Blue Girl VTitle: Blue Girl V
Classification: SA
Keywords: none
Rating: NC-17
Thanks: as always, to realb, Karri, and Liam
Feedback: please, to lil_gusty@hotmail.com
Distribution: not that you would, but you could.  Just let me 
              know.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, they belong to 
            Mr. Chris Carter, lucky bastard.
Summary: "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live 
         it? - every, every minute?"  (From "Our Town" by 
         Thornton Wilder) Sequel to Blue Girl IV.


<><><><><><>

He saw her mother before she did.  She was smiling, craning her 
head to see over the throngs of people.  In her world, her 
daughter was home and all would be right with the world.

When she saw them, her smile fell away, and was replaced with 
what looked like a nauseous frown.  She swallowed whatever she 
was feeling, and took a step towards them, silently asking him 
with her eyes what had happened to her baby girl.

"Scully," he said to her quietly.  She was watching her feet like 
each step required concentration and didn't even know her mother 
was there.

Undaunted, her mother excitedly closed the distance between them 
and pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her back as if she 
was afraid she'd escape.  Scully stiffened, and he heard her 
gasp.  She kept her arms at her sides, looking uncomfortable and 
afraid.

Her mother, realizing her daughter wasn't enjoying their reunion, 
released her, stepping back and taking her face in her hands.  
With her thumbs, she brushed at the dry tear tracts on Scully's 
face.  "Dana...I'm so glad you're all right.  I was so worried.  
We all were.  I'm so glad you're home."

Scully kept staring at her feet, unmoving.

"Look at you.  You're so skinny..."  She laughed uncomfortably, 
and Scully started sniffling again, stifling tears.  "And your 
hair..." she moved her hand to touch it lightly, and Scully 
flinched away, taking a step back.

This was wrong.  He should've prepared her for her mother's 
reaction, and her mother for how Scully would be acting: distant, 
cold, terrified.

Not knowing what else to do, her mother pulled her close again, 
though not as tightly, looking to him for an answer about why she 
was acting this way.  "Aren't you glad to be home?"  She asked as 
she stepped back again, linking hands with her daughter and 
tugging them towards the chairs nearby.

Scully didn't answer, huddling further into his leather jacket.

He looked at her mother with stony eyes, trying to relay to her 
that Scully wasn't as excited as she was and not to force her.

"Well, I guess we should get going.  We have so much to do," she 
said, not understanding his communique.  "Are you coming, Fox?"

"For a little while," he nodded.

Her mother smiled slightly, then refocused on her daughter, 
leading them towards the exit.

Over her shoulder, Scully glanced at him, begging him to do 
something.  Instead, he followed them silently, and Scully 
dropped her eyes and concentrated on her feet again.

<><><><><><>

She'd wanted to sit in the backseat, and her mother's 
disagreements were silenced when Mulder had opened the rear 
passenger door for her, nodding for her to sit.

They thought she was sleeping.

"Fox, I don't understand," her mother kept saying.  "Why is she 
like this?"

She heard his hair scrape against his collar as he shook his 
head.  "She's just unfamiliar with all this.  It'll take some 
getting used to."

"Getting used to her own family?"  Her mother shrieked, then 
glanced in the rear-view mirror to ensure that Scully's eyes were 
still closed.

They were.

"It's been nine years.  During that time, the only people she saw 
were guards and doctors and every time they approached her, it 
was to hurt her.  She's used to being hurt by people.  She'll 
need some time to re-learn that not everyone is like that," he 
explained sadly.

"But I don't understand.  She knows she's safe now..."

"I can't explain it, Mrs. Scully.  It's a normal reaction, 
though.  Just try not to be too forceful.  Let her take the lead.  
If she doesn't want physical contact, then respect that.  When 
she's ready, she'll let you know."

"So I can't even touch her?"

He hesitated.  "Not unless she invites it."

"For how long?"

"I don't know.  It depends on...alot of things.  It could be 
days, it could be months."

