Title - Secrets From the Past

Author - Henle Girl

Rating - R for disturbing subject matter

Category - Mulder/Scully Romance, Angst

Spoilers - Chimera

Summary - As memories from Scully's past begin to manifest themselves to her, Mrs. Scully learns the hard way how buried secrets can come back to haunt you. 

Disclaimer - The characters don't belong to me.  I'm just borrowing them for my own therapeutic purposes.  They will be returned relatively unharmed to Chris Carter, or whoever wants to borrow them next, when I'm done.

 

Secrets From the Past

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 1

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The pain is too much.  Too much for her to bear.  She just wants it to be over.  It's been going on for too long as it is. 

 

"Push, Dana," a deep voice commands.  She's too afraid to do anything.  But somehow, her body knows what to do and obeys.

 

"Good girl.  Now rest for a minute."

 

Again she obeys.  This time willingly.  She tries in vain to get her breath back, but finds all she can do is pant.

 

"Almost done, Dana.  You're doing great."

 

The voice sounds like her mother.  She looks up in shock, but can only see a bright light.  The light gets brighter and brighter until she can no longer keep her eyes open.  She squeezes them shut to block out the light.

 

"Mmm," Dana Scully groans, rolling over to avoid the sunlight streaming through her window.  She sits up abruptly once she realizes where she is.  She looks around in confusion.

 

"Just a crazy dream," she says, shaking her head to clear it.  The same thing for almost a month now.  Not necessarily a bad dream.  Just kind of weird in the way it almost feels real.

 

She shakes her head again.  No time to think of things like that.  She's late for work.

 

An hour and a half later finds her strolling into the office she shares with her partner, Fox Mulder.

 

"Good morning, Scully," he says cheerfully, not even looking up from the file he's reading.  "You're late."

 

"I know," she says absently.  "I overslept or something."

 

He hears the tone in her voice and is instantly concerned, looking up at her.

 

"Are you alright?" he asks.  "You having nightmares?"

 

"Something like that," she nods, sitting in her seat.  She boots up her computer and tries to focus on work when she notices that he's just staring at her.  "What?"

 

"You want to talk about it?"

 

"About what?" she asks.

 

"The nightmare."

 

"It wasn't really a nightmare," she says.  "It was nothing.  Just a weird dream."

 

"It was weird enough to disturb you, Scully.  I'd say that's not nothing."

 

"Is that your professional opinion?" she asks him in a teasing fashion.  "Are you an expert at analyzing dreams, Mulder?"

 

"Scoff if you will, Scully, but you know what they say about dreams being the answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask."

 

"Do *they* say that Mulder, or do you?" she asks with an amused grin on her face.  "Because I seem to remember you being the one . . . "

 

"Aren't you the funny one this morning," he says sarcastically, interrupting her further teasing.  He can see that she's using it as a tactic to avoid the real problem.  Normally he'd take it as a clue to leave her alone and let her deal with it her own way.  But he's not going to let her get away with it today.  "Now, do you want my help or not?"

 

"Why not," she shrugs.  "It's not like I have anything to lose."

 

"Thank you.  Your vote of confidence in me is so overwhelming.  Do I need to remind you that I graduated top in my class from Oxford with a doctorate degree in psychology?"

 

"No Mulder, you don't," she says, trying to hold in a smile.

 

"Okay, then.  Tell me about this dream of yours."

 

"I don't really remember all of it. Just bits and pieces.  But mainly, it's about me.  I'm in labor and my mom is there to coach me.  I always wake up before the baby is born."

 

"How long have you been having this dream?"

 

"Just about every night this month," she tells him.  "So, Doc. What does it all mean?"

 

"Well, I'm thinking two possible scenarios here.  Number one, you mentioned your mother and you being in labor, but you always wake up before the baby is born.  The unseen baby may represent a future child.  And your mother being there as your coach may be a manifestation of any guilt you have over not having given her a grandchild yet."

 

"Seeing as how I can't have children, I'm thinking that's not it.  Try again, Freud."

 

"Okay, my second theory is a little more general.  Usually when a woman starts dreaming of having children, it signifies her unconscious desire to propagate with a key male figure in her life."

 

"You're making this up now," she says skeptically, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised on his behalf.  "I don't buy that theory either."

 

"Why?  No key male figures?  No significant others?"

 

"Other than you?  No," she says nonchalantly, causing him to draw in his breath suddenly.  She notices his shock and questions him about it.  "Don't tell me you didn't know, Mulder."

 

"That I'm your significant other?"

 

"Well, not in the widely understood definition of that term.  But yeah.  I guess you are the key male figure in my life.  My so called significant other."  She sees him laughing and again has to question him about his reaction.  "What's so funny?"

 

"Not funny. Just . . . spooky.  You remember that case in Vermont I handled while your were on stakeout duty?  Where the whacked out house wife went around killing her husband's mistresses?"

 

"I don't think I'll ever forget that time, Mulder," she says, rolling her eyes, remembering the sight of drunken frat boys peeing and vomiting into the gutters.  It's an image unfortunately emblazoned on her brain.  "What about it?"

 

"The woman asked me about you.  Well, actually, she asked if I had a significant other, and I responded exactly the same way you did.  Using the exact same words and all."

 

"Weird.  I guess it's true what they say.  Great minds think alike," she smiles.  But as she goes back to work, her own mind begins to pick apart the conversation and the secrets they revealed to each other.  Mulder's her significant other.  She's Mulder's significant other.  In a way, she knew that already.  However, they've never openly admitted it to each other.  It's taken them seven years to get to this point.  Now that it's out in the open, she assumes they'll ignore it as usual.  But she can't help but wonder.  What exactly does it all mean?  For them to be significant others.  In *any* definition of the term.  She sighs to herself, hoping that the question doesn't need another seven years to answer.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 2

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Scully turns off her television when she hears the knock on the door.  She's almost shocked he waited this long to show up.  It's been a week since the 'significant other' conversation in the office.  Like she assumed would happen, the conversation seemed to have been forgotten.  But she could see the questions brimming under the cool front Mulder tried to present.  She knew it was only a matter of time before he wanted to talk about it.  Now apparently is that time.

 

"Coming," she calls out, crossing the room to open the door.  She pauses momentarily in shock as she peers through the peephole.  It's not Mulder.  It's someone she didn't expect.  She opens the door to her guest.  "Mom?"

 

"Hi Dana," the woman says cheerfully, shoving a bag into her daughter's hands.  She pushes her way into the apartment, not waiting on an invitation.

 

"What are you doing here?" Scully asks her.  "I wasn't expecting you?"

 

"Can't a mother just visit with her daughter from time to time?" Mrs. Scully asks innocently.  But Scully knows her mother.  She knows that the woman has an ulterior motive.  She gives her mother *the* look she usually reserves for Mulder and her mother cracks.  "Okay, okay.  So this isn't just a social visit.  I'm worried about you, Honey.  The last time I saw you, I noticed you seemed tired.  And too thin.  I brought over some dinner so that I can see you eat at least one meal with my own eyes."

 

"That's sweet, Mom," Scully says, visibly softening her glare.  "Dinner would be great."

 

She helps her mother unpack the bags and sets the table for the meal.  They chat comfortably for a few minutes before sitting down to eat.  As much as she hates her mother's meddling, this dinner is a really good idea.  She feels better already.

 

"How are you really, Dana?" her mother asks.

 

"I'm fine, Mom.  Really, I am.  I'm just tired.  I haven't been sleeping well.  Weird dreams."

 

"Nightmares?" her mother asks.

 

"No.  Not really.  Just kind of strange," she says and leaves it at that.  She refuses to get into the dream itself or its possible meanings that Mulder suggested.  She has a feeling she'd never hear the end of it from her mother.

 

Luckily she won't have to talk about it any further.  Another knock at the door interrupts the meal.  She gratefully excuses herself to answer it.

 

"Mulder," she says, shocked to see him even though she had been expecting his visit all week.  But she had forgotten all about him while visiting with her mother.  "Come on in.  You're just in time for dinner."

 

"Dinner?  You cooked, Scully?  You shouldn't have," he says with a leer.  He takes his jacket off and lays it across the back of the sofa.

 

"I didn't.  Mom brought it," she says, showing him the way to the table.  She goes into the kitchen and brings another place setting for him and comes back to the sight of him embracing her mother.  She smiles, feeling a warmth spread throughout her body at the way the two most important people in her life adore each other.

