Surreal Thing
by Invisivellum

Disclaimers in Part 1

***

Scully has a few theories.  She also has several large manila envelopes
full of test results.  In the hours after my return to the world of the
conscious, she shared some of them with me.  I listened as attentively
as I could, but I was still disconcerted.  And I was fascinated with X.

My son.

The thought made my head swim. I nodded as Scully informed me that we
were in Canada, in a house that had belonged to Frohike's great-aunt.  I
tried to pay attention while she pointed out incomprehensible black
smudges on large sheets of plastic film.  I waited patiently while she
went in search of more envelopes full of carefully collected data.
Ninety-five percent of my attention, however, was focused on the
wriggling sack of oral fixation in my arms.

Anything within grasping distance went promptly into his mouth.  At one
point, when I leaned forward to stop Scully's endless dissertation with
a kiss, he tried to fasten on the cloth-covered tip of her breast.

I watched, amazed, as Scully unfastened her clothing with one hand and
maneuvered him into position with the other.  His questing mouth latched
on to the dark-rose nipple and his eyes fluttered shut as he
concentrated on his work.  Scully's eyes met mine and we exchanged some
interesting non-verbal dialogue while our son suckled at her breast.  It
was, quite possibly, the most surreal moment I have experienced in
almost two years.

**

Scully handed X to me in order to fetch a protective cloth for her
shoulder so she could burp him.  When she returned, Frohike, Byers, and
Langley trailed excitedly after her into the room. I guess they'd been
as patient as they could.

I sat there, cross-legged on the bed with X in my lap as they gathered
around and cracked wise about the baby, and my disappearance.  I think I
just sat there in a daze throughout most of it.  I traded the baby to
Langley for a tall glass of orange juice and drank it down in one long
swallow.

"Hey, Mulder," Langley said, disentangling his stringy hair from X's
mighty grip. "Scully made us his godfathers, did she tell you that?"

I glanced at Scully, who gave me a wry look and shrugged.  She took the
baby from Langley and hiked him high over her shoulder as she paced in
short laps around the bed.

"He's a Knicks fan, buddy," said Frohike, confidentially in my ear. "We
made sure of that."

"Yeah, " I gave a short laugh and knuckled at my eyes. "Yeah."

**

Sometime later, deep night by the look of the lone window, I opened my
eyes to an empty room.  I had sprawled in my sleep and kicked off the
comforter.  Moving slowly, carefully, I managed to maneuver to the foot
of the bed and retrieve the fluffy bedding from the floor.

Pleased with my newfound ability to walk, I took a few cautious steps
toward the door.  The muscles of my legs quivered, but held.  I tossed
the comforter onto the bed, braced my hands on the walls of the hallway,
and headed in the direction of the flickering blue light at the end.

The living room was devoid of life.  I expected to see the Gunmen
sprawled asleep there, or crouching over computer monitors in the
darkness.  The computer monitors were there — four of them, perched on
card tables and end tables around the room — but the chairs in front of
them were empty, as were the two sofas and the battered leather recliner
in one corner.  I peered curiously at my surroundings, taking in the
layout.

I continued my cautious exploration of the front rooms, noting a
wall-mounted ironing board jutting from a tiny cabinet in the dining
room.  Its surface was littered with papers and file folders, as was
every available surface in the large, old- fashioned kitchen.

I moved quietly through the dark house, feeling strength and energy
returning with every step.  It felt incredibly good to walk again, to
scratch my mundane itches, to breath and blink, stretch and yawn.

The old house had obviously been cobbled together over a span of many
years.  Another hallway stretched away from the living room opposite of
the one I'd emerged from and, following it, I found the bathroom.

I sighed with relief as I expelled what felt like several years' worth
of urine into the rust-stained bowl.  Using the time to wonder how my
bodily functions had been attended to during my long sleep, I winced as
I pictured Frohike -- or worse yet, Skinner -- helping Scully with a
bedpan or catheter.  When I bent at the sink to wash my hands and face,
my reflection in the spotted mirror caught my eye.

Aside from a few days' growth of beard, and dark circles under my eyes,
I looked pretty normal.  I was thinner, perhaps, and my ragged hair was
long enough to flop over my forehead, but I was otherwise unchanged.

Unchanged, except for the fact that I was now a father.