"Months?"

He nodded, shifting his eyes to the rear view mirror to look at 
her.  She could feel it.

"I don't know if I can do this, Fox."

"If you don't, then who will?"  He asked carefully.

The car was stopped, and she felt them look at each other.  After 
a moment, a light must've changed, and they started moving again.

No one.  Not Mulder, certainly.  He was too busy, pawning her off 
on her mother, too anxious to get back to his perfect life with 
Diana.  If her mother didn't help her, then no one would.  Then 
she'd be alone, really alone this time, not just the alone that 
she created by running away.  It didn't matter if she stayed or 
if she ran, she'd be alone, only this time, there'd be no one 
looking for her or waiting for her to come home.  There was no 
home for her to come to.  There was no reason to.

"I just don't understand," her mother repeated for the third 
time.

"I know," he answered wearily.

Traffic moved around them.  Car noises soothed her, lulling her 
deeper and deeper into a light relaxation.

"What's she been doing all this time?"  Her mother asked a few 
moments later.

He hesitated again.  "I don't know that I should tell you.  You 
may not want to hear."

"I want to know where my daughter's been," she said firmly.

He sighed.  "The first time I found her, she was in a jail in 
Missouri.  They'd arrested her for prostitution."

"WHAT?"

She stiffened, lanced out of her trance, and held her breath to 
keep from crying.

He continued quietly.  "The second time was in Kentucky.  She was 
working in a nightclub and living with the manager.  He abused 
her, and he may have introduced her to drugs.  I don't know what 
she's been doing since then."

"Fox, how could she do something like that?  She knows better 
than that."

"I don't know.  She may have thought that was her only means of 
earning money- "

"But," her mother swallowed, upset.  "Selling herself on the 
streets?"  She whispered, as if someone might overhear.  "I don't 
understand how she could do something like that!"

"It's complicated, Mrs. Scully," he said, clearly upset as well.

"Well, I want to know!  I want to know what made her do something 
like that!"

Her mother was angry, ashamed.  She should've known.  From her 
quiet hole in the back of the car, she opened her mouth and let 
her voice shake.  "I'm sorry, Mom."

Two pairs of eyes snapped to her.  Mulder's were sad and 
apologetic, her mother's were terrified and shocked that she'd 
gotten caught.

She wiped her cheeks, not looking at either of them.  "I'm 
sorry," she repeated, wrapping her arms around her chest to stop 
shaking.

No one spoke for a long time, but they kept watching her, her 
mother's eyes flicking from the road back to her, to the road 
again.

"It's okay, Scully.  It's over now.  Right?"  Mulder finally 
said, his eyes searching for hers in the mirror.

She turned her head towards the window, not answering.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

<><><><><><>

This was the part of growing up she most looked forward to: 
approaching their new house in their new base with their new 
neighbors waiting to be played with.  All four little red head 
would scramble over each other in the back of the station wagon, 
eager to see what their house looked like, if it had a big yard 
or a bay window.  When it stopped, they would clamor out, legs 
stiff and achy from the drive, and run up the stairs.  She and 
Missy had to beat their brothers if they wanted the best room, 
and once it was called, the decision had been made.  It didn't 
matter if Bill had pushed her into the stair rail or Missy was 
too afraid of messing up her hair to actually run.

Not that it much mattered.  In another year or two, they'd be 
moving again, and the cycle would repeat itself.

But with each new house came a new set of people to meet and make 
friends with.  None of them knew who she was, and she liked it 
that way.  She could be anyone she wanted to be: the tomboy who 
always tagged along with the boys for baseball after school, the 
dork with the good grades and teacher approval, the pretty girl 
with Missy's make-up and borrowed skirt, the flirt, never without 
a male companion, the loner, who never spoke to anyone or smiled.  
She had been all of them at one time or another, and each time 
she moved, she'd developed another identity to go with her name.