 

"Oh, good.  You got another plate so that Fox can join us," her mother says, already scooping up a hearty portion of the meal for the man.  "What brings you by?"

 

"Just checking on Dana," he says, almost shyly.

 

"That's so nice.  It's good to know someone's looking out for her when I can't," Mrs. Scully smiles, causing Mulder to blush.  You would think he was a puppy getting a pat on the head for being good by the look on his face.

 

"This is great, Mrs. Scully," Mulder gushes after taking a taste of the food.  "I don't get home cooking very often."

 

"Dana, you don't cook for the man?" her mother asks her, seemingly surprised at her daughter's actions and not realizing how old-fashioned her ideals seem.

 

"Yeah, *Dana*," Mulder says teasingly.  "Don't you know that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach?"

 

"Actually, I can get there lot faster with my scalpel," she says, holding up her steak knife in a threatening way.  But he can see playfulness in her eyes and gives her an amused grin.

 

"Touche, Dr. Scully," he laughs.

 

"Dana," her mother gasps.  "Put that knife down, for Heaven's sake."

 

She looks back and forth between Mulder and Scully and casts them a scolding glare that only a mother can.  They instantly start to behave themselves, although she can see a look pass between them that seems to say 'this isn't over yet.'  She almost laughs out loud, but is able to hold it in.  It's so obvious to her how these two feel about each other.  She hopes that one day, they'll be able to see it as well.

 

"This really is delicious, Mrs. Scully," Mulder says, complimenting her again on her cooking.  "Maybe one day I can convince Dana to make it for me.  Can she cook as well as you?"

 

"Even better," Mrs. Scully says.

 

"What are you talking about?" Scully asks her, looking at her mother as if she had grown another head.  "I can cook enough to get by, but I'd hardly consider myself good at it."

 

"You're kidding me?" her mother asks.  "Dana, you used to cook all the time when you were younger.  In fact, I remember hosting a dinner party once and you prepared all the food.  Everyone who attended couldn't say enough about the meal."

 

"Are you sure?  I don't remember that at all," Scully says.

 

"Yes, Dana.  You were . . . oh, I don't remember how old you were.  14.  15, maybe.  Anyway, it was that time when your father's side of the family came for a visit.  Your Aunt Doris was there.  She's the one you look so much like.  And her hu. . ."  Mrs. Scully stops abruptly, her face suddenly turning very pale.  "Actually never mind.  I may have been mistaken."

 

"No, maybe you aren't mistaken.  "It's funny, but I think I'm actually starting to remember now," Scully says, her face scrunching in concentration.  "Aunt Doris was Dad's youngest sister, right?  She brought her husband along.  Lonnie?  No, Lochlyn.  That's it.  Uncle Lochlyn.  I haven't thought about him in ages.  Wasn't he the one who . . ."

 

"No he isn't.  Now you're the one mistaken," Mrs. Scully snaps at her.  As a tense silence falls on the room, she looks up and sees the shocked look on her daughter's face and instantly regrets yelling.  She takes a moment to calm herself before speaking again.  "Like I said before, I was wrong.  I was thinking of something else and got confused."

 

"What were you think of?" Scully wants to know, confused by her mother's outburst.  She notices the woman's agitation, but is more curious about what's causing it.

 

"Hey, Scully. How about we drop it, okay?" Mulder suggests.  He can also see that Mrs. Scully's upset, but realizes that further questioning will only upset her even more. "Your mom is starting to look kind of tired."

 

"He's right, Sweetheart.  It's been a long day," Mrs. Scully says, rising from her chair.  "You two aren't done eating yet, but I am.  I think I'll head home now."

 

"Of course, Mom," Scully says, eyeing her suspiciously.  She's never seen her mother act this way.  Nervous.  Sketchy, even.  She's like a suspect trying to avoid answering questions.  Her mother's in an awfully big hurry to leave and Scully realizes she won't be able to stop her.  So she stands as well and walks her mother to the door.  "Drive safely."

 

"I will," her mother says quickly after pasting on a fake looking smile on her face.  "Good night, Dana."

 

"Good night," Scully says and finds herself talking the back of her mother as she hurries out the door.  She watches until her mother is out of sight before closing the door and going back inside.  "That was odd, Mulder."

 

"Very odd," he agrees.  "But your mother seemed to be getting kind of stressed with the questions you were asking her.  I don't think you were going to get any more answers out of her."

 

"Oh, I'm sure you're right.  And I'm glad you noticed and stopped me," she says.  "Maybe I'll ask her about it some other time.  I'm pretty sure there's something she's not telling me."

 

"I think you're right about that.  Something about that Lochlyn guy seems to be what set her off."

 

"I don't know why," Scully shrugs.  Realizing that dinner is probably ruined, she starts clearing the table.  Mulder helps her and they continue their conversation at the kitchen sink.  "Uncle Lochlyn was the fun uncle.  The one who always wanted to hang out with the kids all the time."

 

"So what happened to make your mother dislike him so?"

 

"I have no idea, Mulder," she sighs.  "The strange thing is that up until today, I didn't even remember him.  I guess at some point in time, my father had a falling out or something with his family.  Because thinking back, I don't remember any of them ever being mentioned."

 

"But your remember this Lochlyn."

 

"I do now," she says absently.  Her mind's not really on the conversation with Mulder anymore.  She mechanically washes the dishes as she thinks about what just happened with her mother.  Something is there, on the edge of her mind, but she can't quite figure it out.  Kind of like with the dream.  She has a feeling there's something about it that she's not quite grasping.  "I'm almost done here.  Why don't you wait out in the living room.  I'll make us some coffee."

 

He complies, realizing what she's really asking for is a moment alone.  A moment to thinks some things through and try to figure out what's going on.  And something *is* going on.  He can feel it.  He wants to help her get to the bottom of it.  Taking out his cell phone, he dials the number of someone who can help him help her.

 

"Langly, it's me," he says when the call is answered.  "I need a favor.  I need some info on a man named Lochlyn.  I don't have a last name, but from what I know, he was married to one of Scully's aunts on her father's side.  A woman named Doris.  I'm guessing her maiden name is Scully as well."

 

After chatting for a few more minutes, he hangs up the phone, just in time to watch Scully come into the living room with two cups of coffee.

 

"How are you doing?" he asks her, knowing this whole thing is bothering her more than she's letting on.

 

"I'm just confused, Mulder," she sighs.  "I don't know anything.  I feel like my mother is keeping this big secret from me and I don't even know what questions to ask her to try to figure it out.  I don't even know what questions to ask myself."

 

"Why don't we just forget about it for awhile, then," he suggests.  "We can talk about something else."

 

"Are you sure you're my Mulder?  My obsessive Mulder?" she asks teasingly.  "Since when do you take the 'just forget it for awhile' approach to dealing with the past?"

 

"Since I can see this is tearing you up.  You need to step back from this for a minute," he says, reaching to her face to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  Afterwards, he lets a finger gently skim down her cheek.  "Besides, since when have I became *your* Mulder?"  He smiles at the blush staining her cheeks.  She probably didn't even realize she referred to him that way.

 

"I thought we discussed this last week at the office," she says tentatively, not sure if she wants to be bringing this up now.  "I figured with you being my significant other and all . . . "

 

"I see," he smiles.  "I think I understand.  You figure you have the right to be possessive."

 

"Exactly," she giggles. 

 

The giggle is what does him in.  She sounds so light and carefree.  So happy.  He wants to feel that same happiness.

 

"Then I guess I have rights too," he says, moving closer to her.  He lifts his hand to the back of her neck and pulls her towards him, resting her forehead against his.  "I guess I have the right to do this."

 

He closes the tiny distance and presses his lips against hers, gently at first to avoid spooking her.  When she doesn't pull away, he moves to deepen it, shocked that she allows it.  But her active participation is what causes him to groan out loud.  He whimpers helplessly as she pulls his bottom lip into her mouth and gently nibbles on it.

 

"I've always wanted to do that," she smiles dreamily, her eyes half closed.  She licks her glistening lips and sighs, dropping her forehead back against his.  "That bottom lip has been tempting me for seven years now."

 

"What stopped you?" he asks with a leer.  "I'm sure I would have eagerly aided in your quest to give in to temptation."

 

"I bet you would have," she laughs as she rolls her eyes at him.  "I guess it's a good thing Mom gave this cross to me when she did.  It helped me to resist all kinds of temptation in the past.  I guess it helped me resist you as well."

