DISCLAIMER JAZZ: "The X-Files" and its characters are the 
creations and property of the fabled Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen 
Productions and Fox Broadcasting. I am, of course, using them 
without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. All 
other concepts or ideas herein are mine.
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Through US season 7
ARCHIVE: ONLY ON THE AUTHOR'S OWN WEBSITE 
(http://rowan_d.tripod.com/elizabethr.html) UNTIL STORY IS 
COMPLETED. This way I can mess with the early parts as later 
parts develop...
TIMELINE: Though this takes place sometime after "all things", in 
this universe "Requiem" did NOT happen...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many readers have been asking about the logistics 
of Scully breastfeeding as an adoptive mother.  This is indeed 
quite possible, though its success varies among women and in all 
cases requires a good deal of patience and effort.  It's rare to 
produce enough milk to provide 100 percent of the baby's 
nutrition, but there are all levels of success in between.  For 
more information, visit www.lalecheleague.org, click on "Search" 
and enter "adoptive breastfeeding".


"Water's Edge"
by
Elizabeth Rowandale <bstrbabs@earthlink.net>
Copyright (c) 2003


Chapter 18b



"I've got to be honest
I think you know
We're covered in lies and that's okay
There's somewhere beyond this I know
But I hope I can find the words to say"
--Vertical Horizon, 'You're a God'



She caught him completely unprepared when she swung about from 
the kitchen counter, hair smooth and falling forward, cheek 
hollow and sleek and so much the Scully he remembered from a 
hundred stakeouts and coach flights and badly navigated car 
rides.  "Mulder.  What are we?"

"'What are we?'  What do you mean?"

"Us.  What are we, Mulder?  I mean, we're standing here in my 
kitchen, on a Sunday afternoon, trying to work out," she gestured 
between them, "*this*.  But what are we?  I mean, in the past we 
were partners, that's what we were.  And when they took that 
away, we were fellow agents who still wanted to work together, 
but now..."

"We're not partners anymore.  But..even in the past, we were 
friends, Scully.  Weren't we?"

"Yeah.  That was it?  We were friends?"

He gazed at her, hard.  "Aren't we still?"

But she was comfortingly quick to respond.  "Always."  She was 
looking for something else.  "So...is that why we're here?"

"I don't understand."

"The reason we're together now, talking.  It's because we're 
friends?"

"Yes, it's because we're friends."

"Mulder, what's my favorite song?"

She lost him again.  He started to speak, wavered.  "Scully, I 
haven't seen you in two years, how would I know what you--"

"What were any of my favorite songs?  Ever?"

He thought for a moment, looked around helplessly.
 
She softened.  "Look, Mulder, I'm not trying to put you on the 
spot, or make you feel bad. I just...I'm just saying...the rules 
are all different now.  And we need to figure out...why we're 
here in my kitchen."

"Do you want me to be here?"

"Yes."

"Then...do we need another reason?"

She fell silent for a long time, met his gaze with her searching 
pale eyes.  Then, at last, "Maybe not."  He could see the 
turbulent thoughts circling behind her pensive expression.  She 
was seeking something she hadn't found.  But he didn't know what 
to give her.  Or maybe he did, and he hadn't found the courage.  
But before he could press the issue either way, she turned to the 
counter and finished assembling the turkey sandwich she had 
offered him.

Mulder downed the sandwich in under two minutes.  He followed 
Scully out onto the balcony, stood beside her at the railing.  
Christopher was still napping.  Scully had placed the baby 
monitor on the patio table.  It was strange.  New.  Scully had 
fought for as long as he had known her against any kind of 
attachment.  Any kind of tie that hampered her independence, her 
sole control over her destiny.  That need in her, almost above 
all else, had driven him to seek the key to her freedom from the 
chip.  Such a sacrifice, surrender of control, was so 
fundamentally against the nature of Scully.  The wrong screamed 
to be corrected.

But this tie, this little boy; this surrender--this one she had 
asked for.  Worked for.  Cherished.

It was new.