Maybe that's why she'd wanted to change her name so badly.  Dana 
Scully had too much attached to it.  Kathy had nothing, could be 
anything.  That was a freedom that Dana Scully hadn't had 
recently.

There was no joy in this drive, though.  As her mother turned 
down an unfamiliar street, she remembered that they had only been 
stationed in Corpus Christi for a few months, not even long 
enough for her to get use to whatever persona she'd developed.  
Houses that were much nicer than the ones they'd lived in - each 
one a little different from the others; unique - passed by 
slowly.  Kids and dogs played together outside, one woman washed 
her car.  Her mother waved at the woman as they passed, and the 
woman waved back.

The car slowed, turned again, and lurched to a stop in front of a 
house with a kiddie swimming pool in front.  Her mother glanced 
at her in the mirror, smiled sadly, then said, "We're here."

Both she and Mulder opened their doors, but Scully was so tired 
she never wanted to move again.  Her bones ached from shaking so 
much, her eyes were swollen and burning, and she couldn't get 
warm.  She needed a cigarette.

Mulder paused beside the car, watching her carefully before 
opening her door for her, offering his hand to help her out.  He 
took the bags her mother got out of the trunk, and waited, 
letting her mother be the first to the door.

"I've got a room ready for you," she said, just making 
conversation, filling silence and awkwardness.  "You can wear 
some of my things until we can go shopping.  Maybe we could do 
that tomorrow, or later this week?"

She looked over her shoulder at Scully for an answer, but one 
wasn't forthcoming.  Behind her, Mulder shook his head.

"Whenever you're ready," she said belatedly, climbing the stairs 
up to the porch.

The front door opened, startling Scully into stillness and almost 
making Mulder run into her.  A blond woman with an infant on her 
shoulder stood in the doorway, watching the precession with a 
wary smile.  "Dana," she said longingly, her eyes getting teary.

Her mother continued up the steps and into the house.  Scully 
stood still.

"Come in.  Lunch is almost ready," the blond woman continued.  
She smiled again at Mulder, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

Her mother reappeared, taking the infant from the blond woman.  
"Dana, you remember Tara, don't you?"

Scully scoffed a laugh, turning her head away.  Of course she 
remembered her own sister in law, she wasn't amnesiac.

"Meet your youngest nephew.  His name is Jacob and he's only four 
months old," she cooed, more to the baby than to her.

Scully wouldn't look at either of them.

"Well," her mother decided, sounding angry.  "Fox, this is Tara, 
Bill's wife.  Tara; Fox Mulder."

Mulder nodded and Tara smiled.  She was always smiling.

"Let's go in," her mother continued, leaving her and Mulder 
standing at the bottom of the steps as the rest of the family 
went inside the house.

"Scully," Mulder said to her softly.

She bit her lip, closing her eyes.

"Scully," he said again, encouraging her.

Slowly, she nodded, and walked into the open door, where the 
smell of warm vanilla and tuna salad sandwiches waited.

There was a red-headed toddler on the floor in the living room, 
engrossed in a children's television show that she didn't 
recognize.  He looked up at them as they entered, then stood and 
ran into the kitchen.

Her mother came down the stairs.  "Dana, come and see your room," 
she told her, waiting until both she and Mulder were at her heels 
before climbing the stairs again.  She led them to the last room 
at the end of the hall, just across from the nursery.  "It's 
Mathew's, actually, but he'll sleep in James' room for now.  The 
only thing is the bed; do you think you'll be comfortable here?"

She gestured to the single bed covered in a racecar bedspread.  
The walls around it were tacked with paper versions of road signs 
and a poster of some NASCAR driver hung opposite her.  It was 
claustrophobic, brightly colored, and garish.  She didn't mention 
she didn't know who Mathew and James were.

"Dana?"  Her mother asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder, 
then remembering with an impatient look at Mulder.

"Can you give us a minute?"  He asked her, escorting her to the 
door before she answered.  He didn't close it once she'd left, 
but left it pushed to, so that no one could hear what they were 
saying.  "Are you okay?"