 

"She gave it to you on your 15th birthday, right?  I guess that is a temptation filled time for a young girl," he says, adding another leering glance that makes her blush again.

 

"I suppose you're right," she says.  "But I didn't get this for my birthday.  I got it on Christmas.  She got one for both me and Melissa."

 

"Christmas?  I'm pretty sure your mom said you got it for your birthday," he tells her, confused at the varying stories.  "It was when you were missing.  I went to see her to give her your cross after I'd found it in Duane Barry's car.  That's when she told me when she bought it for you."

 

"And she said it was a birthday gift?" Scully asks.  "Well, maybe it was.  Maybe I got the memory wrong."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Actually, this may help explain things from my end about why I had forgotten about Uncle Lochlyn.  There are quite a few things about my childhood I had forgotten."

 

"Yeah, and there's a lot I don't remember about my first year at Oxford.  But that's because of the amount of alcohol I consumed," he says.  "Why would you forget about your childhood?  Were you drunk too?  Abducted?" he asks quietly, his eyes widening at the prospect.

 

"No, silly," she laughs.  "I wasn't abducted.  And I didn't drink my way through adolescence.  There was a car accident.  I had a case of amnesia.  Some things around my 15th birthday have been completely forgotten.  A lot of what I know from that time has been from what people have told me."

 

"You're kidding me?  I never knew that.  Why didn't you ever tell me?"

 

"Because I forgot?  Will you take that as an excuse?  I mean, I *did* have amnesia," she says jokingly before shrugging.  "I guess it just wasn't that big of a deal." 

 

She reaches for the remote and turns on the TV for him, signaling the end of the conversation.  Mulder takes a chance and puts his arm around Scully, pleased when she cuddles with him.  But he finds himself unable to fully focus on the TV or on the feeling of having Scully in his arms.  Something about tonight is nagging at him.  And he feels he won't rest until he figures out what it is.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 3

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder flips through the channels on his TV once more.  He can't sleep.  Which isn't that uncommon an occurrence for him.  But tonight he knows the reason why.  The turn of events tonight at Scully's house is too much for his overactive mind to ignore.  Not so much the kiss.  Although he has dreamed of doing that.  Of kissing her.  That sweet peck they shared on New Years was nothing compared to this kiss.  He felt his insides literally turning to goo. 

 

But the best was the end of the evening when he left.  They stood nervously at the door for a few moments until all of a sudden, it happened again.  He doesn't know if he kissed her or if she kissed him, but before he could realize what was happening, they were saying good night in a way that they never have before.  With regret, he pulled away, breaking the kiss.  He couldn't take anymore.  A few more seconds and he would have had to force his way back inside.  Not that she would have resisted, he thinks with a smile.

 

But it wouldn't have been a good idea.  There's too much other stuff going on.  And it's that 'other stuff' that has him up and thinking this time of night.  Something just isn't right about the whole thing.  He can see that bits and pieces of the puzzle are in place.  Her mother's strange behavior that evening.  Scully's temporary amnesia suffered as a child.  It's all there, but he's missing the whole picture. 

 

The ringing of the phone stirs him out of his heavy thinking.  Before picking it up, he notes the time.  It's almost three in the morning.  Who could be calling at this time?

 

"Hello?" he answers, rubbing a hand through his already messy hair.

 

"Mulder.  It's me."  Her voice is soft, almost as if she's crying and is trying to hide it.  This instantly alerts him.

 

"What's wrong, Scully?" he asks, already sliding his feet back into his shoes.  He's mentally plotting out the trip back to her apartment, knowing that's where he's going to end up after this conversation.

 

"I . . . I'm scared," she says with a sniff, proving to him his theory that she had been crying.  He's really afraid now.  There isn't much that makes Scully cry.

 

"I'm coming over, Scully," he says as he finds a sweatshirt to pull over his head.

 

"No," she says quickly.  "Don't come to my apartment.  I'm not there."

 

"Then where are you?" he asks.  All he hears on the other end is silence.  He realizes a moment later that she hung up on him.  As he's about to call her back, a light tapping sound comes from his front door.  He tosses the phone on the couch and goes to answer it.

 

"Hi," she says with a shy smile.  "I thought I'd save you the time."

 

"Not that I'm not happy to see your or anything, but what are you doing here this time of night, Scully?"

 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she laughs nervously.  "I hardly believe it myself.  Go get dressed and packed.  I have tickets leaving on the 5:15 a.m. flight to Cincinnati."

 

"Isn't that usually my line?" he teases.  "What's going on, Scully?  Why are we going to Ohio?"

 

She lowers her head, almost bashfully, and he can hardly hear her when she speaks.

 

"Let's just go.  I'll tell you on the way.  I promise," she practically whispers.

 

He studies her for a second and almost considers refusing to move until she explains things to him.  But realizes that he's done this to her several times before.  More times than he can count, actually.  And every time she follows him, without questions.  He owes her the benefit of the doubt in this case.

 

"Give me ten minutes," he sighs. 

 

She watches him walk back to his bedroom to gather his things.  She sinks to the couch, letting out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding.  How is she going to explain this to him?  She can hardly explain it to herself.

 

True to his word, he comes back out into the living room ten minutes later dressed and ready to go.  They silently walk out the apartment together, the truth behind Scully's secret mission still evading him.  Based on the look on her face, this is something big. Something she can't handle alone.  He's just glad she came to him for help.  Grabbing her hand, he gives it a gentle squeeze, just letting her know that everything will be alright.  He just wishes he believed it himself.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Once they land in Cincinnati, they rent a car and silently load their luggage.  She remained quiet the whole flight, keeping a tight grasp on his hand.  So the purpose behind this trip is still unknown to him.  He's about to ask her where they're headed when she gives him a slip of paper.

 

"This is address," she says quietly.  "The man at the rental car counter wrote out some directions for me."

 

"Where are we going?" he asks, not trying to push her, but trying to let her know that her time has run out.  It's time to let him know what's going on.

 

"I got a phone call about an hour after you left," she starts.  "It was a call much like the one I got out in San Diego that Christmas when I was visiting my brother."

 

"You got a phone call from Melissa?" he gasps. 

 

"Not this time," she whispers before clearing her throat.  She's trying to be so strong. He can see that.  But for some reason, this is so hard for her.  "This time it was . . I mean, I'm not sure but . . . it sounded like . . . Emily."

 

"Wh-what?" he manages to stutter, trying to hide his shock from her.  But it's kind of hard to sit here and listen to her tell him that the reason why the flew all the way to Cincinnati at five in the morning is because of a phone call she got from her dead daughter.

 

"I know you're having a hard time believing this," she says, a lone tear dripping down her face.  "I can hardly believe it either.  But the last time this happened, it lead me to Emily.  I couldn't ignore it this time."

 

"What did she say?"

 

"That someone needed my help.  Then she said . . . she said please hurry, Mommy."  With that, Mulder notices her shoulders shaking and the tears flowing freely.  He pulls the car over on the side of the road and wastes no time gathering her in his arms.  "She was begging for my help, Mulder."

 

"It's okay," he whispers, alternating gentle strokes up and down her back with light kisses to her forehead.  "It's going to be alright."

 

He holds her until she stops crying and gives her one more squeeze before letting her go.  He watches as she wipes away all traces of tears from her face, attempting to put back on her strong G-woman facade.

 

"I'm fine," she says, causing him to inwardly cringe at the familiar saying.  But she reaches across the seat and grabs his hand with her own and he understands what's she's truly saying.  That she is fine, but only because he's there with her.  He gives her a reassuring smile before pulling the car back onto the road.

 

Twenty minutes later, they pull up to a house surrounded by police cars, their light flashing in the early morning sky.  The crowds part for them as they show their badges, finding a way inside the house.  They quickly run into the detective in charge.

 

"May I help you folks?"

 

"My name is Agent Mulder.  This is my partner Agent Scully.  We're with the bureau," Mulder speaks for them both, giving her the time to compose herself.

 

"I'm Detective Sanders.  I wasn't aware the bureau was involved.  It's a simple suicide," the detective tells them.

 

The word 'suicide' causes Scully's eyebrows to raise slightly.  This case is turning out to be more and more familiar to her.  First with receiving the phone call and now the suicide.

 

"This may be related to a case we previously handled," Scully says, making up a reason for them to be there.  "Can you give us a few details?"