Scully was lost in her own thoughts, gazing out over the garden.  
She loved this balcony, this quiet place all her own.  He had 
picked up on that in the short time he had been back.  Scully had 
found some kind of safety here.  Some kind of peace.  He couldn't 
deny the stab that bolted through his gut when he acknowledged 
some of that peace had come to her with Daniel.  She had been 
loved in this place.  She had found a family.

"This is a beautiful garden.  It must be amazing in the spring," 
Mulder said softly, hoping to key into her train of thought.  But 
she turned to him, a million miles away and taking a moment to 
pull back to the immediate.

"Mulder, I need to hear more.  I need...I just can't get past 
this.  I don't understand how this could be so much different, so 
much more promising, more precarious, than any of the other 
underground leads we've followed in the past."

Mulder nodded, eyes narrowed, giving her words all the weight 
they deserved.  He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he had 
only recently regained that privilege.  He didn't want to do 
anything to chance its withdrawal.

"I can only imagine how hard it must be from your perspective, 
Scully.  And believe me, when I first caught wind of this, 
considered the possibilities of an undercover approach, I never 
dreamed it would go this deep.  And certainly never this long.  
But once I got inside.  Once I saw the way these people really 
live...I saw that I had been right.  Nothing less than the 
approach I took would have afforded me the results I've 
attained."

"And that was worth letting me think you were dead for two years?  
Worth...abusing the trust we had built over so many years?"

He winced.  *Jesus, Scully.  You never did believe in padding 
your words, did you?*  "I made a call.  I made that choice.  I 
thought it was worth it.  I thought it was the right thing to do 
for you.  In the bigger picture.  And I was willing to risk 
losing some of what I had with you...to keep you safe."

Scully blanched, a trace of mild disgust washing over her 
countenance.  "Don't make this all about your sacrifice for me.  
You made choices about my life without my consent.  And choices 
that, had I been given a choice, I would not have consented to.  
Nothing you can say will change that."

"I know that you would not have judged the risk worthwhile at the 
time, Scully.  But now that it's over, now that we know that the 
results were more than we could even have hoped for.  Now that we 
know I've made it back alive--"

"Mulder, you don't get it.  You could have brought back the cure 
for AIDS.  But you didn't know that would happen.  It was a one 
in a million shot, and the ends don't automatically justify the 
means.  It's just--"  She broke off, looking out over the view 
again, struggling for a grasp on her thoughts, a way to convey 
them in words.  He had known her long enough to read at least 
this much in her cryptic expression.

She turned and sat back against the railing, folded her arms 
across her chest.  He stood quietly, waiting for her to speak.  
"Mulder," she began softly, the intimacy in her tone raising the 
fine hairs on his arms.  "I loved my husband very deeply.  We 
were friends and lovers.  And in many ways, he shared interests 
in parts of my life that you never did.  And yet, somewhere 
inside me...from the day you left....I've felt, *alone*."  He 
could have sworn there was an underlying tremor to her voice.  He 
knew there was a knot in his own stomach.  But she kept a tight 
rein on her composure.  When did she ever do anything else?  He 
felt the weight of the confidence.  "You broke the rules, 
Mulder," she whispered.  "It was always supposed to be 'Mulder 
and Scully'.  Mulder and Scully against the ASAC, Mulder and 
Scully against the government.  Mulder and Scully against....*the 
aliens*.  You broke the rules..."  She was staring down at the 
concrete floor now, one tan pump tilted back onto the heel.
 
Mulder's voice was deep, letting the depth of his emotion spill 
into his carefully chosen words.  "I was just so terrified of 
losing the 'Scully' in 'Mulder and Scully'.  Permanently."

Scully's eyebrow drew in as she closed her eyes.

"I just can't believe...you couldn't have told me...*something*.  
You couldn't have trusted me."

"Scully, it was never a matter of trust.  It wasn't like that."

She just looked down at her shoes, crossed her ankles.