Scully shrugged, running her fingertips lightly over the 
bedspread.

"If you're not, then say so.  You don't have to stay."

She turned to him, her eyes a stormy, endless blue sky.  "I 
don't?"

"No," he answered slowly.  "It might be good if you visited with 
them for a while, but if you don't want to stay, you don't have 
to."

"So many things have changed," she said warily.  "All these 
children...Tara looks like she's afraid of me."

"She's not afraid of you, she's afraid of doing the wrong thing."

She sat down on the bed, sinking into its cushy, little-boy 
warmness.  "I don't know if I can do this."

"Do what?"  He asked, sitting beside her.

"Be here.  It's too much..."

"Then just stay long enough to see your brother, then we'll go 
home.  Back to DC," he amended, remembering that she had no home.

"No.  You have too much going on.  With work and Diana..."

"Don't worry about any of that.  If you want to come back with 
me- "

"I don't know what I want," she admitted in a low voice, but it 
was the loudest he'd heard her speak since getting on the plane.

He nodded, not knowing what to say.

Someone knocked on the door and told them lunch was ready.  A 
baby started crying somewhere and was shushed almost immediately.

He stood, waiting on her.  "I'm not hungry," she whispered, 
crawling up to the pillow and resting on her side, away from him.

He knew that he should at least offer to bring her something if 
she didn't want to go downstairs.  She hadn't eaten in the last 
eighteen hours, he knew, and there was no way she couldn't be 
hungry.

Instead, he pulled the comforter over her body, and turned out 
the light as he closed her door.

<><><><><><>

The sleep was fitful, but consistent.  She dreamed of darkness, 
of needles going into her arm and drawing her blood out, of IVs 
carrying some kind of substance she didn't recognize into her 
veins.  She remembered asking them, begging them to tell her what 
it was - they were putting something into her body and she didn't 
know what it was, she didn't know what it might do, or make her 
do - but they never spoke to her other than to order her to do 
something, or to chastise her for not doing it right.

It was yelling that awoke her, and for a few terrifying seconds, 
she thought she was back, and that returning to life had been the 
nightmare.  The guards were coming and they were angry, it was 
always worse when they were angry.  She'd been good today, 
though.  She didn't fight them, didn't scream or run or ask them 
questions.  They couldn't be angry at her, god, please no, not 
me.

She always felt badly for wishing the pain and torture to others.  
The worst, though, was being a doctor, being willing to help 
people but being unable.  You heard the beatings and the screams 
and the insults through the cement walls and you had to lay in 
your cell, wondering what they were doing to the person, if the 
person was okay or if they needed help.  Even if they did, you 
were useless to them.  You were weak, dehydrated, your shoulder 
was dislocated from a guard throwing you against the wall nights 
and days ago...

It was nearly dark outside, but she could see enough to know that 
she wasn't back in that place, that she was sleeping in her 
nephew's bedroom and someone was yelling at someone else 
downstairs.

"What do you mean, THERAPY?  She needs to be in a HOSPITAL where 
they can TREAT her without her running AWAY!"  An angry voice 
said.

She rose from the bed, fighting dizziness and the empty gurgle of 
her stomach, and walked towards the door, opening it a crack.

"No, that's the last thing she needs.  She was held against her 
will for nine years, you think holding her someplace else will 
help her to get better?  What she needs is a little patience and 
understand from all of us," a voice countered, calm, but barely 
restrained.

"She doesn't need anything from you, you son of a bitch," the 
first voice shot back.  "You've done enough.  Get out of my house 
before I call base security!"

There wasn't a light in the hallway, and she peaked her head out, 
making sure that they couldn't see her.

The second voice didn't respond right away, but she could hear 
heavy footsteps on the floor.  "I'm not leaving if you're just 
gonna send her to some god-forsaken hospital so YOU don't have to 
deal with her," it finally said, not so calm.

"You do NOT tell me how to treat my sister!"