 

"A young woman, Bridget Hanson, was found in her tub after having committed suicide."

 

"The tub," Scully gasps, images of Roberta Sim flashing in her head.  She takes a breath to try to get a hold of her nerves.  "Did her husband find her and call it in?"

 

"No, she wasn't married," Detective Sanders says.  "Unfortunately this was called in by her daughter.  A little girl named Devyn."

 

"A three year old," Scully guesses.  So far this case has striking similarities to the one she encountered out in California.  The mother's death being like Roberta Sim's.  The phone call she received leading her to this house.  It only make sense that the child would look like Emily.  "Blond hair?  Blue eyes?"

 

"How did you know?" the detective asks with some shock.  But after taking a moment to scrutinize Scully, he notices something.  "Are you related or something?  Because you look a whole lot like our victim upstairs."

 

"Excuse me?" Scully asks, not expecting that.

 

"Yeah, now that I think about it, you two could be sisters.  Twins almost.  Except she's a little younger.  And her hair is more blond than red.  Like the little girl's."

 

She definitely wasn't expecting that little twist.  She finds herself staring open mouthed at the detective, unable to get any words to come out.

 

"May we see the victim," Mulder says, speaking up for the first time in a few minutes.

 

"She's in the upstairs bathroom," the Detective says, nodding his head towards the stairs.

 

Mulder's about to turn and ask Scully if she's coming with him when a strangled gaspy sound escapes her.  She sounds as if she's having a hard time breathing.  When he follows her line of sight, he notices why.  A social worker is coming from the living room area carrying a small child.  A small child looking almost exactly like Emily Sim.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 4

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

She had expected it.  In theory.  But actually seeing the child . . . she can't breath.  It literally feels like vice closing in on her chest.  She attempts a few deep breaths, but only ends up sounding like she has emphysema.

 

"Scully?  Are you okay?" Mulder asks her, seeing that she's obviously anything but.  She can't manage to catch her breath to answer him, so she just shakes her head.  On that admission, he takes her by the arm and leads her out to the front porch where they'll have a little more privacy.  When they're alone, he wraps his arms around her, hugging her close to his body.

 

"Did you see her, Mulder?" she gasps.  "That little girl.  She looks just like, her.  She looks just like Emily.  What's going on here?  Have they made another one?"

 

"I don't know.  But we'll get to the bottom of it," he promises her.  "But you have to calm down.  We need to keep our heads in this situation and investigate this before evidence starts disappearing the way we've seen it happen so many times before."

 

"You think this is like what happened with Emily and her adopted parents?"  She pulls out of his embrace and looks up at him.

 

"It all seems the same," he shrugs.  "The murder rigged to look like a suicide.  The little girl who looks like Emily.  I don't see what else could be going on.  We'll have to run tests, though."

 

"I'll start with the autopsy," she tells him.  "We can also get a sample from the little girl to see if she's like Emily in any way."

 

"Scully, are you sure?  That detective said this woman could be your twin.  Doing an autopsy on her might be kind of weird."

 

"I have to, Mulder," she says quietly, although his objections really do make sense.  "If they treat this like a suicide, they won't do a thorough post mortem on her.  They'll probably miss the signs of murder, like they did in the Roberta Sim case.  I'll be okay," she smiles, trying to reassure him.

 

"If you insist on doing this, then I'm coming with you," he sighs, realizing that there's nothing he can do to stop her.  He pulls her close for one more hug before reluctantly letting her go.  He knows this is going to be hard on her.  If he can't stop her, all he can do is be there to catch her when she falls.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder paces nervously outside the autopsy bay, mentally calculating how long it will be before the autopsy is over.  Mulder knows that when Scully wants to do a through job, it could take hours.  He's not looking forward to spending hours out in the hallway, but he'll do whatever it takes for Scully.  She's going to need him afterwards.  And he's determined to be there for her. 

 

He's just getting settled in a seat with a magazine, preparing for a long wait, when the doors fly open and Scully rushes past him.  Another pathologist, a man that looks to be a few years older than him, comes out, a concerned look on his face.

 

"What happened in there?" Mulder asks.

 

"I wish I knew," the doctor shrugs.  "I pulled back the sheet and she rushed out of there like a first year med student.  Although, I must say I can hardly blame her.  It's spooky how much the victim resembles Dr. Scully."

 

"I tried to talk her out of doing the autopsy," Mulder sighs, running a hand through his hair.  "She insisted.  She has this need to prove herself to everybody."

 

"The only thing she would have been proving to anyone by doing that autopsy is that she has a heart of stone.  I don't know anyone who would be able to perform under those conditions.  I know I wouldn't have.  Is she going to be okay?"

 

"I think this has been too much for her.  We're going to head back home.  Do you think you can send us the results of your exam to us there?"

 

"Of course." the doctor nods.  "Along with the DNA work up both the mother and little girl she requested."

 

"Thanks.  And if you think of anything else, let me know."  Mulder pulls out one of his cards and hands it to the doctor.  The men shake hands before parting ways, the doctor back into the autopsy bay and Mulder to find Scully.  His search is successful a few minutes later when he runs across her coming out of the ladies bathroom.

 

"You okay, Scully?" he asks tentatively, not knowing what reaction to expect from her.

 

"I feel like a fool," she says quietly, holding her head down in shame.  "I ran out of there like it was the first dead body I'd ever seen."

 

"Or maybe it was because it's the first dead body you've ever seen that looks identical to yours.  Give yourself a break, Scully.  That's not an easy thing to face.  Trust me on this one.  That's why I have yet to see this body.  I don't think I could handle seeing you dead," he tells her, lifting a hand to her face to cup her cheek.

 

She leans into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his skin touching hers.  She furthers the contact by lifting her own hand and holding him closer.

 

"How about we get out of here?" he suggests.  "We can call the airport on the way to try to get a ticket back home."

 

"Mulder, I'm fine," she insists.  "There's more here we need to investigate."

 

"They're going to send the results to us in D.C.  Any investigating we can do from there," he counters.

 

"But . . . "

 

"But nothing.  Scully, can you honestly tell me you're up for this?"

 

"No," she practically whispers.

 

"Neither am I, to tell you the truth.  So let's go home, okay?  There's nothing more we can do here right now.  I promise you, if something in the DNA results or autopsy seems like a promising lead, we'll come right back out here."

 

"Well, since it doesn't seem like you're going to let go of this, I guess we can go back," she says, secretly relieved he made the decision.  She felt foolish even considering it seeing as how she was the one who got him up in the middle of the night to rush out here.  "Just let me change first."

 

He smiles and bends down to press a kiss on her cheek.

 

"Thank you," he whispers in her ear.  "Thank you for letting me take care of you for once, Scully."

 

She returns his smile before heading off to change back into her regular clothes.   When she returns, she finds him out in the parking lot waiting by the car.  She walks out to him and gets into the car, not even looking back once.  This is one autopsy she's glad to leave behind.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 5

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Trying to get a flight back to D.C at the last minute was harder than either of them thought it would be.  After several delays, they finally make it back home, exhausted when they walk into Scully's apartment. 

 

"I think that is officially the longest trip I've ever had from Ohio to D.C," Mulder groans.  "How about you?"

 

"I'll have to agree with you there," she smiles wearily, heading towards her room with her luggage.  "I'm shocked the test results haven't beaten us here."

 

Just then, there's a sharp knock at the door.  Mulder looks through the peep hole and sees a young man holding a package and a clip board.

 

"Well, let's just say that we just barely beat the test results," he says with a laugh.

 

"Go ahead and sign for the stuff, Mulder," she yells from the room.  "I'll be out in a second."

 

She quickly stashes her suitcase in the closet to unpack later.  Pulling out a pair of sweats, she pulls off the suit she traveled in and changes into the more comfortable items.  She grabs a pair of socks for her feet and joins Mulder out in her living room.

 

"Anything?" she ask when she notices him flipping through a folder with the victim's name on the outside.  "The autopsy results?"

 

"Yeah," he says, handing her the folder before picking up another one containing details of the crime scene.  The folder sits untouched in her lap for a moment, as if she's afraid to touch it.  "Scully?  You alright?"

 

"That seems to be the question of the day, doesn't it?" she says with a little laugh.  "It's just that I can't seem to get the image of her laying on that cold slab out of my mind.  Her hair was about the same length as mine, Mulder.  I think she dyed it to that blonder shade.  And her hands looked like my mother's.  Isn't that a strange thing to notice?"

