From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Gener/Inlaw(6)/Macspooky/Juliettt
Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:11:11 -0400


Chapter 6  "Mother-In-Law"  All disclaimers still apply.

     The "Snoop Sisters" decided that they weren't getting anywhere
with their "investigation."  They had not been successful in breaking
into the FBI files to obtain information and data on their nearby
neighbors. Hacking into those files was a lot more difficult than
getting into local jurisdictions. They were good and getting better
all the time, but not quite up to that level yet.  Instinctively, both
girls knew that the killer had to have been someone that was close
by. They had narrowed their choices down to one. They had even figured
out that the children had been killed off the island and transported
on the ferry, probably carefully wrapped, in the trunk of the
murderer's car.  This was elementary, but not bad for a pair of 16
year old amateurs, whose parents wouldn't even let them watch HBO, and
who insisted on sending them to a private school where they thought
nothing ever happened.  Jennifer and Amanda Tillot decided that it was
time to play hooky and get to work.  They had never done it before,
but didn't view it as a problem.  They were "experts" at forging
handwriting, or so they thought.  They had spent a lot of time
practicing their mom's, just in case such an emergency arose, so it
was no big deal.  They would simply not show up for class.  No one
would question it because they were the "good" kids, straight A
students, who never got into any trouble.  If they were home, it was
because they were sick. Jenny and Amy agreed that it was good for at
least two days of snooping.  Now if they wanted to break into FBI
files, a good way to do it might be to break into Fox's room and check
out his laptop.  If they could figure out his password, they would be
"in."
     They weren't able to break into his computer, but they did find
the case files which were almost as good.  They also found his hand
written notes regarding the profile of the killer that he was doing,
and though they were incomplete, that was better yet. It indicated
that the suspect was a pedophile, probably addicted to kiddie porn.
It led them right in same direction their 16 year old inexperienced
minds were moving.  They thought they were doing really well.
     They also took a moment to snoop around the room.
     "Look at this, Ame.  Scully wears purple underwear."
     Amy laughed.  "She must look awful in it, worse than Penelope
Smythe in that purple jacket she bought.  Redheads can't wear
purple. Maybe Fox bought it for her.  Mom says he likes brunettes, and
they look good in purple."
       Jenny continued to navigate around.  "I don't see any condoms
or anything.  You think they are trying to have a baby?"
     "How can you have a secret marriage and have a baby?  It would
ruin everything.  She probably takes the pill and keeps them in her
purse or something, dummy."  Amy ribbed her sister good naturedly with
her elbow.
     "Wonder why they have a secret marriage anyway."
     "Probably so mom doesn't freak.  You know, her only son married
to the devil."
     "Yeah, how did we end up with such a dimwit for a mother?"
     "Oh, mom's okay.  She's just not quite all there sometimes."
     "Someone's coming."
     When Dana came up the hallway, two teenaged girls walked by,
pretty girls, the ones she had seen in the restaurant. "They must live
nearby," she thought, then went into the room.  She changed into a
pair of pants and some practical shoes.  It had started to rain.  She
didn't want to go on a raid in the rain in an Armani skirt and heels.
She didn't notice that one of the draws had been left open.  Dana was
concentrating on getting ready and on contacting Fox. They thought
they had solved their case, and she didn't want to go without him.
Although he had appeared uninterested in what they had been doing, and
had refused to discuss the case with her, she felt that he would want
to be along when they went to catch the perp.
     The girls decided to head back in the direction of the criminal.
Maybe, they thought, if they did a little spying, they could get some
evidence that Fox could use to catch him and prove he had murdered all
those children.  Jennie and Amy, after all, didn't need a search
warrant to sneak into someone's house and find something
incriminating.  If they took something to their brother, perhaps he
wouldn't laugh behind their back when they talked about becoming FBI
agents.  They had seen the amusement in his eyes when they had told
him about their plans, although he had admittedly been careful to
encourage them.  They knew it was because they were girls and because
they were small.  And, it wasn't fair.  His very own secret wife was
short, and she wasn't going to grow anymore.  She was too old.  She
was an FBI agent, so why shouldn't they be agents as well? Anyway, the
thought of "cracking" the case and being heroines had a certain
appeal.  They got into their little blue car and drove off.

