'd hoped.  "They're here.  We're taking them 
to The Thinker." 
 
Who the hell is that?  Then I remember; the guys thought 
it was cool to name the conference rooms after people 
they knew or admired.  The problem is, I never go to 
their meetings, so I can't remember where they are, 
half the time.  I know it's somewhere on the first 
floor of the main building, so I'll figure it out by 
process of elimination. 
 
As I enter the main corridor, I hear voices.  Byers. 
Langly.  Is that Scully speaking?  I pick up the pace 
a bit.  I'm glad the door to the conference room is 
open.  I feel as nervous as I did the day I returned 
from Tunguska and walked into the Senate hearing room. 
 
Langly says something about John Nash, and I hear Scully 
ask if he's here.  Sounds like a cue to me. 
 
"Don't be silly, Scully."  I say as I enter the room. 
"He's too high-profile now.  We had to turn him down." 
 
Scully turns at the sound of my voice.  Oh, I remember 
that look.  I know I have a stupid grin on my face, but 
I don't care.  I look like hell, anyway. 
 
But Scully...oh my god, I've never seen anyone look so 
good in all my life.  She's got William in her arms, 
and the biggest smile I've ever seen on her face.  I 
can't move; all I can do is look at them. 
 
Then William speaks.  "DA!" is all he says, but it 
breaks the spell.  He's reaching for me, Scully's 
reaching for me, I reach for Scully and William, 
and pull them both into my arms.  There's a commotion 
behind me, but I only have ears and eyes for Scully 
and William.  I feel Scully's head on my chest, and 
William next to her.  I'm murmuring to Scully, saying 
everything I've held inside for so long, in my own 
verbal shorthand.  "Scully," I say again and again. 
"Scully. Scully."  I never want to let them go. 
 
The guys have left the room, closing the door behind 
them.  I'm glad; all I want is this moment, one perfect 
 moment together before we go on. 
 
At last, I hold my family in my arms. 
 
===== 
end of Part Four; concluded in Part Five.