 

"Not really," he says quietly, not really knowing what else to say.  He doesn't want to stop the flow of her feelings.  It's so rare that she shows them.  It's good that she's letting them out for a change.

 

"Yes.  It is," she says, shaking her head.  He can literally see her transform back into FBI mode.  "It's silly to sit here and wax poetic about some dead woman just because she resembled me.  The fact of the matter is, she died of something.  And we need to be trying to figure that out instead of playing let's guess the shape of her birthmark."

 

"Birthmark?"

 

"Another image burned in my mind for some reason.  She had a small, strawberry shaped mark behind her knee," she says nonchalantly, finally finding the courage to open the file.  She quickly flips past the pictures and goes straight to the page with the pathologist's findings.

 

"Scully, I thought the doctor said you barely made it past him pulling the sheet back," Mulder says, sounding very confused.

 

"Let's not talk about that," she groans.  "That was so embarrassing."

 

"That's not what I'm really trying to get at," he says, shaking his head.  "You mentioned her hair and her hands.  Those areas were visible to you.  But how did you know about the birthmark?"

 

"I must have seen it and didn't realize it," she explains logically, turning back to her file.  She misses the look on Mulder's face that says he's not buying that theory.  He doesn't have much time to dwell on it, though.  She lets out a small yelp when she reaches a part in the file she was looking for.

 

"What?"

 

"They found a tiny hole in the heel of the woman's foot, just like with Roberta Sim," she smiles.  "It's looking more like murder instead of suicide.  I just have to look at the toxicology results."

 

"And look at this," Mulder says, matching her news with a bit of his own.  "After getting word from the pathologist, the officers were able to find a syringe at the woman's house with a partial fingerprint. They're running it now.  I think you're right about this being murder."

 

"And maybe this print they found can lead us to the person that did this.  Maybe that person can lead us to information about Emily.  I refuse to believe all of this is coincidental, Mulder."

 

"I don't think so either," he says.  "Did you check out the DNA results yet?"

 

"Not yet," she says, reaching for the folder.  She opens it to the front page and starts to read it carefully so she won't miss anything.  After a few minutes, Mulder is too curious to keep silent any longer.

 

"So?  Is she related to Emily?  Is she . . . yours?"

 

"No.  She's not my daughter," Scully says.  "According to these test results, she's definitely Bridget Hanson's daughter."

 

"I hear a 'but' in there," Mulder says, noticing the confused look on her face.  "What else does it say?"

 

"She's definitely Bridget Hanson's daughter, but they also found a strong compatibility between my blood and the little girl's blood.  So they ran a test on my blood and Bridget Hanson's blood . . . "

 

Mulder watches with much concern and just the slightest bit of amusement as all the blood visibly drains from Scully's face.  He has to react quickly and catch her as she starts to sway unsteadily.

 

"Scully," he calls to her, watching with horror as her eyes begin to roll back into her head.  He gives her a gentle shake to try to rouse her.  "Stay with me, Scully.  Come on."

 

He pushes her head between her knees to try to keep her from passing out.  A few moments later, he feels her trying to right herself.

 

"I'm okay," she whispers shakily.  "Thanks."

 

"Are you sure?  Scully, what did those tests say that almost made you pass out?"

 

"That our victim, Bridget Hanson, is my daughter."  Her eyes squeeze shut and tears spring freely from them.  "Why are they doing this to me, Mulder?  Why me?  This is just a cruel joke.  Someone set this whole thing up.  Making it seem like what happened out in San Diego with Emily.  But it's all just a scam to hurt me.  I should have seen this coming.  Everything about this case has been identical to the other one.  Except instead of the little girl being mine, they're saying the woman is.  That's just ridiculous.  She's what?  25?  26 years old?  That would have made me 10 when she was born."

 

"You really think that's what's going on here?  Someone's idea of a sick joke?" Mulder asks gently, trying to prevent another outburst.

 

"I don't know what to think," she cries.

 

"Let's start with the facts," he suggests, picking up Bridget Hanson's file.  "According to her records, she was barely 21 years old."

 

"So what, Mulder.  That still would have made me only 15 or 16 when I had her.  I think I would know if I had had a child."

 

Maybe she wasn't thinking about what she said.  Or maybe Mulder had been thinking too much over the past few days.  But it all suddenly makes sense to him.  Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle are fitting together in a way that the picture is blatantly obvious.

 

"Scully, what if . . . " he starts hesitantly, unsure of how to ask the question that's now burning in his mind.  "What if . . . "

 

"What, Mulder?" she asks, sounding suddenly very weary.  Too tired for him to even start this line of questioning, he realizes.  And way too tired to deal with the consequences of opening this particular can of worms at this time.  He decides to wait.

 

"What if we put this away for the rest of tonight and deal with it in the morning?  You look exhausted."

 

"I think that's a good idea," she smiles.  She reaches out to organize the files when he stops her.

 

"I'll put all this stuff away.  You just go on to bed.  I'll lock up when I leave."

 

"It's late, Mulder.  And you must be tired, too.  You're welcome to stay here," she says shyly, blushing at how her offer sounds in light of the shift in their relationship.

 

"Thanks, Scully," he smiles.  "I might take you up on that offer.  And don't worry.  I know this isn't an invitation to jump you."  The look on his face makes her laugh.

 

"Well that's a relief," she says, returning his joke.  "Good night, then."

 

"Hey Scully," he calls to her as she's turning away.  "Being the perfect gentleman tonight will be a whole lot easier if I got a good night kiss."

 

"On the cheek," she says, giving him a coy smile.  "Because after one of your kisses, Mulder, I pretty sure I wouldn't want you to remain a perfect gentleman tonight."

 

He lets out a sound that's a mixture of a laugh and a groan.  He loves it when Scully slings the innuendo back as quickly as he dishes it.  And as much as he was looking forward to that kiss, he realizes she's right.  Once he got her in his arms, he wouldn't want to let go.  And tonight, they're both too tired and too emotional to do anything.

 

"Okay," he relents.  "On the cheek."  He closes his eyes and breathes in her sweet scent as she presses a kiss to his cheek.

 

"Good night," she says again.  This time he lets her go.  As much as he'd love to crawl into the bed and hold her all night long, he knows he can't.  He has work to do if he's going to get to the bottom of what's happening with this case.  He just wishes he weren't so terrified by what he knows he's going to find when he gets there.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 6

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lochlyn McNeil.  No wonder Mrs. Scully was so uncomfortable talking about him.  And no wonder she would just as soon forget he ever existed.  For the first time in his life, Mulder finds himself wishing he had just let the truth stay buried.

 

He shuts down his e-mail and grabs the last paper from the stack he printed out.  The Lone Gunmen were able to easily find the information he asked them about the day before.

 

Mr. McNeil appeared to be the pillar of the community.  He married a young Doris Scully, nearly 15 years his junior, right after she graduated high school.  Over the years, Doris tried to hard to give him children, but they were never lucky enough.  His intense desire for a child turned into an obsession.  He was arrested in the early 80's for expressing that desire inappropriately.  The records don't list the name of the child.  But with a sickening realization, Mulder some how knows the child's identity.

 

He carefully packs away the print outs, hoping to avoid showing them to her for awhile.  But he knows he can't keep this from her forever.  Secrets have a way of coming out.  And her mind seems to be unlocking this one a piece at a time.  But this is something even he can't deal with.  He knows she won't be able to handle it.

 

A sound comes from the bedroom.  He listens closely and can hear her yelling.  Without a second thought, he leaps from his spot on the couch and rushes to her side.

 

"It's okay, Scully," he says calmly, trying to ease her back to consciousness.  "It's me, Mulder."

 

She doesn't budge.  Instead, she appears to go deeper into her subconscious.  He tries calling her with a little more force.  "Scully, wake up."

 

She reacts this time, reaching out a hand to him.  He grabs it and holds it, determined to sit there as long as it takes to wake her.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

The pain is too much.  Too much for her to bear.  She just wants it to be over.  It's been going on for too long as it is. 

 

"Push, Dana," a deep voice commands.  She's too afraid to do anything.  But somehow, her body knows what to do and obeys.

 

"Good girl.  Now rest for a minute."

 

Again she obeys.  This time willingly.  She tries in vain to get her breath back, but finds all she can do is pant.

 

"Almost done, Dana.  You're doing great."