     Dana located her husband with the cell phone.  He sounded
annoyed, but came back into town and met her for an early lunch at a
pizza place.  He remembered it from when he was a kid.  Sometimes his
parents had brought Samantha and him here for an evening of slumming
it.  Although they certainly hadn't been in the class of Ed Tillot,
finances had never been a problem for the Mulders.  The pizza had
always been good, and he had never seemed to be able to get enough.
Funny, you read about kids being hungry because their parents had no
money to buy food.  He remembered being hungry all the time, and they
had had plenty.  It probably had to do with a quick metabolism, being
big for his age, and being afraid to take more, afraid of his father
and what he might say or do.  If he ever had children....God, at the
rate he was going, it sure wasn't going to happen any time soon.  He
looked at Dana across the table.
 She had been saying
something to him, and he had been a million miles away.  
     "I'm sorry, angel," he said softly.  "Want to run that by me
again?"
     "We have a warrant, Fox," she repeated, worried about her
husband.  "We are going in this afternoon.  I assume you'll want to
come."
     "Oh, no.  That's okay, Dana.  Smithson doesn't want me around.
You take care of it."
      Little alarm bells went of in Dana's head.  Mulder was up to
something, the kind of something that led him to Alaska, or near death
in New Mexico.  He didn't want to talk about it, and he had a
different idea about who the guilty man was.  It was crazy.
     "I still have nothing on the ID of the little girl with the
bracelet, Fox," she said softly, "I'm sorry, Spook."
     He took a bite of his pizza and said nothing.
     "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Mulder," said Dana attempting a
smile at him.
     "Nothing important, Scully," he replied.  He finished his pizza
in silence.  She studied him as she nibbled at her own.  He was so
distant.  Once, if she would have asked him that question, he would
have smiled and said, "They aren't worth a penny, Mrs. Mulder."  Then,
he would have grinned and added, "MD."  When things were right between
them, he always teased her about little things like that, like the
time at the Irish Folk Festival when he had called her Mrs. Mulder as
a joke, and she had told him he had better never forget the MD after
that Mrs.  Lately, things hadn't been right a hell of a lot.  Had it
been only 10 months ago that he had made that stupid proposal, and she
had said yes?  She had been so ecstatically happy that day, at the
moment when she had looked at him and said, "Okay."  God, there had
been a lot of water under the bridge since then.  There had been a lot
of pain, but there had also been so much love between them.  She never
wanted to let go of that love.
      Dana concentrated on eating the pizza, even though she was
suddenly no longer hungry.  She had known he was troubled and had
loved him anyway.  She had been aware of all his eccentricities, and
had married him in spite of them, or maybe because of them.  She
hadn't wanted to change him, but she had hoped that with marriage, he
would learn not to shut her out.  It hadn't worked that way.  He
seemed to be turning to stone around her, and she didn't know what to
do to help him or herself.  She looked at his ringless finger and
believed in her heart that it was all going down the tubes, this time
for real.  This wasn't just a case of a tantrum, or him going
momentarily mad with grief the way he had at Christmas.  He was really
distancing himself from her this time.  At least it seemed that way.
     Fox looked at his wife surrupticiously as she forced herself to
eat.  He should have told her he couldn't meet her.  Her food might
have tasted better.  He was losing her, and he didn't know how to
fight it.  She didn't know it, but he had been watching her work with
the other agents.  She was good, damn good, as he had known she would
be. She had it wrong this time, but he knew Dana.  It wouldn't be long
into the questioning of their suspect before she would realize that he
was innocent and find the right man. She could and would do it without
his help.  Dana Scully was a brilliant professional woman ,who never
should have been sent to work on the Xfiles.  If she had only had a
little more experience, they wouldn't have dared send her, to try to
use her as they had.  She would have known better.  He had, he
thought, ruined her life.  He loved her more than anything, and look
what he had done, was doing to her.  She looked sick and exhausted,
with dark circles under her eyes, and a bruised cheek.  She had lost
weight again, lost weight off a figure that was already too slender
after the agony of her miscarriage, one he still felt he could have
prevented if he had been more careful with her.  God, he couldn't even
tell his own mother the truth about them being married.  He didn't
have the courage.  Once again, he remembered their wedding night, how
beautiful it had been.  How he wanted to recapture those moments of
bliss with his beautiful Dana.
     "Dana," he said quietly. He came to a sudden decision.
     "What, Spook?"  She smiled at him expecting from his tone that he
would say something sweet.
     "When this case is over....when it's finished....I want you to
know, I'll....divorce you, I mean, no problem...I don't...." He got up
and walked away.  What he wanted to say, what he was trying to say
was, "I'll give you a divorce if you want one.  I know I've been a
bastard, and I've hurt you."  What Dana heard was, "I want a divorce."