"Well, someone has to.  You certainly don't know how to do it."

"You son of a- "

"Bill!"  She heard her mother say.  The voices stopped.  "I don't 
think that you two arguing is going to help Dana at all."

Silently, she walked towards the stairs, and the voices got 
louder.

Heavy footsteps increased, and she imagined both of them pacing 
the floor, circling around each other and waiting for a 
vulnerability.

"Fox, I know you're just looking out for her, but I don't think 
you know her as well as we do.  We're her family, we've known her 
all her life.  You two may have been friends, but that was only 
for a couple of years, and it was a long time ago," her mother 
continued.

"That doesn't change anything," Mulder tried, sounding 
increasingly desperate.  "That doesn't change the fact that the 
last thing she needs is for control over her life to be taken 
away again.  -She- needs to make decisions, -she- needs to be the 
one to determine the direction of her life, not you, or me, or 
anyone else."

"We let her make decisions and it got her arrested for 
prostitution," her brother sneered.

"We shouldn't have let her go off alone," Mulder admitted sadly.  
"It was a mistake- "

"Her decision to work with you was a mistake, all you've done is 
make everything worse, and I'm not gonna stand for it any more.  
You can leave right now, or you can be escorted off base."

She heard Mulder sigh, guilty and defeated.  "Not until I talk to 
her again."  Her brother opened his mouth to call him another 
name, but he stopped.  "I'll leave, if that's what you want, but 
not until I talk to her again.  If she wants to stay, I'll let 
her, but if not, she's leaving with me."

"Like hell- "  her brother started.

Mulder ignored him.  "Mrs. Scully?"  He asked, seeking her 
permission to talk to her again, to give her control over this 
decision.

"Okay, Fox.  Go ahead," she said softly.

She could see them all now, her mother and Tara sitting at the 
kitchen table, one child each on their laps, another sitting on 
the floor with matchbox cars.  Bill angrily fuming as he paced 
the kitchen; Mulder on the outside, posed for a fight.  At her 
mother's word, he turned towards the stairs, only taking a few 
steps before he saw her at the top, staring down at him with 
wide, fearful eyes.

"Scully," he murmured, climbing the first few stairs to her.  
Everyone in the kitchen turned, seeing her standing there, and a 
disappointed rumble rose among them.  "You feeling better?"  He 
asked her as she walked towards him, stopping on the step above 
him.

"I was," she admitted shakily, pulling his jacket close around 
her for warmth.

He nodded, his expression sad and apologetic.  "Why don't you 
come downstairs," he offered, holding out his hand for support.

She stared at it for a few seconds before taking it, letting him 
lead her into the arena and to a chair opposite Tara and the 
toddler from before.

He sat down beside her, waiting on someone - probably Bill - to 
apologize for her overhearing their conversation.  No one did, 
and no one was going to, probably.  It wasn't their fault she was 
eavesdropping on their honest discussion about what they should 
do with her.

"You hungry?"  He finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

She shook her head, smoothing the edges of the jacket over her 
legs.

He lowered his voice, but everyone could still hear.  "You 
haven't eaten in at least twenty-four hours, Scully."

She bit her lip, then whispered.  "Okay."

He looked at her mother and she stood, handing the infant to Bill 
and opening the cabinets.  "Do you want some soup?  We have 
tomato, chicken and rice...tomato would be best, I think."

The only sounds were of her opening the can, turning on the 
microwave.  On the floor, the little boy stopped playing with his 
cars and went to stand beside his mother, nervous.  Tara told him 
to take his brother into the living room, and the two boys walked 
off.

Mulder must've noticed her watching them.  "The oldest one is 
Mathew.  He's four and a half.  The other is James and he just 
turned two," he explained.

She nodded sadly, a tiny tear escaping one eye.  She reached to 
erase it, embarrassed.

Bill's heavy footsteps led him to stand behind his wife, face-to-
face with Scully.  He looked down at her with a leaden stare, 
scowling and livid.