 

She feels her mother wipe a wet cloth across her brow just as another pain takes control.  It's long and intense and feels as if it's ripping her apart.  Relief finally comes after an explosion of pressure. 

 

"It's a girl," her mother says.  "Dana, it's a little girl."

 

She feels a prick in her arm and a heat spread throughout her body.  Her vision starts to blur and she knows she won't be able to keep her eyes open much longer.  With her last grasp on consciousness, her head lolls to the side and she catches sight of a small, wriggling mass in her mother's arm.  A small bundle topped with a reddish patch of hair and flailing a chubby leg marred by a small, distinctive splotch.

 

"Let me see," she whispers.  Her weakened arms reach out, wanting so desperately to hold the tiny squalling mass.

 

"Let me see her," she yells louder.  She reaches her arms out again, this time feeling something grab her back.

 

"Scully, wake up."

 

She sits up with a gasp.  She's back in her room.  And Mulder's sitting on the edge of her bed holding her arms.

 

"It's was the dream again," she says.  "I actually saw the baby this time."

 

"That's why you were yelling when I came in here," he nods, suddenly understanding.

 

"Why is this happening to me?" she whispers, falling into his arms.  He can feel her body trembling and holds her even closer.  "Why am I dreaming now about a little baby girl that could be Bridget Hanson?  The hair.  The birthmark.  I saw it all.  I never saw those details before tonight.  Is it because of the case?"

 

"I don't think so," he says quietly.

 

"What do you mean?  This is all just a coincidence, Mulder," she insists.

 

"Scully," he says, taking her hand in his own, more for his comfort than for her own.

 

"Mulder, you're scaring me," she says, a concerned look in her eyes.  "What is it?"

 

"Scully, I think there's more to this than you're willing to see.  And I think . . . "

 

"Just spit it out," she practically begs him.

 

"There are questions that neither of us can answer.  And I think there's only one person who can.  Scully, we need to go talk to your mother."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 7

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

With a yawn, Margaret Scully sets a coffee pot into the middle of the table.  It's too early in the morning to bother with being a perfect hostess.  If Fox Mulder is going to be rude enough to wake her up in the middle of the night, then he can certainly fix his own coffee.

 

"I'm sorry again for waking you this time of night, Mrs. Scully," Mulder apologizes.  "But this is important."

 

"What's going on?" she asks, her eyes darting between Mulder and her daughter.  "Dana?"

 

"I'm not really sure, Mom," she shrugs.  "Mulder insisted we see you.  He said you'd be the only one with answers."

 

"Answers about what?" she asks.  She tries to remain calm, but Mulder can see a fear flicker in her eyes.  It's a fear she's probably lived with for the past 20 years. Fear that one day, her daughter would remember.

 

"When we investigate cases, I tend to make big leaps that a lot of people don't understand.  I have a way of seeing things that others can't.  It's drives Dana crazy most of the time.  Because most of the time, like 98.9% of the time, I'm right," he laughs.

 

"Whatever, Mulder," she says, rolling her eyes.  "Just get to your point."

 

"Okay.  This all started with that baby dream of yours, Scully.  I actually think that it's more than a dream.  Possibly a repressed memory emerging."

 

"A repressed memory?  Of me having a baby," she scoffs.  It sounds ridiculous to her.  But she can't see the panicked look on her mother's face like Mulder can.  He knows he's on to something.  "Mulder, I thought we discussed already that someone is just messing with my mind.  I don't care what the tests say, they're obviously wrong.  Or faked.  I'll even go so far as to say that Bridget Hanson may have very well been a clone.  But . . . "

 

"Mrs. Scully?" Mulder asks, interrupting Scully's tirade when he notices the panicked look on Mrs. Scully turn into one of terror.  The poor woman looks to be on the verge of collapsing.

 

"Mom, what is it?  Is it heart attack?" Scully asks, going into doctor mode.  She feels her mother's thready pulse and then takes her hand.  "Can you squeeze my hand?"

 

"I'm fine, Dana," she manages to say, although she doesn't sound very convincing.

 

"I'm not so sure, Mom.  Let me take you to the hospital, just to be on the safe side."

 

"Scully, maybe your mom would like some tea.  How does that sound, Mrs. Scully?" he asks her, hoping she'll take the hint and agree.  He needs to speak with her alone before this gets too far.

 

"Tea would be nice, Dana," she smiles.  "But I'm all out of honey.  Would you mind terribly going to that all night grocery store a couple of blocks away?"

 

"I'll stay and keep an eye on your mom, Scully," Mulder offers.  He tries to keep his expression bland as she gives him the once over.  But she's too worried about her mother to give his suspicious motives a second thought.

 

"I'll be right back," she says, grabbing the keys from the table.

 

They wait until they hear the door close before speaking again.

 

"What is this about, Fox?  Why are you digging into all of this now?"

 

"Because I think you're keeping a secret from Dana.  Something so terrible that she blocked it out.  But now, I think she's starting to remember it on her own.  And I need to know what she might be remembering so that I can help her deal with it.  Otherwise it's just going to blind side her."

 

"I didn't think of that," Mrs. Scully says, biting on her lip nervously.

 

"There never was an accident, was there?  You made it and the amnesia up, didn't you?" he asks her.  "Scully thinks she had a case of amnesia following an accident and that's how she explains missing memories from certain times in her life.  But none of that's true."

 

"Fox, we didn't know what else to do," she cries.  Her sobs break his heart and he can't help but pull the older woman into his arms to try and comfort her.  "We didn't ever consider her memories returning."

 

"What memories?"

 

Both their hearts stop at that moment.  They didn't hear the door open over Mrs. Scully's sobs.  They didn't realize Scully was standing there listening to the entire conversation.

 

"I realized I left my wallet on the table," she says quietly.  "I had to come back for it."

 

Instead of sitting back at the table with them, she paces back and forth across the floor, unable to look either of them in the eye.

 

"Would one of you please tell me what's going on here?  Since you both seem to know more than I do?" 

 

Mulder can hear the cool control she's attempting to display.  But underneath he knows that she's a time bomb waiting to go off.  Now is not the time to try and hide anything from her.  But for the life of him, he can't figure out how to answer her questions.  He looks over at Mrs. Scully and can see she's having the same problem.

 

"Okay, I'll start with an easier question," she says, raising her voice a little.  "Why would you lie about me being in a car accident and having amnesia, Mom?"

 

"It was easier than telling you the truth," her mother whispers.

 

"The truth about what?"

 

"Remember how we talked about your Uncle Lochlyn?  And why you seemed to have somehow blocked him out of your memory?"

 

"Fox no," Mrs. Scully yells at the mention of his name.  She was willing to admit she lied about the amnesia.  But never wanted again to think about the things Lochlyn did, let alone talk about them.  "Enough of this."

 

"No, Mom.  I've had enough," Scully yells back.  "What is it you don't want me to know?"

 

Scully and her mother face off and Mulder can see where Scully gets her backbone from.  Neither woman is going to back down.  He has to be the one.

 

"What she doesn't want you to know is that she knows exactly who Bridget Hanson is and why she looked so much like you," Mulder says, looking at Mrs. Scully to finish what he started.

 

"I can't do this, Fox," she cries.

 

"You have to, Mrs. Scully.  Because she's going to eventually remember."

 

"Remember what?" Scully asks.

 

Mulder looks one more time to Mrs. Scully, giving her one more chance to speak.  But she doesn't.  So he looks to Scully instead.

 

"What really happened to you when you were 15."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 8

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder hands Mrs. Scully a glass filled with an amber liquid.  Her shaky hands wrap around it, bringing it to her lips every so often.  After the drink has settled some of the nerves, she begins her story.

 

"It was your birthday, Dana.  Your 15th birthday.  You were so happy.  You said it was the best birthday ever.  You got so much stuff you always wanted.  Including that cross."  She points to the cross hanging around Scully's neck.

 

"I thought this was a Christmas gift," Scully interjects.

 

"No. I only told you that because I was afraid of mentioning anything having to do with your birthday."

 

"Why?" she asks her mother quietly.

 

But Margaret falls quiet for a while.  Her tears are falling steadily down her face now.  Every so often, she'll wipe them away, but more just take their place.  After a few more moments, she takes a deep breath and continues.

 

"It was a big party.  Almost the entire family was there.  Even from your father's side.  Even Lochlyn," she pauses again and takes another drink, as if she's trying to get the taste of saying his name out her mouth.

