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... "Water's Edge" by Elizabeth Rowandale (bstrbabs@earthlink.net) Chapter 27b: She sank down onto the grass, flipping out the tail of her blazer as she rested an arm across her raised knees. She squinted into the sun as she caught a quick glimpse of the distant figures beside her car. Mulder and Christopher. Looking like they had always been together. The image made her dizzy. Scully closed her eyes against the brilliant sun, then opened them again to gaze down at Daniel's gravestone. "Hey, Danny Boy," she whispered. She traced her hand over the surface of the grave. "A lot to talk about, huh?" She slipped her tongue over the corner of her mouth, dry in the wind despite her lipstick. "I guess you know Mulder's not with you," she said with a sideways grin. "Seems everybody knew but me." She shifted her weight back onto her hands, sniffed softly in the autumn wind and shook back her hair. The day was so tangible. Kite-flying weather, like Mulder had said. Seemed at odds with the setting. And yet...it felt like that perfect day in the park with Daniel, the day some stranger had snapped their picture and forever captured a moment of happiness in two scarred people's lives. "This is so strange...it's like some days I can't make sense of a timeline, you know? Everything's so jumbled up. My life...it's like it's jumping time. A little bit like when you and I first got back together. And it was as if we had never been apart that whole decade. Yet at the same time we were such different people and so much had changed... And now, Mulder's here again, and you're gone. And everything's a million miles away from where it was when he left... And the part that is most confusing of all and so utterly masochistic and bizarre, is that from the moment I learned Mulder was alive I haven't been able to stop thinking 'I wish you were here so you could meet him'." She laughed through a haze of tears. "That's crazy, right?" Then she added, softly, "But then, you always thought I was crazy. And it never seemed to stop you." She folded her arms across her stomach, the wind seeming suddenly colder. "I miss you so much, Daniel. Christopher is so big...you wouldn't believe how heavy he is. And he's trying to talk. More all the time. He smiles so much now, and he just...he *listens* so closely to everything you say, and I hope- -Daniel, I hope I'm saying everything you would want him to hear. Because, he needs to know...what his father would have said, too. He needs to know the man his father was. I'm trying. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way. You've heard me say that a hundred times, sitting here... But I still can't--I can't...I can't rationalize what happened to you, your life being cut short. I want to hate someone or hunt someone down and make them pay. And there's no one to hate, and even if there were...you still wouldn't be here to hold your son. "You know how I feel. You know what I believe--we talked through all of it so many nights--what I circled through and came to have faith in again when I lost my father, and Melissa. You know... Daniel..." her breath was thin, thready, her chest tight as reality caught her, "Baby, this is right. Mulder. And me. This is where...I need to be now. And I don't want to say this to you, I don't...right now, I just wish I could hold you while I talk. But Mulder's over there with Christopher, and Daniel... I need him. I...*love* him. I belong with him. And I can't...walk away just because it's so soon after losing you. And I don't want you or anyone else to think that I loved you any less. You know how I felt, how I *feel*. You *know*. But it's like the way you and I were, you remember? When we came back together after so long...so quickly... Mulder and I were together for such a long time. In our own strange way, yes, but together nonetheless. And you know that. I think you knew it on a much deeper level than we ever spoke about. I felt that from you. You didn't miss much. And I loved you for never pushing that." She sat in silence for a long time, wind in her hair and sun on her skin. When she closed her eyes, she could almost smell her husband's aftershave and remember the feel of his body beside hers in a movie theatre or the way his hand rested on the gear shift in the Jag and then slipped across to her knee or the way his five o'clock shadow prickled beneath her fingers. She pushed back against the knot in her stomach and the lump in her throat. She opened her eyes to the sunlight. "Always be here," she whispered, drawing her hand over the neatly carved words in the small headstone. Then she spread her fingers wide and held her hand to the grass, imagining the feel of his fingertips meeting hers once more, then clasping her hand in the timeless promise they had long long shared. She pushed to her feet and walked away. ***** "You okay?" he asked, seeing the tear stains catching the light on her cheeks. Scully's tongue traced over the corner of her mouth and she nodded, looking out across the open ground. "Yeah. I'm fine." He nodded. "You ready to go home?" She nodded, distracted. She stepped closer and