     The girls hadn't counted on a flat tire and the fact that they
couldn't, even using all their combined strength, get the lug nuts off
to change it.  It was still quite a walk to where they wanted to be,
and they were stuck.  They did a lot of muttering about how unfair
daddy was not to have gotten them a car phone.  It was an extravagance
he had felt that they didn't need.  Ed Tillot was wealthy, but a fool
only where his beloved wife was concerned.  He knew he was very rich
and very lucky, and he didn't want to spoil the girls totally, so he
had gotten them one computer, and one car to share.  Since they were
rarely allowed off the island alone, a car phone was something he
hadn't thought they would need.  Martha's Vineyard was, after all,
about as safe a haven as one could find.  They rarely fought with him,
and if they drove their mother crazy at times, he considered that
quite normal for their age and was pleased that his girls didn't get
into any trouble.  Little did he know!  While other girls were out
risking pregnancy with their boyfriends, his little angels were trying
to hack their way into government files and set up their own Federal
Bureau of Investigation.
     They needed to get to a phone to call their father, or the local
garage, so they hiked to the nearest house. Fortunately, it wasn't far
and school hours were already over so they wouldn't have to explain
not being in school.  Jennie tripped along the way, spraining her
ankle, but was able to hobble along.  The girls thought they were
lucky.  It could have happened outside the murderer's house, and then
where would they be?
     Fox hiked through the woods and took up his post.  He knew that
Smithson, Scully and Bothrington were wasting their time.  He had seen
the files.  The guy was a pedophile, probably kept a basement full of
kiddie porn.  There was nothing wrong with searching the house and
arresting him.  They might be doing the world a favor, but he was not
the murderer.  The murderer was far too clever to be caught with dirty
pictures of children.  He was a very dangerous man.  He didn't see the
two girls go up to the back entrance of the house.
 
     Jenny and Amanda knocked on the door and were grateful to be let
in.  They left their umbrellas out back, the stupid umbrellas that
there mother had gotten them at the beginning of school.  One was
yellow and said Jennifer, and the other orange and was inscribed with
Amanda.  The girls hated those dumb umbrellas, which were cute for a
five year old, but their dad had told them that their mom would be
very hurt if they didn't use them, so the girls had stashed them in
the car for "emergencies."  It was the first time they had ever been
used, and then only because there was no one around to observe.  It
was also the last time they would ever be used.  They were also
grateful when their neighbor went to call their dad and offered them a
nice hot cup of tea.
     "Come into the kitchen, girls," he smiled.  "You can get warm
there while you are waiting for your dad.  The housekeeper is off
today, but I think I can manage some hot tea.  I bet you take lots of
sugar."
     "Well, just a little, Sir, but lots of milk," said Amy. For some
reason, she felt uneasy.
     "Thank you very much, Sir," said Jennie.  "It's really chilly out
there, even though the rain finally stopped."
     "Pretty umbrellas.  I was watching from the window, girls. I bet
Ruth bought those for you."
     "Uh, yes, Sir," they answered in unison exchanging amused
glances.

     The FBI grabbed him when he got back from his walk.  The man was
frantic.  They wouldn't listen to him.  They read him his Miranda
rights.  They tore up his house.  They found his collection.  He
didn't care.
     "Look," he said, "I didn't kill anyone.  You've got to listen.  I
was out walking...please..."
     "Shut up, scum," spat Smithson giving him a kick on the shin.
     "That's enough, Deke," said Bothrington.  He was feeling pretty
sick looking at some of the magazines that were coming up from the
basement.  It looked like they had gotten their man alright.  This
guy's fetish must have been all consuming for years until age and
arthritis set in.  Jeez, what a freak.  He could kill the guy himself.
He had a kid sister.
     "Listen, please, you've got to listen.  You, Mrs.  Ms.  Lady,
with the red hair."
     "What?" she asked turning to look at the guy, wanting to spit in
his face. She had enough to deal with without talking to a monster.
It was her job though.  She forced herself.
     "Where is the other agent?  The tall handsome one.  He knows.
He's been watching."
     "He's not assigned to this case." Dana looked at the man with
contempt.  God only knew what Fox was up to.  He was going to be
disappointed that he wasn't in on this.  Jeez, they were hauling a bag
of baby shoes out of the basement.
     "I wouldn't hurt a child.  Please believe me.  I've never touched
a child.  I know I'm a creep and a pervert.  I like to look, that's
all.  The Tillot girls, please.  I saw...they went into his house.  It
wasn't me.  I wasn't the one.  They might be in danger....please"
     "What about the Tillot girls?" asked Dana suddenly interested.
     "He's been watching them.  They've been snooping around, playing
detective, and he's been watching.  I've been keeping my eyes on
them."
     "I just bet you have," snapped Smithson.
     "Wait a minute, who's been watching them?" asked Bothrington.
When the frightened man told them, Both and Scully looked at each
other and ran for the car.