 

"Lochlyn . . . he . . . well, he had problems.  Weaknesses.  Weaknesses we didn't know about until it was too late.  Until your father caught him . . . with you.  In bed with you.  Ra-raping you."

 

"What?" Scully asks incredulously.  She stands up and starts to pace the floor again.  "No.  No.  No.  It didn't happen.  It couldn't have happened.  Not to me.  No.  I don't believe it."

 

"That's all you kept saying that night," Maggie cries.  "Over and over.  I think eventually you believed what you were saying.  That it didn't happen.  You couldn't deal with it.  Or the after effects.  You were so tiny, Dana.  So small for your age.  He did a lot of . . . damage.  But you healed, eventually.  Physically, anyway.  The road to mental recovery took much longer.  Because there was a much longer lasting effect.  Dana, you became pregnant."

 

"What?" she gasps again, furiously shaking her head.  "No.  I don't believe that.  I don't believe you!"

 

"You had the baby about a week before Thanksgiving," Maggie continues, despite her daughter's refusal to believe her.  "A little girl.  She had a light sprinkling of red fuzz on the top of her head.  And her eyes.  Dana, they were so blue.  I just knew when I looked into them that they would stay that way.  She also had a little mark . . . "

 

"Behind her knee," Scully whispers.  "A tiny, strawberry shaped birthmark."

 

"Yes," Mrs. Scully nods, giving her a small, teary smile.  "Her right knee.  I only held her for a second before they took her away to her adoptive family, the Hansons.  I found out later that they named her Bridget."

 

"I don't understand," Scully says, finally breaking down into tears.  It's a sight that Mulder can't tolerate.  He rushes to her side and scoops her up into his arms, noting how she willing allows him to support her.  "How could I have forgotten that?"

 

"It was a traumatizing event.  You blocked it out.  Your family just filled in the missing blanks with . . . a version of reality you could deal with," he says nicely about their lies.

 

"So that girl, the victim in our case, she really was my daughter?"

 

"Was?" Mrs. Scully asks reluctantly.

 

"She's dead, Mom," Scully says coldly.  "21 years old and she's dead.  I thought it was bad enough having to watch Emily die.  But I never even got to see Bridget alive.  Another daughter.  Gone."

 

Mulder feels Scully go slack in his arms.  Looking down at her, he sees her eyes staring fixed at some point in the distance. 

 

"What happened to her?" Mrs. Scully asks, worry clouding her face.

 

"I'm not sure," Mulder shakes his head.  "But I think we should get her some help."  He lifts Scully into his arms and waits for Mrs. Scully to get the door.  He climbs into the back seat of the car, still cradling his unresponsive partner.  He can tell she's in a dark place, although he didn't want to tell Mrs. Scully that.  He's all too familiar with that dark place.  He can only hope that she'll be able to make her way out of it.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 9

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Scully awakens to familiar sounds.  She's heard them far too much in her lifetime.  The beeps.  The bright lights.  The sanitized smell.  She's in the hospital.  And for some reason, she can't seem to remember how she got there.

 

"Mulder?" she calls, looking over to the left side of her bed.  She sees him asleep in a chair next to her, his head resting on the very edge of the bed.  She reaches up to run her fingers through his hair to wake him and finds that she can't.  She's literally unable to move her arms.

 

"Mulder," she says again, loud enough this time to stir him from his slumber.

 

"Scully, you're awake," he says with a relieved smile.  "You're finally awake."

 

"Why can't I move?" she asks in a panic, struggling against what she now recognizes as restraints.  "What's going on here?"

 

"Calm down," he says gently.  "It's okay.  The doctors just didn't want you hurting yourself when you woke up."

 

"I don't understand," she says with a small voice on the verge of tears.  She looks around the room and sees that it's not an ordinary room.  Taking in her surroundings, her eyes widen when she realizes where she is.  "This is the psych ward.  Why am I in the psych ward, Mulder?"

 

"Scully, what's the last thing you remember?"

 

"What kind of question is that, Mulder?" she huffs.  "And take these restraints off of me."

 

"Okay. But you have to calm down first," he tells her again.  When she settles, he quickly unstraps her arms and her legs, gently rubbing the reddened area around her wrists.  "Better?"

 

"Yeah," she nods.  "Thanks."

 

"No problem," he smiles, pressing a kiss on her wrists before letting go of her hands.  "Now, tell me the last thing you remember."

 

"Cincinnati," she says after a moment.  "We had a case there?"

 

"Something like that.  What about Cincinnati do you remember?  Do you remember us leaving and coming home?"

 

"No," she whispers, looking down into her lap.  "Is that where we are now?"

 

"We've been back almost a week.  You've been here at the hospital for most of that time," he tells her.  "Do you remember our case when we were in Cincinnati?  The woman murdered and left in her bathtub?  Bridget Hanson?  Is any of this ringing a bell?"

 

"I just remember getting a strange phone call and tracing the number to an address in Cincinnati.  I went to your apartment to pick you up and we caught the first flight out.  What happened out there, Mulder?  Did I get injured or something?"

 

"Scully, how about before Cincinnati," he says, ignoring her question.  "Do you remember the dinner we had with your mother?"

 

He sighs a sigh of relief when she nods her head.  At least it's a starting point.

 

"Good.  Do you remember what happened after dinner?"

 

"You mean the kiss?" she blushes.

 

"I actually meant a little bit before that," he smiles.  "But that's a good memory too.  I was talking about when your mother left?  She was pretty upset and you couldn't understand why."

 

"Yeah, it was strange, wasn't it?  She just up and left, right in the middle of dinner.  I wonder what was bothering her?"

 

"She got upset when you mentioned a man named Lochlyn."  He pauses to check her for any reaction, but there is none that he notices.  "He was married to your one of your aunts."

 

"Really?  I don't remember him.  But then again, my father wasn't very close with his family.  We rarely saw them growing up," she adds with a shrug.  "Maybe this Lochlyn is the reason why.  Maybe that's why my mother was upset about him.  Anyway, I think I've answered all your questions.  How about you answer mine.  What am I doing here in the psych ward of the hospital?"

 

He stares at her in disbelief.  Everything is gone from her memory.  She's managed to block it out again.  He lets out a frustrated groan and pushes his chair away from the bed.  He starts pacing the room, trying to come up with a way to explain to her why she's there.

 

"Mulder, you're scaring me.  What is it?  Just start from the beginning."

 

"I can't explain it," he finally says after a long silence.  "I'll go get your doctor.  He'll be able to give you more information."  He quickly turns and leaves the room before she can protest.

 

"Fox, what is it?"  Mrs. Scully runs up to him as soon as he comes out of the room.  "Is it Dana?"

 

"She's awake," he nods, continuing to walk down the hall to find Scully's doctor.  "But she doesn't remember anything."

 

"Nothing?" Mrs. Scully asks in shock.

 

"None of it," he says.  He spots the doctor and calls out to him to get his attention.  "Dr. Sparks."

 

"Agent Mulder.  Mrs. Scully. What can I do for you?"

 

"Fox says that Dana is awake," Mrs. Scully explains. 

 

"And she's pretty curious as to why she's here," Mulder adds.

 

"She doesn't remember what happened prior to her being admitted?" the doctor asks curiously.

 

"She's seems to have blocked out anything related to the real reason why she's here.  She doesn't remember remembering." 

 

"It's not a good sign, but not totally unexpected either," the doctor sighs. 

 

"Since she's forgotten again, does that mean the memories will stay gone?" Mrs. Scully asks optimistically.  "If she can't remember, maybe it's a good thing."

 

"But what about the next time her memories start to emerge?" Mulder counters.  "What if she has another breakdown like she did this time? Doctor, have you considered regression hypnosis as a possible means of helping her extract her memories?"

 

"I won't allow that," Mrs. Scully says adamantly.  "If she doesn't remember on her own, then maybe she isn't supposed to.  Nobody should have to live through what she lived through."

 

"But . . . "

 

"I'm not budging on this, Fox," she says coolly.  "Don't defy me on this.  Don't go to Dana behind my back and try to convince her otherwise.  I don't want to have to ban your from seeing her, but I will if I have to."

 

Mulder feels all the air rushing from his lungs, as if he just got sucker punched in the gut.  Just the thought of not being able to see her . . .

 

"Mrs. Scully," he tries to appeal to the woman.  "You can't keep me from her.  And you can't ask me to lie to her.  Our relationship is built on trust.  I can't keep the truth from her."