curled her finger around Christopher's hand. "How's the Little Man?" Mulder smiled. "Oh, we're doing fine. We're buddies." Scully actually grinned. "I think he's trying to say your name," she said with a glance toward Mulder. And Mulder's mouth fell open. He had never even consider the concept. And suddenly a hundred things were more real, and the little human being in his arms was someone who might one day look up to him and shape his view of the world by the words that passed across Mulder's lips or the actions that spoke beyond his words. "Are you serious?" "Yeah. You haven't heard it?" He shook his head, lost for words. "Keep listening," Scully said, so casual about the whole concept, smiling now and then at her son, touching his hair. Mulder remained breathless. Christopher fell asleep in the car on the drive back to Scully's apartment. They parked on the street and Mulder popped his seatbelt, but Scully seemed disinclined to move and more inclined to talk, despite the silence that had been hovering comfortably between them for the drive. "Daniel was a good person," Scully said softly, gaze on her hands in her lap. Mulder swallowed hard and nodded, watching her carefully, seeing the thin ice and letting her lead. "I never doubted it," he said. "Or you wouldn't have married him." "I mean...he could be stubborn and closed-minded--not unlike me, once upon a time...or now--but he was more a victim of his own limitations than a perpetrator. He...he valued honor in himself above almost anything. Which is why...our beginnings were so hard on him. Even if he never let it show for my sake." "You know, I have to be honest, Scully. You floored me the day you first told me about that. I mean, before that day, I would have sworn under oath that you would never have been involved in an affair with a married man." She gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, you and me both. Life sneaks up and bites you in the ass every once in a while." He nodded quietly, hearing the layers of pain and self-derision beneath her words. And maybe he could understand a little bit more about the way Scully had always seen through him. He wasn't the only one who knew a little something about self-loathing and perceptions of failure. She looked up at him for a moment, pinning him with her gaze. "Did you think less of me?" He shook his head without hesitation. "No. I knew you too well already not to know there was more to it." She nodded, seeming to accept that, and dropped her gaze to her lap again. "Daniel... he wasn't perfect. No one is. But being there for his family, never letting down those he loved...those were the things he defined himself by. And his failure to live up to what he had promised his first family--his first wife and his daughter--that scarred him. He gave everything he had these past years toward living up to his own expectations of himself. Toward making amends for what he felt were his past mistakes and building a future for his family, his son. And I wanted that for Christopher's life. I *want* that. I want him to know that about his father, to follow his example." Mulder soaked that in, giving her words the full attention they deserved. His voice was deeply respectful when he said, "I would have liked to have known him." To his blatant surprise, Scully burst out laughing, nearly waking Christopher. His expression said it all. "What!?" "I'm sorry, Mulder, it was just...I was just wondering if the two of you could be in the same room without the universe imploding or something..." She was still laughing softly, and the sound warmed him, despite the peculiarity of the circumstances and the trace of tears in her eyes. "You see, that's one of the problems, Mulder. On some fundamental level, the two of you are far more alike in your way, than either of you would ever be willing to admit." "I doubt that, Scully. I mean, as you well pointed out, I'm not the kind of guy you rejoice about bringing home to meet the family. Come on, Scully, your Mom had to be a hundred times more thrilled to see you contemplating marrying a doctor for an impending quiet life of medical research and youth soccer games. Hell, she might even see you for the full stretch of Christmas Eve every year, have you there for her birthday. Even if Daniel got called away for medical emergencies every now and then, he didn't have to drag you with him and he was back in a few hours without any bullet wounds." Scully was listening respectfully but with a quietly amused smile tempting her lips. "Hell, Scully, even Bill probably loved the guy." This time Scully's sudden laughter roused a squirm and a loud sigh from Christopher and Mulder's eyebrows shot to the roof. "Mulder..." she said through her laughter, "Bill hated Daniel's guts." Mulder was quiet a moment. Then he said, loudly, "Well, thank God." And a moment later they were both lost to hopelessly rich and cleansing laughter. ***** FBI Training Academy Quantico, Virginia Monday morning The feel of a weapon in his hands wasn't foreign. He had pulled his weapon once or twice in the past years. But most of the time he had kept it hidden. Wasn't much call to license a medical researcher to carry a concealed weapon. Particularly a researcher with fake credentials. Not much time in target practice. But his targets were ending up more satisfactorily punctured than he had expected. Apparently, he hadn't lost all his skill with disuse. Might even get himself recertified on the first try. *Bam.