The microwave beeped, and she jumped, her eyes going wide.  "It's 
okay," Mulder assured her, touching her arm lightly.

Bill huffed a sigh, then handed the infant to Tara.  "I think 
it's about his bedtime, don't you?"  He asked rhetorically.  
Tara, the ever dutiful and obedient wife, rose, smiled, and 
disappeared with the baby.

Bill then started by clearing his throat, resuming a slow circuit 
behind the table.  "Charles is sorry he can't be here.  He said 
he'd like to talk to you.  He probably doesn't want to see you 
like this."

"Don't," Mulder warned him, his voice gentle but stern.

"You stay out of this," he answered.  "You've done enough all 
ready."

Mulder stood.  "C'mon," he said to her.  "Let's go upstairs."

"No.  She's not going anywhere with you."

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment.  Her mother 
interrupted them by setting the bowl of steaming soup in front of 
her.  "Let her eat," she told them both.  

Mulder sat back down and Bill paced.

"We need to talk, Dana," Bill began again.  "About what happens 
now.  If you're gonna stay here, there's gonna be some rules."

Mulder shook his head, but didn't try to stop him.

"First of all, you need to do something about the way you look.  
You're scaring the boys."

She could see her reflection in the placid liquid: she must look 
like a witch to them, something out of nightmares and Halloween.

"Second of all, you're going to a doctor and getting some 
medication.  I won't have you moping around all day feeling sorry 
for yourself.  I always thought you were stronger than that.  
Third, you can't- "

"Did you miss me at all?"  She interrupted quietly, speaking 
towards her untouched bowl of soup.

He paused, taking a deep breath.  "Yes, I did," he bit out 
angrily.  "But there's no excuse for you acting the way you are.  
Taking off without a word, becoming a prostitute...that's sick, 
Dana.  It's disgusting and shameful and you were raised better 
than that."

Mulder tried to defend her.  "If you knew anything about what 
she's been through, you'd know that those are all normal 
reactions- "

"This is normal?"  He shouted, gesturing to her.  "Running off to 
God knows where, getting arrested - that's NORMAL?"

Mulder bit his lip, probably not wanting to curse in front of her 
mother.

"Dana, aren't you hungry?"  Her mother asked, leaning over the 
table to look into her daughter's face.

She shook her head slowly, lying, as another tear dripped down 
her cheek.

"If you've been using drugs, Dana, so help me God- "

"That's it.  Come on Scully, we're leaving."  Mulder stood and 
Scully followed him.

"You're not taking her anywhere!"  Bill yelled, chasing them into 
the living room, where Mathew and James were playing quietly.  
Both boys looked up in fear as their father entered, his face red 
and furious.  "If you do, I'll have base security stop you at the 
gate, then you'll be the one in prison.  She's.  Staying.  Here."

He pushed her behind him, closer to the front door.  Sitting in 
the driveway, she noticed, was a bright yellow taxi cab, an 
impatient driver behind its wheel.  "She's not staying here to be 
ridiculed and called names.  She's coming with me so she can get 
some help."

God, she was so close to escaping - just a few feet to the door.  
This was what she was afraid of, this is what she was trying to 
avoid by running away.  Please, Mulder, take me away, she chanted 
in her head, reaching for his hand and grasping it like a 
lifeline.

"Boys, please," her mother pleaded, gesturing to the children on 
the floor.  "Not here."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully," Mulder told her.  "I said I'd give this 
a chance, and I did, but I can't leave her here knowing that this 
is what it'll be like."  He turned to her, using his shoulders to 
block everyone else out.  "You go wait in the car.  I'll get your 
things and we'll go, okay?"  He asked.

She nodded eagerly, afraid to let him go.

"It's okay," he assured her.  "Go on."

As she released his hand and he started up the stairs, a cell 
phone rang, sounding overly loud in the sudden quiet of the 
house.  "Dammit," he whispered, pulling his phone out of his 
pocket.