 

"Then I can't allow you to see her.  I'm sorry, Fox.  That's just the way it is."  She turns and walks into her daughter's room, the doctor following behind her.  Mulder stands in shock, unable to breath.  But how can he when the very essence of his life is gone?

 

He finally makes his feet move and walks to the elevator, getting inside and pressing a button.  He doesn't even realize where he's going until the elevator stops and the doors open to the pediatrics floor.

 

He walks to the information desk and asks the nurse there for directions.  Although he's the one who made arrangements to have Bridget Hanson's daughter transferred to DC, he hasn't been to see her.  He's spent all his time with Scully.  The official story is that the girl is a potential witness in a federal investigation and needs to be in federal protective custody.  The truth is, he just couldn't imagine Scully's grandchild going off to live with strangers somewhere.

 

He finds the room with no trouble and walks inside, immediately seeing the girl off in the corner playing by herself. 

 

"Hi," he says gently to the little girl.  "My name is Fox.  What's yours?"

 

"Devyn Elizabeth Hanson," she says sweetly, clutching her doll tightly in her arms.

 

"It's nice to meet you, Devyn," he smiles, hoping to put the little girl at ease.

 

"I wanna go home.  When is my mommy coming?" she asks.

 

"Devyn, how old are you?"  He smiles when she holds up all five of her fingers, but only says three.  "You're three years old?"

 

"My birthday is in June and I'll be four," she tells him enthusiastically.

 

"Oh, so you're a big girl, aren't you?  Since you're so big, I think you're old enough to remember what happened to your mommy.  Do you remember what the other police officers said when they came to your house?"

 

"That a bad man hurt my mommy," the little girl says, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.  "That I won't be able to see her anymore because she's in heaven with the angels.  Why did my mommy leave me?"

 

Tears spring instantly into her big, blue eyes.  The sight breaks Mulder's heart.  It takes everything in him not to cry along with her.

 

"Devyn, she didn't want to leave you.  But she knows that you're going to be okay because you're so brave and so strong.  And she knows that there will always be someone to take care of you.  You won't be alone, Sweetheart."

 

"You promise?" she asks, her little lips quivering with unshed tears.  "Will you take care of me?"

 

Her request startles him.  He didn't expect it.  But she stares up at him hopefully with that look on her face so much like Scully's.  And he knows he won't be able to refuse the little girl anything.  Without even thinking, his arms stretch out for the little girl and she eagerly jumps into his embrace, wrapping her small arms around his neck.

 

"Of course, I will, Devyn," he promises.  "I'll be here for as long as you want me to be."

 

Mulder realizes with great surprise that he's never meant anything more in his life.  Right now, he can't help Scully in the way that he's used to helping her.  But he can help this little girl.  He can take care of her and make a life for her.  She's blood of Scully's blood.  Flesh of her flesh.  For that reason alone he loves her already.  And like Scully, he has a feeling that he's going to love her forever.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 10

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Scully stares at herself in the mirror.  It's the same face she's been looking at for the past three months.  But for some reason it seems different.  She knows now that it's because she's different.  She has a different future to face in light of the changes she's discovered about her past.  Changes that she's just recently been able to come to terms with.

 

She stayed in the hospital for almost three weeks before remembering again the abuse she suffered at the hands of her uncle.  Three long and miserable weeks spent without Mulder.  It was only after she remembered the incident, as she's come to refer to it now, that her mother confessed to forbidding Mulder from seeing her.  It was her mother's way of protecting her.  Scully knows that now.  But she can't help but think back to how lost she felt without him.  How his ever constant quest for the truth would have helped her find her way sooner.  But then again, it's possible that she actually needed all of that time to prepare herself.  Because even after she discovered the truth, it took her weeks to acknowledge that it actually happened.  After spending twenty years blocking it out of her memory, she guesses her mind was a bit resistant to thinking otherwise. 

 

But she couldn't ignore it forever.  Her mind wouldn't let her.  Circumstances around her wouldn't let her.  She still doesn't remember *it* happening.  It's like her abduction.  Just another horrible event that remains locked away forever in some portion of her brain.  It's the after effects of that night that live on.  There are just too many reminders.  The child born from that awful experience may be dead and buried, but she left behind a child of her own.  A child who refuses to be buried with the past.  A child who has forged her own future and has quite literally stolen the heart of one Fox Mulder right from under her nose.

 

"You look great," a deep voice says from behind her.  She spins around to face a smiling Mulder staring dreamily at her.  He wraps his arms around her waist and drops a quick kiss on her lips.  "But then again, you always do."

 

"Are you sure I look okay?  I'm kind of nervous."  She turns around in his embrace to face the mirror again, analyzing again the outfit she's wearing.

 

"I told you, you look great.  Trust me," he smiles.  He takes her hand and leads her out of the bedroom and to the kitchen of her mother's house.  He smiles at the little girl sitting at the table, trying desperately not to get cookie crumbs on her best dress.

 

"Dana," her eyes light up when she sees Scully.  "You look beautiful."

 

"See, I told you," Mulder says with a grin.  He lifts Devyn out of her seat and brings her over to Scully, allowing the little girl to press a kiss to her cheek.  All of the tension she's feeling evaporates as she openly accepts Devyn's love.  The child had done more to aid in Scully's recovery than almost anything else.  Mulder, of course, tops that list.

 

The doorbell rings, interrupting their moment and Mulder can see the worry return to Scully's face.

 

"Relax," he whispers into her ear.  "This is just a formality.  They have to do a home visit before they can officially place her with us."

 

"Even if this isn't really our home?" she asks him pointedly.  "My mother will be back from California by the end of the summer.  We're just house sitting, Mulder.  After that, our playing house days will be over.  What's going to happen then?"

 

That has always been the question since the start of the whole thing.  After being released from the hospital, Scully wanted to spend as much time with Devyn as possible.  Since the girl was comfortable with Mulder, Scully didn't want to selfishly separate them.  Neither of their apartments were big enough for all three of them, so her mother suggested they all use her house temporarily.  She's been out in California on an extended visit with Bill and Tara, her own way of dealing with Scully's resurfaced memories.

 

Unfortunately, Scully's recent hospitalization cast an unfavorable light on her in the eyes of social services.  Despite her blood relation, she found herself having no chance at getting custody of her grandchild.  Mulder has been the girl's guardian for the past three months.  Which is how she found herself playing house with them to begin with.

 

The doorbell rings again, startling her back to reality.  She vaguely notices Mulder answer it, allowing the social worker access into the house.  She manages to make it through the entire visit, a fake smile pasted on her face and nods at appropriate times during the conversation.  Before she knows it, the visit is over, and she sees Mulder walking the social worker back to the door, a huge smile on both their faces.

 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks, spinning Devyn around in his arms until she's dizzy and giggling nonstop.

 

"Why was she here, Fox?" the little girl asks.

 

"So that she can go back and tell her bosses what a good time you're having here with us," he explains.  "So that nobody can ever take you away from either of us.  We're a family now, Princess."

 

"Really?  You're going to be my new daddy?  I can stay with you forever and ever?"

 

"Forever and ever," he smiles.  "I promised you I'd take care of you.  I meant that.  I love you, Devyn."

 

"I love you too, Daddy," she smiles excitedly at first Mulder and then turns to Scully.  "Are you going to marry him and be my new mommy?"

 

"I'm working on that, Kid," he says with a wink, causing Scully to laugh despite her shock. 

 

Marriage has been the last thing on her mind these past few months.  But she knows he won't pressure her.  She knows that really he's just letting her know that there can be love and happiness amidst her pain.  That she can't let secrets from the past keep her from realizing her much deserved joy in the present.

 

She knows the ache will never fully go away.  A part of her will always yearn for the daughters she lost.  But she can fill the rest of her heart with love that only this little girl can give her.  It's suddenly very clear to Scully that that's exactly what she wants to do every day for the rest of her life.  Not mourn the loss of those who came before her, but to cherish her as the precious gift she really is.

 

"You know what, Devyn, I think I'd love to be your new mommy," Scully says, bringing a smile of understanding to Mulder's face at the unorthodox answer to his unorthodox proposal.

 

They all hug, sealing all their promises of hope for a future just as bright as their present.  They may not know exactly what that future will bring.  They can only renew their determination not to let the past ruin what they have right now.

 

The end.

 

 

   

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