Snorting at the absurdity of my life, I fetched a thin white towel from
a hook on the back of the bathroom door and made for the old,
claw-footed bathtub.

**

Scully found me there sometime later.  When her cool hand touched my
shoulder, I started awake and thrashed around for a moment, sloshing
water onto the cracked linoleum and soaking the little towel on the
floor beside the tub.

"Jesus, Scully," I croaked, struggling to stand in the narrow space.  I
stood on trembling legs in the high bathtub, staring down at Scully in
her nightclothes.  She was wearing a little satin short set, with a
button-up top.  I marveled anew at her enhanced bust line.

"Mulder, you're going to break your neck," she admonished, reaching a
hand out to steady me.  She helped me step out of the tub, staggering a
little as I put most of my weight on her.  The air was cool, but the
space between our bodies warmed rapidly as I felt her belly pressing
against the front of my hips.  She held me for a moment, leaning
slightly backwards to examine my face.  One of her hands came up to
swipe at the water dripping from my face.

"You're wet," she said, unnecessarily. "Can you stand here while I get
you a towel?"

I didn't answer her, nor did my arms relax their hold around her back.
The momentary weakness vanished and I felt invigorated.

"You're warm," I told her, running my hands up and down her spine.

She made me stand in the cold bathroom while she rooted in the hall
closet.  Re- entering the room, she averted her eyes and handed me a dry
towel.

"Your brush with a higher intelligence hasn't improved your habits much,
" she said dryly, flushing the toilet I'd neglected earlier.  She leaned
down and retrieved the towel from the floor and began wringing water
from it into the emptying bathtub.  "Get some clothes on, Mulder."

"Clothes?" I asked, running the dry towel over my naked body as briskly
as I could.  To my amusement, Scully was studiously avoiding looking in
my direction.  I considered making another pass, but the air was too
cool for comfort and my teeth were beginning to chatter.  "Where are
>
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transfer interrupted!

 door opposite the entrance to the
bathroom.  "In the suitcase next to the bassinet."

Perplexed by her refusal to meet my eyes, I stopped and waited.  She
continued to look away from me, swiping at the surface of the sink with
the damp towel, as I wrapped the other towel around my hips.  Decently
covered, I hooked one hand around her upper arm and pulled her to me.

She came, unresisting, into my arms and dropped her forehead on my
chest.  She was crying, very quietly, her tears mingling with the
residual drops of water from my impromptu bath.

"Scully," I murmured into her hair.  She smelled warm and faintly sweet,
like sleep with a hint of baby shampoo. "Why are you crying?"

Her head shook slowly against my chest and she didn't answer.  I held
her for a long moment, savoring the warmth of her body against mine, the
feathery tickle of her hair on my chest. Her hands gripped my back and I
could feel her struggling for control.

After a few moments, where I absently stroked her trembling back with my
fingertips, I felt her plant a damp kiss on my breast, just below the
collarbone.  I squeezed her and kissed her back, right on the ear.

"Scully?" I nuzzled her ear, placed a kiss just beneath it on her neck.

She drew a shaky breath and expelled it.  "It's been so hard, Mulder.
I'm just...," she swallowed and pulled back to look at me. "I'm
just....relieved."

I nodded my understanding.  I didn't know all of the details, but I had
some inkling of the struggle the past fifteen months must have been for
her. I could clearly remember my own state of mind when, early in our
partnership, she'd vanished off the face of the earth for three months.
 I hadn't had a mysterious, miraculous pregnancy to contend with.  Nor a
baby who might be the target of malicious conspiracies, fantastic
dangers no one could prove.  I marveled at her ability to remain sane
under such pressure.

An idea first proposed by Scully, one I'd begun to seriously consider
before my abduction, resurfaced.  I looked down at her, studying the
fine lines at the corners of her eyes, the faint trace of tears on her
face, and felt my resolve harden.

We are getting out.

I could make arrangements. We could liquidate my assets and disappear.
With glib disregard for the details, I spun a fantasy of the two of us
-- make that three of us -- turning tail and running for the hills.  We
would go to Switzerland, I thought. The Gunmen would help us.   I would
take Scully and X — I would take my family, I thought with some
amazement -- and drop off the face of the earth.

Fuck the aliens, fuck the Consortium, fuck it all. We would just go
somewhere and be normal.

Scully interrupted my thoughts with a kiss on my chin. "Go get dressed,"
she said quietly.