"You can't imagine the degree of paranoia under which these 
people operate.  How violently protective they are of every shard 
of information.  Even the slightest ripple, the most casual 
inquiry that might have cast a breath of suspicion upon me, would 
have lost us everything.  Scully, these people live in constant 
fear, increasing exponentially with each evidence of danger 
surrounding them.  They can't even trust their own, that's why 
their screening process has become so grueling.  To the point 
that were I to try the same infiltration today, I doubt I would 
be successful.  A year and a half ago, one of their own, a man 
who had, in fact, lost his girlfriend to the fire on Ruskin Dam, 
went on a vigilante rampage, actually torturing and murdering 
abductees.  He killed four women in a matter of months before he 
was stopped."

Scully nodded, glancing away, suddenly restless, pushing off of 
the railing.  With easy dexterity, she unbuttoned the cuff of her 
blouse and pulled up the sleeve.  She held her forearm into the 
light.  "Yeah, I'm familiar with the case," she said bluntly.

Mulder froze.  Even in the muted light the raised white scars 
shone clear on her pale flesh.  W. A. T. C..  He was going to be 
sick.

He must have been white as a sheet, because a flash of remorse 
crossed Scully's face, traces of regret for her callous 
revelation.  She sagged a bit, relented.  She lowered her arm, 
drew a slow breath.  But he couldn't tear his eyes away, even as 
the sleeve dropped down and obscured his view.  The letters were 
burned onto his vision as permanently as they had been carved 
into her arm.

"You were the last victim...," he breathed.

"*Intended* victim, thank you."  She was focusing on her wrist, 
meticulously replacing the buttons.  She swallowed hard.

"Scully..."

She shook her head, still didn't meet his gaze.  "It's fine.  It 
was a long time ago."

"It's fine?"

She closed her eyes.

"Were you...I mean, when it happened, did you have someone?  To 
be there after...  Were you and Daniel...together?"

Her eyebrow arched.  She finished the buttons and one hand rose 
to rest against her hip.  "Yeah.  He was there when it happened, 
actually.  He got hurt worse than I did.  He also helped save our 
lives."

"Oh, my God.  Scully, I didn't..."  He shook his head, feeling 
like the floor was moving underneath him, dizzy in the imposed 
darkness beneath the afternoon sun.  "I didn't know it was your 
case.  I was working my tail off in the research labs during that 
time.  I followed snippets of the case facts in the news.  But I 
never saw your name.  I never thought...since the press never 
mentioned the chips, I just assumed the case was with VCU."

"They kept the chips out of the press.  But someone caught the 
link and passed the case to Skinner, who gave it to me just after 
the third death.  I think Skinner was hoping...that I would 
distinguish myself with the case, turn the right heads."

"Get offered something better than the X-Files."

She didn't answer.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Has that ever been what I wanted?"

He accepted that in silence.  Then, "Did it work?"

"Some opportunities arose.  I chose not to pursue them."

"Scully..."  He waited, and at long last she lifted her gaze to 
meet his.  "How bad?" he asked.

She knew what he was saying, but she played it out.  "How bad 
what?"

Mulder reached out and drew his fingers down the inside of her 
forearm.  "How bad?"

Her left lid half-closed.  "Not my best day."

"Scully, if I had had any idea..."

"Mulder, when was our work ever safe?  You left me alone for two 
years.  You relinquished your position as my partner, my back-up.  
You knew I would be in danger, and you knew you wouldn't be there 
to help.  This is no different."

But it felt like the weight of the world was crushing his chest.  
"No, I guess not," he said.

*Scully.  Do you hate me for not having been there to have your 
back?*


*****


Christopher woke after two hours.  Scully asked Mulder to join 
them on a walk to the local park.  Mulder took charge of Tasha.  
He was gradually growing attached to this gentle companion who 
shadowed Scully's heels.  He thought it to his best advantage to 
be in Tasha's good graces.

Scully lead them to an open patch of grass and settled in the 
late afternoon sun.  Tasha fell easily into place on the grass 
beside Scully as Scully lifted Christopher from the stroller into 
her lap, and Mulder guessed this was a typical routine for the 
three of them.

Scully's family.

Minus the father.  Echoes of his presence in her diamond ring 
glinting in the sun.

Scully was beautiful in the sunlight.  So much of their time 
together had been spent in the darkness.  She was elegant in 
shadows, radiant in sunshine.