     Mulder was bored.  Nothing was happening here.  He got up from
his semi damp hideaway and headed back to his car, all his old
injuries aching.  Then, he caught something blue through the trees.
It was his sisters' little car, the one that they shared.  One of the
tires was flat.  It looked as though they had attempted to change it.
He looked.  No car phone, no CB.  He tugged on the lug nuts.  They
were in very tight.  What would two young females have done?  They
would have walked to the nearest neighbor's house.
     "Oh, God," he thought setting off at a run.  "Oh, God, they had
gone to the house, young alone and defenseless."  While he had been
carefully watching the front, they must have been going in the back
entrance.  Somehow, the girls had come back to snoop around the crime
scene in spite of their promise.  They had had hands behind their
back, he remembered suddenly, when they had made that promise.  His
sisters, his blood.  It all began to make sense.  He had gone back to
the room at the Inn for just a moment earlier and had found his
computer on.  He had been sure he had turned it off.  He thought at
the time that Scully had used it, but why should she?  She had her
own.  The girls had tried to get into his files.  Oh, God in heaven,
he had left his incomplete case notes laying around.  If they had seen
those notes, they would have headed to exactly the wrong place, the
place where Dana had gone.  He'd left his cell phone in the car.  At
least he had his gun.
     He crept around the back of the meticulously maintained old
farmhouse.  There, at the back, two umbrellas!  They looked like they
belonged to a pair of five year olds, but they were clearly stamped
Jennifer and Amanda.  They had to have been a gift from Ruth, about 10
years too late, so very like his mother, an expert fund raiser for
charity, but so childlike in many ways.  Fox knocked on the glass
paneled door, which he could see led into a utility room.

     Amy was about to take her first sip of tea.  Jennie had already
had one.  She thought it tasted a little funny, too much sugar
probably.  All adults seemed to take it for granted that kids liked
sugar by the ton even when they didn't.
     "Aren't you going to answer the door?" asked Jennie loath to take
another sip of the strange tasting tea.
     At that point, all hell was on the verge of breaking loose.  The
back door opened rather loudly, and Fox came in.
     "Hi, girls," he said calmly, "I've come to take you home. Hello,
Senator Jensen, how are you today?"
     Pent up frustration and rage burst forth in the man.  His descent
into madness was instantaneous and complete, just as Fox feared it
would be if he was interrupted in his compulsion after it had been
repressed for so many years. He had, however, underestimated the man's
skills.
     "They are mine, mine...You can't have them."  The older man
reached into a draw, and before Mulder could get his gun out of the
holster, Jensen had pulled a weapon fired it two times.  The elderly
Senator was a crackerjack shot.  The girls screamed and ducked under
the table just as two people came barreling in the other
entrance. They saw Dr. Scully get off one shot.  Senator Jensen
dropped his gun and fell, sobbing and bleeding, on the floor.  While
the tall black man kicked the gun away from him, Dana went to their
brother.
     "Fox, oh, Fox.  Oh, God.  I've got to get an ambulance, now."  At
that moment, Smithson came in the house and took in the scene.  He had
brought backup when his partner had taken off with the little redhead
like a madman.  His presence of mind probably saved Fox Mulder's life,
for he had called for paramedics while he was making the short drive
between the Dennehy farm and the house of the impeccably squeaky clean
retired Senator from Vermont, Jensen.

     The ride to the hospital was a nightmare.  Dana was grateful that
she could turn the two girls over to Both and know that they would be
looked after.  Fox would never forgive her if something happened to
those two.  She could understand why.  Even as Fox lay dying, they had
remained composed, tearful, but composed, as they had watched her and
the paramedics work.  The last thing that she had heard them say to
Both was, "Could you please call our dad?  We want to go home now."
They wouldn't go home, of course.  They would be brought to the
hospital to be checked out, and then they would have to answer
questions.  These two had an inner strength that they hadn't inherited
from their mother.  That, Dana saw, even without being able to look
closely.  Vaguely, in her mind, Dana knew it was the same two girls
that had been appearing around town, but she couldn't really process
the data fully.  Her mind was on her husband, her dying husband, the
man who had just hours ago asked her for a divorce.
     "Oh, God, Spook, you may not need one now," she thought.