Drawn back to reality, I recovered my wit. "That doesn't fit in with my
plans, Scully."  I nudged her suggestively with my towel-clad hips.

She snorted and shook her head, pushing away from my chest with the
palms of her hands.  "Mulder, you can barely stand."

I ignored her, choosing instead to suck gently on the hollow of her neck
below her ear. "I wasn't thinking of standing all the way through,
though we could try..."

"Mulder, I have to pee," she whispered, clutching at my shoulders with
her fingers while I nibbled my way down her neck.

"So, pee," I told her, going for her earlobe again. "I am not leaving
your sight."

She inserted the flat of her hand between my mouth and her ear.

"You are leaving my sight long enough to let me pee in private," she
said firmly, pushing me towards the doorway. "Go."

**

In the shadowy bedroom, with only the flimsy towel around my hips, I
stopped and stared at the bassinet.  Scully's bedroom was larger than
the one I'd been sleeping in, but furnished in the same simple fashion.
 Aside from the old iron bed, there was only a bedside table with a lamp
and alarm clock on it, and a wooden rocking chair next to the lone
window.  It was much warmer in here.

The bassinet was close to the bed, on the side away from the door.  A
large suitcase sat, wide open, on the floor beside it, along with a few
other bags and backpacks. I made my way around the bed and peered into
the small crib.

X was sleeping soundly on his back with his head turned to one side.
One plump fist was curled at the ready, millimeters away from his mouth.
 His tiny chest rose and fell steadily with every breath.  Forgetting
about warm clothing, I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over the
bassinet to watch him.

"So, you're a Knicks fan, huh?" I asked him softly.  The sound of my
strange voice made him stir and kick his chubby legs, but he soon
settled back into slumber.  Unable to resist, I reached out and touched
his sock-clad foot with a finger tip.  He drew his legs up in reflex and
smacked his lips.

My son.

"I'll be a good father to you," I whispered, thinking of all the ways in
which I could improve upon my own father's performance.  "I'll protect
you."

In the darkness, I saw his eyes flutter.  He made a small noise, a
grunt.  His eyes fluttered again, opened, and fixed upon me.  At the
sight of my strange visage peering over the edge of the bassinet at him,
his face screwed up and he emitted a cry.

The first feeble whimpers  turned insistent and I looked anxiously over
my shoulder at the doorway, wishing Scully would appear and take over. X
was drawing another breath when I heard the toilet flush. I shushed him
ineffectively and looked at the doorway again.

C'mon Scully.  I scared the baby and woke him up.  C'mon, c'mon.

I heard the squeak of the bathtub taps and the rush of water into the
tub and realized with a sinking feeling that Scully, no doubt prompted
by my amorous attentions, was following my lead and taking a midnight
bath.  The thought occurred to me that she must really, really, really
trust me if she felt confident enough to leave me alone with a crying
baby.

For a moment, I considered leaving him in his crib to cry while I
fetched Scully.  Instead, I found myself reaching into the bassinet,
pulling back the little knit blanket that covered him, and lifting him
in my arms.

"C'mon, buddy," I coaxed him. "I'm not that bad." I paced the bedroom
floor, repeatedly glancing at the doorway.

I had a revelation as I gave his bottom an awkward pat and a strange,
unpleasant scent assailed my nose.

****

X and I stood outside the bathroom door, listening to the swish of water
from within.
"Uh, Scully?" I called, trying the handle.

It was locked.  I knocked, exasperated that she continued to be so
modest with me.  Granted, we hadn't had much time before my
disappearance to grow nonchalant about certain intimacies, but I seemed
to recall several occasions upon which I was able to count every freckle
God had given her, some of which she didn't even know she had.

The thought occurred to me that perhaps it wasn't modesty provoking her
to lock the door, but the desire to hide her tears.

"Mulder, I'm bathing."

"Yeah, Scully, I know, but the baby is awake." I pressed one ear against
the door.

Instead of sniffles, I heard the smile in her voice when she said,"He
probably just needs a fresh diaper, Mulder. They're in the bedroom, in
the bag by the suitcase."