He sat on the grass beside Scully.  She had stopped edging away 
from him when their knees or arms brushed incidentally.  Amazing 
the gratitude one could feel for the smallest things.  But Mulder 
and Scully had always been special that way.  From Scully's first 
days in the basement office, he had been allowed to touch her 
just a bit more freely than her distant and professional demeanor 
would have implied.  To touch her back as she moved through a 
doorway, to sit back against the desk too close beside her, 
shoulder pressed tight to shoulder.  Allowed to drop his forehead 
onto her shoulder when he was mocking defeat.

There had been a distinct lack of warmth in Fox Mulder's life 
since one violent night in his twelfth year.  His mother had been 
the only one left to touch.  And she had been too wounded to 
stand the contact with the injury.

And when all was said and done, Fox Mulder--the loony loner in 
the basement who alienated people like the loser in junior high 
who was allergic to deodorant--thrived on physical affection.

Specifically, Scully's affection.

Mulder talked to Christopher, played with him.  Scully encouraged 
them.  The unspoken edict hung in the air.  Scully did not want 
to discuss anything heavy in Christopher's presence.  She didn't 
want her son to pick up on the anger between the adults.  She had 
chosen a quieter, safer life for Christopher.  He couldn't blame 
her for wanting to shelter him from the horrors she had suffered 
in her life.

He was so innocent and beautiful.

The letters in her flesh haunted him.

As the sun lowered in the sky and the wind turned cool, Scully 
gathered their things and returned Christopher to the stroller.

They walked in silence back to the apartment.  Mulder watched 
Scully as she moved through the domestic tasks of her new life.  
She made dinner for the two of them.  She fed Christopher his 
rice and carrots.  She fed Tasha her gourmet dog food.  She 
disappeared to the back of the house to give Christopher his bath 
and ready him for bed.

And Mulder sat on the couch and closed his eyes and tried not to 
picture Scully tied down and screaming as a deranged killer 
carved her skin.


*****


"What did you bring back?"

Her voice was heady and husky in the semi-darkness.  She rarely 
heard that side of her herself these days.

Christopher has fallen asleep for the night.  Scully had wandered 
through her apartment in search of Mulder, finding him on the 
balcony, blending into the grey of the quiet night.

Scully settled into the opposite deck chair, retreating into her 
own shadows, welcoming their protection.  Mulder had clearly 
heard her question.  His grey-green eyes had turned dark, 
mirroring the black of his leather jacket and the heavy seams of 
his jeans.  He propped his arms on his knees, all long arms and 
legs in the low patio chair.  The masculine power in his posture, 
a tiger crouched in wait, keeping watch over its prey, pulled at 
her body like a heat magnet.  She had forgotten the power of that 
pull.  The overwhelming desire that came with Mulder's presence, 
the animal warmth of his body.  She didn't want that distraction 
now.  She had fallen out of practise at keeping it in check.  She 
needed to keep her distance, keep her position of power.  But the 
electricity had magnified with time, ultra-charged the need for 
connection.  Every brush of skin prickled her spine.

She straightened in her chair, uncomfortable with the 
vulnerability in her relaxed posture, her soft clothes.  She 
suddenly wished for her best Donna Karan and heels.  Nothing 
better to keep a man at arm's length than a power suit and a 
deadly stare.  A brazen vixen beneath fiery hair and burgundy 
lipstick.

"I brought a vaccine," Mulder said simply.

Scully waited for more, but nothing came.  She lifted her 
eyebrows questioningly.  "What kind of vaccine?  Against what?  
Against the black oil?"

He shook his head briskly, eyes boring through her.  "It's still 
in the experimental stage.  But they've been perfecting it for 
years.  I was privy to the innermost details of the study over 
the past year or more of human trials.  This vaccine...the end 
purpose is to allow abductees to remove their chips without any 
risk to their health or safety.  Without contracting cancer."