Behind them, Bill chuffed a laugh and went back into the kitchen.  
Her mother lingering in the doorway separating the two rooms, 
watching Mulder curiously.

"Mulder," he said tiredly.  "Hey.  I-I'm sorry.  I completely 
forgot.  I meant to call you when we landed...no, no, I'm in Texas, 
but I'm about to catch a flight out.  Yeah, she's here.  She's 
okay.  I know...I know...I'm sorry.  No, I'm bringing her home with 
me."

Scully's shoulders and back stiffened, and she turned away from 
the front door.  He didn't have to tell her it was Diana.

Mulder didn't speak for a few seconds, listening.  Finally, 
"okay, I will.  I love you, too."  Then he hung up.

"My fiancee," he explained to her mother, who glanced quickly at 
her, then nodded sadly and went back into the kitchen, probably 
to throw away the soup that had been wasted on her.

"She was worried," he continued.  "I forgot to call her..."

She nodded, head down, arms wrapped tightly around her.

"You go ahead.  I'll be there in a minute," he told her again, 
squeezing one shoulder for reassurance.

She shook her head and he leaned down, curious.  "You said..." she 
cleared her teary throat.  "You said I get a choice.  About being 
here or going with you."

"Yeah."

"I want to stay here."

"What?"  He asked, stepping closer to her.  She stepped back, 
holding her arms up to tell him to stop.

"You...you don't have room for me in your life.  I realize that.  I 
can stay here...I'll be fine," she said softly, knowing that he 
didn't believe it any more than she did.

"Scully, you can't stay here.  Not with your brother like that."

"But you said I get a choice.  This is my choice."

He sighed, confused.  "Why?"

"Because...it would be better...for you...and for me."

He closed his eyes, cursing his damn cell phone.  "I can't let 
you stay here, Scully.  This is the worst place for you right 
now."

She shook her head, adamant.  "But you said I get a choice," she 
repeated.

"And if I thought you meant it, I'd honor it," he snapped, 
immediately regretting his angry tone.

"I do.  I do mean it."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."  She had to convince him.  She had to make him 
leave.  He had to go before she lost control and started sobbing 
about how much she hated this new life she'd come back to and 
begging him not to leave her.

"Mr. Mulder?"  Bill asked from behind them.  Mulder turned.  "You 
heard her.  You have two minutes before I call security."  His 
hand hovered over the telephone, itching to pick it up.

Mulder looked back at her, at Bill, then back to her again.  He 
rubbed his forehead like it ached terribly, then sighed.  "Okay.  
Okay, I'll go.  Scully?"

He was telling her this was her last chance to stop him.  She 
dropped her eyes, rewrapping her arms around her middle.

He bent down to her ear, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.  
"I'll call you when I get home.  Here's my new phone number," he 
handed her his Bureau card with his home and cell number in bold 
black letters.  "Call me if you need anything, any time, okay?  
If you want me to come get you, just let me know.  I'll be here."

She stared at the card, nodding dumbly.

He turned to Bill and her mother, who had reappeared.  "Mrs. 
Scully, if anything happens, if you need anything, call me," he 
told her, too.

She nodded, but Bill scowled.  "We don't need anything from you, 
thank you."

Mulder nodded, sad and defeated.  "Goodbye, Scully," he said to 
her softly as he passed her, walked out the door, and let the 
taxi drive away without another word.

She stood at the door until the taillights faded into the 
darkness.

"Thank God he's gone," Bill said, herding his sons upstairs for 
bed.

"Dana," her mother said, coming up behind her and startling her.  
"Do you want your soup now?  I can reheat it, it's no trouble."

She shook her head, walking unsteadily up the stairs and 
collapsing on her nephew's bed.  The door didn't have a lock, but 
she'd closed it firmly, and no one should've bothered her.

Alone in the darkness, she quietly cried until she fell into 
another fitful, dream-filled sleep.

<><><>End<><><>

website: geocities.com/lil_gusty