X was still wailing, emitting quite a lot of noise about two inches from
my left ear. I winced and shifted him so he faced the bathroom door.  I
held him forward of my body, close to the door, so Scully would be sure
to hear his angry cries.  I stood there like that for a few moments, at
a loss.  From within came the placid sound of water lapping at the sides
of the tub.  My arms, not at the peak of their strength, began to
tremble. I settled X in the crook of one elbow and ran a hand through my
hair.

"Come on, Scully," I whined unbecomingly. I didn't want to admit I'd
never changed a diaper before.  She probably knew that anyway.

"Mulder," she was trying to sound firm, commanding, but I could hear the
laughter that lurked underneath.  "Just change his diaper and hold him.
 Rock him.  He likes to be rocked.  I'll be out in a minute."

Jeez, I thought, stomping back into the bedroom with the hiccupping X
under one arm. He didn't like being carried like that, but I really
didn't want to have intimate contact with the contents of his diaper.
The whole scenario made me tremendously anxious.

I flicked on the bedside lamp, put him down on his back on the bed and
went in search of the diaper bag.  The sudden cessation of his angry
cries alerted me to the fact that X was capable of both rolling over and
crawling, just in time for me to catch him at the edge of the bed.

"Alright," I said grimly, placing him firmly back in the middle of the
bed. He glared at me and kicked his feet in the air.  The pungent odor
assailed my nostrils again and I pointed a finger at him.  "Stay.
There."

Keeping one eye on him, I retrieved the diaper bag and rummaged around,
finally withdrawing a diaper.

"Okay, buddy," I said, kneeling on the bed and swiveling him by his legs
to face me.  "This is probably going to hurt me more than it hurts you."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the little adhesive tabs
at his hips, but I did have the satisfaction of testing my reflexes when
he began to urinate again as soon as the diaper was out of the way.  I
slapped the front of it back down and waited to the count of ten.  With
my other hand, I rummaged around in the diaper bag and triumphantly
produced a box of wet towelettes.

The whole business took longer than it should have, but in the end X was
clean, dry, and sporting a snug new diaper.  He had long ago stopped
crying and was merely glaring at me from under furrowed russet eyebrows,
looking remarkably like his mother.

His mother.

Shaking my head, I hefted X onto my left shoulder and eyed the tall heap
of soiled Wet Ones and ruined diapers I'd tossed on the floor.  My
beleaguered towel came loose and slithered to my feet.  I kicked it out
of the way and walked over to the window.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked him, seating myself carefully in
the tall-backed rocking chair.  I rocked slowly, marveling at the
feeling of his soft weight on my chest.  His head tossed back and forth
restlessly on my shoulder for a moment, then he settled down and seemed
to enjoy the rocking motion.  I kept a steady rhythm going, pushing
slightly with the balls of my bare feet against the braided-cloth rug on
the floor.

My son.

It was too overwhelming, and more than a little surreal.  I've had
elaborate hallucinations, I told myself, more elaborate even than this
one.  This could still turn out to be a dream.  Surely, if I were to
close my eyes and relax, I would wake up in another place.  A flash of
remembrance — bright lights and thin, misshapen shadows --- snapped my
eyes back open and I drew a shaky breath.

Any reality was better than that, even one in which I was cast in the
dubious role of "Dad" to a child who should have been impossible to
conceive.  Absently, I stroked his narrow back with my hand.  He
snuggled closer against my chest and tossed his head again. I touched
the back of his skull, in wonder and amazement. Slowly, I traced his
entire body with my hand, gripping first one foot, then the other in my
hands and feeling his squirming response.

My son.

A sound from the doorway drew my eyes there to see a damp and tousled
Scully, dressed again in the little blue shorts and top, eyeing me
speculatively.  As I had suspected, her eyes were faintly rimmed with
red.

I offered her a satisfied smirk and gestured at X with my eyebrow.

"Mission accomplished," I said smugly. "But you get to do the breast
feeding."

I saw a faint smile before she turned and pushed the bedroom door shut.
 She gave an exasperated huff when she spied the mess we'd made, and
made a few trips back to the bathroom cleaning it up.  I watched her,
pondering the bizarre circumstances that always seemed to ensnare us,
and how we would cope with this one.

Finally, she crossed the room to stand beside my chair.  As she looked
down at us, an expression of sadness and wonder flickered behind her
eyes.  A question lurked there.  With my free hand, I reached out and
laced my fingers through hers.

Silently, she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.  I
grunted my dissatisfaction and lifted my chin for a taste of her mouth.
 She complied quietly, letting my tongue touch the tip of hers before
she withdrew and gestured for the baby.