Scully's stomach muscles contracted.  *No.*  She didn't want to 
hear this now.  She didn't want to go back to that time in her 
life.  Didn't want to deal with this now.  She had a family, a 
home, a life.  As if on cue, Tasha wandered out through the 
narrow crack at the sliding doors and settled at Scully's feet.  
Scully tried to draw a deep breath, bring herself to speak.  She 
didn't want to go back.  But she couldn't deny the present, 
couldn't push it to the back burner any longer.  That wasn't the 
woman she wanted to be.

"You're telling me...it works?"

"I'm telling you they're close.  This most recent batch; it 
should work.  From what I know...I think it will."

"You *think* it will."

"Scully, I need you to listen, okay?  The vaccine...it's not the 
simplest process.  It has to be given monthly.  It has to build 
up in your system for at least a year before the chip can be 
removed successfully."

"And people have tried this?"

Mulder nodded.  "Yes, they have."

"Successfully."

His brow drew in.  "Some of them.  Others...the chips had to be 
put back.  But they were carefully monitored.  No one died.  
They're able to preserve the chips for a set amount of time.  I 
won't deny that the ordeal did take a toll on their bodies, of 
course, but they all went back into remission when the chips were 
replaced.  Just like you."

Scully stood up and stepped to the railing.  "I don't know that."

His kind eyes looked at her almost sadly.  "Scully...," his voice 
was like a caress.  "You do know that."

She lifted an eyebrow, but didn't speak.

"This batch, the most recent batch--the trials won't be done for 
another year.  But I didn't come back until I was certain they 
were close, that in all likelihood this *will* be the batch that 
holds.  And I've established connections now, Scully.  Inside 
informants, so that I can continue to track the research from 
here.  So, I'll know the results of this last trial, before..."

"Before what?"

"Before you try anything that could put you at risk."

She scoffed, turned away.  *You're flying solo, Mulder.*

Mulder looked down at the concrete beneath his feet, drew several 
deep breaths.  "Scully.  I returned here now, with the idea 
that...if you started the vaccine injections now, by the time 
your levels were high enough to consider removing the chip, the 
final data would be in on the trial group.  And we would know if 
you were safe."

"I see."  She was focusing on the slick painted wood at the top 
of the railing.  She could feel the draw of his presence behind 
her, the impassioned gaze burning into her back.  This was 
Mulder--at his most fervent, his most focused.  "And you expect 
me to try this?"

"I *hope* you will try this, yes."

She didn't speak.

"Scully?"  The vulnerable hesitation in his voice hurt her.  But 
she had to stand her ground, had to stay distant and rational.  
That was her role, right?  He was the obsessive, passionate, 
loose cannon, and she was the logical, level-headed scientist 
assigned to keep him under tight rein.

"Mulder."  She turned to face him, grateful for the flickering 
moonlight through the remaining autumn leaves.  "You can't 
just...you can't drop something like that on me, and expect me to 
jump right onto the train with you.  There are questions to be 
asked, a million questions."

"Of course, Scully.  I'm an open book.  What questions do you 
want to ask?"

"Well, to start with, what is the composition?  What, exactly, 
are you proposing injecting into my bloodstream?  I want a 
detailed laboratory analysis of--"

"Scully, you can't do that."

"Excuse me?"

"No labs.  Not outside the underground.  No one else can analyze 
this substance.  It's too dangerous, it would send up too many 
red flags, Scully.  None of this can ever travel through 
traditional channels.  Just having it in your bloodstream is 
enough of a security risk.  If you should have any unrelated 
medical problems requiring any in depth blood work, there's 
already that chance of trace amounts of the active ingredients 
appearing--"

"Wait, wait, whoa, whoa whoa..."  She turned to face him solidly 
now, one hand on the railing, the other on her hip, anger 
bolstering her strengths.  "I can't have this analyzed?  And now 
I can't even see my own doctor to check on my vitals while it's 
being administered?  And you still expect me to inject this into 
my body?"

"*I* would be monitoring you.  I know what to watch for.  I've 
been assisting with the--"

"You are not a doctor."