* Krycek. *Bam.* Cigarette Smoking Man. *Bam.* Luis Cardinale. *Bam.* James Maley. Oh, yeah. That target card looked good. He might not be on grunt work his whole life, if he could just keep his mouth shut a little while longer (without Scully at his side to temper his words). Wouldn't want to lose his competitive edge in case he wasn't finished running uphill to save the world. As his card came toward him on the wire, he pulled off his earmuffs. He heard a rapid six round cycle fire off in the adjoining booth and leaned forward to look at the card in the next lane. Damn. Whoever he was, obviously he *had* been to target practice in the last two years. He gathered his things and stepped out of his booth. A familiar shock of red hair caught his eye from the lane beside him. "Scully?" She didn't hear him. She was lining up for another round. Six more shots in rapid succession. Then six more with a beat between each. All twelve no more than an inch from the center of the target. All in a tight shot group. Jesus Christ. How much had she been practicing while he had been gone? He waited until her finger was off the trigger and her gun down, before he touched her shoulder. She startled and whirled, pulling off her earmuffs. "Mulder!" Her pulse was racing, he could see it. Her hair was tied up in a French twist, no longer loose and luxurious as he had grown accustomed to it at home. Apparently this was her new "at work" standard. She was breathing hard. "What are you doing here?" He smiled. "Getting recertified on my weapon. The better question would be what are *you* doing here? Don't you have a class, *Dr.* Waterston?" She nodded, not playing into the humor. "I'm only down here on my break." He stepped forward, touched a gentle hand to the side of her waist, cautious in her workplace. He was studying her, probably profiling a little bit. Or maybe just being the man who had worked beside her for almost a decade. "What's wrong?" "What do you mean? I'm just here for target practice, like you." She turned her focus to reloading her weapon. He nodded quietly. "I can see that." He gestured toward her card. "I can also see you don't need much practice. And that apparently you've had a lot of it." She breathed out heavily, eyes still on her weapon, but her posture softening a bit. "Yeah, well...it kind of kept me from thinking too much sometimes after you left. And it kind of...became a habit." He stroked his hand gently down her back. "Under stress," he finished for her. She snapped in her clip; reached for her earmuffs and pulled them back on. She lifted her weapon and he let his hand fall away as she squeezed off four more rounds with glowing success. Then she stopped and lowered her weapon. Eyes still on the target, she swung her earmuffs to her neck and said softly. "I don't want to be in a room with James Maley next week." Mulder breathed for a moment, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Scully didn't pull away. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. "I know," he whispered close to her ear. "But you won't be alone this time." "I know." "I mean...*you* won't be alone. I'll be with you. I'll be right outside. Right here." He pressed his open hand to her stomach. Then he lifted her earmuffs back onto her ears, still tight against her back. He guided her to pick up her weapon, and together they raised it, his arms paralleling hers, hands over hands (*"I'm in the middle!"*) like a long ago baseball bat. They took aim and fired. And the bullet hit dead center. He pulled her earmuff away just enough to whisper against her hair, "And as long as we're together, we'll be okay." Scully closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. They were taking the stairs back to the lobby when her cell phone rang. "Waterston." *Dammit, Scully, would you quit doing that.* "You *what*?" He glanced across at her and she met his gaze, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, as she continued to ascend the stairs. He lifted his eyebrows in question, but she was still listening to the voice on the other end of the line. "What time, is it there yet?" She glanced at her watch, and he did, too, though he had nothing to compare it with. "Okay. Yeah, as soon as my last class ends...okay. I'll call you." She snapped off the phone and turned to face him on the busy landing. "What is it?" "Michaels. There's been another killing in Tennessee. Another decapitation in the woods. And he's sent the body here, asked for me to do the autopsy. If I pull something viable, he thinks Skinner may sign on for another trip to the woods." "Nothing like the joy of another body in the freezer." The dry smile he got could have withered a sunflower. "Hey, I thought you *liked* morgue humor." ***** (End Chapter 27b. Continued in 28...) Come on...you know you wanna...:) -- bstrbabs@earthlink.net