"Is he hungry?" she asked softly, taking him from my arms. Then,
glancing down at me, she gave a surprised laugh. "Mulder, couldn't you
find your clothes?"

"I was too busy getting Junior dressed," I responded.

She snorted, mouthed the word "Junior" and rolled her eyes.

Somewhat more seriously, I added, "And I can't tell ‘I'm hungry' crying
from ‘I've got a nasty surprise in my pants' crying."

Scully gave me an amused glance and indicated that she wanted the
rocking chair. I vacated it and turned to watch her settle in.  X,
sensing a tasty treat, was rooting for the nipple before she could get
her top unbuttoned. I watched, bemused and amazed, as he locked his
mouth around the tip of her breast and began to suck in earnest.

"Is that why your breasts are so large?" I asked, finally giving in to
curiosity. "Breast feeding?"

"Mm," she said, closing her eyes as she rocked the nursing baby.  "Well,
yes.  You know that a natural result of pregnancy in mammals is
lactation, for which purpose the breasts necessarily become larger. As
long as breast feeding is ongoing, the mother's body will continue to
manufacture ----" She stopped abruptly, opened her eyes and fixed me
with a strange look. "Why?"

Looking away, I wandered over to the suitcase and began rummaging for
something to put on.  "Just wondering," I muttered.

I found a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and clothed myself, keeping my
back to Scully and the baby.  Throughout the evening, I had been
assailed by moments of utter discombobulation.  Experiencing one such
moment during the brief discussion of breast-feeding, I kept my face
turned away until it passed.

Once clothed and feeling calmer, I switched off the bedside lamp and
sprawled sideways at the foot of the bed. The faint gray light of the
rising moon limned Scully's profile in silver, touching the soft down of
X's cheek against the curve of her plump breast.  I could see the
outline of Scully's hand as she lifted it repeatedly to stroke his face
with her fingertip.

After several hours of emotional roller-coaster riding, I wasn't really
surprised to feel tears trickling down my face.  I wiped them away
impatiently with a fist and thought about everything I had missed.

As I lay there, the fantasy of absconding with Scully and X to the hills
of Switzerland replayed in my head.  I pondered how to accomplish it
unnoticed.  Recognizing that I was too mentally exhausted to make a good
job of planning, I made a promise to myself to talk to Scully about it
when I woke up.

Sleep came while I watched my son take sustenance and love from his
mother's arms.

**
In my dreams, Scully came to me in the darkness and placed my hand on
her flat, bare stomach.

"Watch," she said.

And I watched in amazement as her abdomen stretched and swelled under my
hand and the miraculous life grew within her.  She gave me a happy grin
and ran her hand over the smooth, taut skin of her rounded belly.

"My God," I breathed, stroking the nearly spherical surface. "Oh, my
God."

**
The sound of the bedside lamp being switched on made my eyes snap open.
I was disoriented for a moment, staring at the dark window and the
empty, motionless rocking chair.

"Mulder?" I heard Scully moving around to the foot of the bed and saw
her crouch in front of me. "Are you okay?"

I blinked, squinted and tried to rise.

"No, no, just move up there," Scully whispered, indicating the head of
the bed.  I was still stretched out along the foot of it.  Sleepily, I
crawled up to the top and slipped under the covers.  Scully followed
suit, flicked off the lamp and smoothed the quilt across my chest.

"You were talking in your sleep," she told me.

"What was I saying?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"I couldn't understand you." In the darkness, I heard her yawn.  "I
thought you were having a nightmare."

I grunted, and scrubbed at my eyes with two fingers. "No."

I thought about what I could remember of the dream, and sorrow welled up
in my throat.  I swallowed.

"But in my dream I realized that I would never see you pregnant."

Scully was silent for a long moment.  In the stillness of the room, I
could hear her breathing over the distant rattle of the heating unit
kicking in.  From the bassinet came the soft smacking sounds of X
dreaming his own dreams.

I was wide awake now, letting tears trickle silently from the corners of
my eyes, knowing that this emotional phase would pass away soon enough,
and too tired to do anything other than let it take its course.

The bedding rustled as Scully turned onto her side and moved towards me.
 I turned wordlessly and wrapped her in my arms, feeling anew the wonder
of holding her slender body against mine.