"But you are.  And combining my knowledge of the vaccine with 
your knowledge of medical science...."  Mulder trailed off, 
looking up at her, open and earnest.  His hazel eyes were 
unnervingly dark under the shadow of long suffered pain.  
"Scully...look, maybe you can perform some tests yourself, do the 
analysis covertly and alone, but, honestly... I've spent the last 
two years of my life evaluating both the effectiveness *and* the 
safety of this substance.  I was hoping...I was hoping you would 
be able to trust me.  I was hoping you would believe I would 
never do anything to hurt you."

Scully let go a slow exhale, eyes half closed.  The wind chimes 
in the garden pealed and triggered a vivid flash of a late summer 
night, standing with her back tight against Daniel's chest, music 
playing on a far distant radio, and the two of them luxuriating 
in the sensual warmth of the night and the pure comfort in one 
another's touch.

*'Scully...can I offer you a touchstone?'*

"'Trust you, never to hurt me,'" she repeated.

Understanding draped Mulder like a shadow.  "Scully..."

"Don't."  She swallowed hard.  Closed her eyes.  Then, "Mulder, 
we are toying with my life, here."

"You don't think I know that?  You don't think I've spent every 
day of the past two years focusing on nothing *but* that?"

"And what about my son?  I'm nursing him.  I need to know 
everything about anything that enters my body, before it passes 
on to him."

Mulder nodded, trying to pull her in, to work with her on a 
rational level any way he could.  But she wasn't buying it.  
"Absolutely, Scully, I understand your concern for your son, and 
obviously that's not something I was expecting to face when I 
returned, but the issue did come up during the trials, and some 
testing was done, all showing no risk as far as I know, but I 
will go through my contact, get all the information available on 
the risk factor for infants.  And I won't lie to you, Scully, the 
vaccine does carry some harmless side effects even to adults, 
but--"

She needed to get out.  "No.  I can't--I can't have this 
conversation right now.  We're not ready."

"*We're* not ready?  What are you talking about, what's wrong?"

Scully let go a soft sigh.  "What's wrong is that I look at you, 
and you're Mulder, and I want to trust you, and I want to talk to 
you like I did for seven years of my life, and then you say 
something to me like 'I won't lie to you', and two years ago I 
would have accepted that without blinking, but Mulder...  
Everything's wrong.  It's all...tainted, and I can't..."

"Scully, I went undercover.  I lied to protect my cover, yes.  
I've done that before.  *You've* done that before.  It's part of 
the process, and, yes, it's horrible when it involves someone you 
care about, but--"

She pulled away, felt herself turning cold, recollected icy 
winters past and tattoo parlors and bogus detox procedures.  "You 
know what?  Mulder, if you can't see the difference between those 
undercover assignments in the past, and what you did here...then 
we have nothing more to say."

Scully pushed away from the railing and slipped through the door 
to the dining room, leaving it open for Tasha to follow.

She heard Mulder's exasperated breath, and the shift of leather 
as he pushed up from the patio chair.  His shadow filled the 
doorway behind her.  She kept walking.  "Scully, wait.  Scully--"

She whirled on him, heel digging into the plush carpet, pain 
accelerating her anger.  "My name--" she said coldly, "--is Dana 
Waterston."

And she tried not to register the look on Mulder's face as she 
strode down the hall to her bedroom and closed the door.
 

*****


Mulder was standing in the patch of wild jasmine, the sound of 
the fountain soothing his taut muscles, when Scully stepped up 
beside him.  He sensed her.  The way he used to.  The way they 
always had.  She kept her gaze forward, watching the fountain as 
he did, stopping just half a step behind.

She had wrapped a lap blanket around her shoulders to shelter 
against the chill night wind.

Every angry thought beneath his skin melted when her tears bled 
through into her whisper.  "Please call me 'Scully'."  The raw 
vulnerability burned his skin. 

Mulder breathed out on a sound of deepest regret, gut deep 
frustration.  He reached out a blind arm and scooped her in 
close.  Mulder brought her back tight against his chest, not 
asking her to face him yet.  She let some of her weight fall 
against him.  Mulder closed his arms around her from behind, 
half-pretending to encircle her for warmth.  He leaned his cheek 
against her hair.

"I've never listened to you before.  I hadn't planned on starting 
now, Scully."


*****

(End of Chapter 18b.  Continued in Chapter 19a...)
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