I realized with chagrin that, though I would never enjoy the experience
of being an expectant father, Scully had endured the entire pregnancy
alone, with no help from me.  I held her tightly and let the tears dry
on my face.

What I thought at first was simple comfort turned even more interesting
when I felt her mouth, open and soft, slide warmly across mine, and the
tickle of her nimble hand as it crawled slowly south of my navel.  I
responded with alacrity, sliding my hand up the back of her silky top.

"You've had a long day," she whispered, momentarily stilling the
movement of her fingers. "Aren't you tired?"

"Scully, if I'm ever too tired for this, call the Gunmen and hold a
wake."

She laughed quietly, and her hand resumed its downward motion.

My fingers made quick work of the satin buttons of her top and I
breathed in awe over the sight of her swollen, rose-tipped breasts in
the moonlight.  Reverently, I planted a kiss on each one.

My body responded to the promises her hands and mouth were making,
bringing me to full, throbbing erection in a matter of seconds.  I
groaned and shifted until I was leaning over her, enjoying the
faintly-soapy taste of her skin under my tongue and the friction of her
hand through the cloth of my boxers.

"Scully,"I rasped, reveling in the act of saying her name in this
position, shaking with need, and the sudden, overwhelming desire to sob
like a forsaken child. I buried my face for a moment in the pillow
beside her head. When the hammering of my heart slowed to a heavy
thumping, I started inching my way down her neck again, sucking and
nipping at her sweet skin.

Pausing with my mouth over one soft breast, I glanced up at her.  In the
moonlight, I saw an eyebrow arch, preparing for my question.  "These
aren't going anywhere anytime soon, are they?" I asked, nuzzling one
soft mound with my nose.

She snorted and drew me up to kiss my mouth.  "Actually, once X is
weaned you'll be forced to make do with the old model."

"I've got no problems with the old model," I mumbled, cupping a hand
around one full breast. "But these are fascinating."

She gave me a wry smile and watched me kiss my way back down her chest.

"You know, Mulder," she said, as I indulged my fascination,  "it stands
to reason..."

She paused when my lips grazed one swollen nipple, "...and the
appropriate tests confirm..."

I turned my attention to the other breast.

"...that what can happen once..." she groaned as my tongue curled around
the rigid nipple.

Honestly, I was only half-listening.

"...can happen again."

My head jerked out from under the draping bedclothes.  I sat back on my
heels, staring at her in the pale gray light that filtered past me from
the window, and tried to read her expression.

‘What do you mean?"

Scully blinked at me lazily, sat up, and pushed at the waistband of my
boxers with both hands. "Of course, I'll have to wean X first." she said
evenly.

"Scully." This time, her name was a command and, though she recognized
it, she chose to ignore it. A slow grin crept across her face,
transforming her completely.  She continued to calmly divest me of my
clothing and I cooperated distractedly, staring numbly at her profile as
she leaned over to toss my t-shirt and boxers to the floor.

"Are you sure?" I finally managed to croak. "This — this ---"

"Yes." She shrugged her top off her shoulders and dropped it beside the
bed. "I appear to have been restored to a normal state of fertility for
a woman of my age," she affirmed, wriggling out of her own boxers and
skimming off her panties. "That is, I have viable ova and an
accommodating uterus." She smirked at my expression.

"The rest," she breathed, drawing me back down on top of her, "is up to
you."

**
End, Surreal Thing 2/2

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I've met hundreds of people via the ‘net over the past few years, but
Barbara D. has to be one of my all-time favorites ever.  You can thank
her for the fact THAT this story wasn't swamped with adverbs (and the
word "that").  Barbara, thank you for your time and your patience.
Because of your efforts, this story is so much better than it would have
been. (Not to mention, it wouldn't even have a title!)

Aside from being deluged with story ideas after viewing "Requiem," I was
also put in the mood to write by a brief, barely-noticed discussion on
atxc that referenced a song called "Throw Your Arms Around Me" by a band
called Hunters and Collectors. I threw that (great!) song into the mix.
 Bonus points if you can find it. (It's pretty muddled by now, but I
think I managed to make M kiss S in at least four places.)

I realize the timing of Mulder's return will probably turn out to be
quite different in Season 8.  But that's why God made fan fiction!

Feedback welcomed at:  Invisivellum@hotmail.com

Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.