===========================================================================

From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Gener/Inlaw(7)/Macspooky/Juliettt
Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:11:18 -0400


Chapter 7  "Mother-In-Law"  All disclaimers still apply.

     Dana sat in the waiting room of the municipal hospital waiting,
marking time, as it seemed she had so many times before, for news of
Fox.  How many hours had she spent sitting in the hospital at
Eisenhower Field waiting for Fox to wake up?  How many hours had she
sat in New Mexico in the motel room waiting for him to regain
consciouness, praying that he would be alright?  They hadn't been
married then, not even engaged, just partners, and it had hurt so
much.  Now it was as though the world were ending slowly.  She
couldn't be with him now.  Realisitically, she knew that, but her
doctor's training made her want to act, to be there performing the
surgery.  It was so difficult for her to trust his life to anyone
else's hands, so very hard. Dana knew many doctors were not
comptetent.  When they had come in, she had dropped names.  This was
Ed Tillot's stepson, Ruth Mulder's son.  It would, she hoped, get him
the best medical care there was.  She didn't like herself much for
doing it, but it was for Fox.  Dana felt a sudden pain and got up and
went to the ladies room.  When she came out again, her tears were
barely contained.  Her period had started.  There would be no baby, no
little girl or boy to hold.  Fox would die, and she would have
nothing, or Fox would live, and she would still have nothing.  Maybe,
she thought, if she promised him that she wouldn't ask for any child
support, she could ask him to love her again, just to make her
pregnant, just to give her something that belonged to them both. It
was irrationsl, she realized, but she didn't care.  She just wanted
his baby, wanted it so much there was an aching void inside of her.
She couldn't concentrate very well.  Dana could hardly believe he had
stopped loving her. She didn't believe it.  She didn't believe he no
longer cared. Why, oh why would he want a divorce?  Hadn't she been
understanding enough?  She had tried, really tried her best. Had it
been the silly bird?  Her jealousy?  Had she become a sexual bore?
Oh, God, what had she done wrong this time?  Why did all her
relationships with men fall apart?  Her mind ran through the list of
losers she had dated.  Finally, with Fox, she had found something
wonderful.  He was not easy, but he was incredible in so many ways.
How could it be going so wrong?  A wave of grief washed over her,
grief for her empty womb.

     Police Chief Johnson came in, along with Both and Smithson.
     "Any news on Mulder yet?" asked Smithson.  Dana was surprised at
his concern.
     "Not yet," she replied quietly.  The three men sat down heavily.
A law enforcement officer down was a law enforcement officer down.
     "I want to thank you for coming after us, Smithson," said Scully.
     "The truth is, Agent Scully, I wasn't surprised at what Dennehy
had to say.  His prior record made me suspicious of something, but I
don't much like politicians, and Jensen's record was a little too
clean to be believable.  He was my next choice.  I'm just glad Mulder
got there on time to save those girls.  I'm not much of a father, but
I wouldn't want my girls..." Smithson stopped before he said too much.
" I don't know how he knew."
     "Fox, he just knows things sometimes.  There's a song...Fox, he
paints with all the colors of the wind.  I can't explain it any
better."  Dana stared out the window for a moment.  "Skinner, I forgot
to call Skinner.  Will you stay here a minute, in case the doctor
comes, please?"
     "Of course, Dana," said Both quietly.  Maybe old Deke wasn't half
bad.  He had scoffed at Mulder's theories in the beginning, but he had
apparently looked into them after all.  He told Deke that he respected
him for that.
     "I don't like the new Bureau," replied Smithson quietly.  "I like
things the old way, but an agent is an agent.  Makes them kind of a
partner.  If we don't watch each other's backs, no one else is going
to do it.  Remember that, Both.  No one else will do it."
     Both was well aware of that.  He was also feeling a bit safer at
the moment, safer than he ever had with Smithson as a partner before.
He doubted he would ever actualy like Deke, but he was impressed by
the man's belief that law enforcement people needed to watch out for
each other.

     Dana explained to Skinner as best she could what had gone on and
that she was waiting for word on Mulder.
     "I'm sorry if I don't sound very coherent, Sir.  It...it will all
be made clear in my report.  I..it doesn't look good for him, Sir.
I...I'll get back to you as soon as I hear more."
     "Okay, Scully," said Skinner in his professional mode. He knew
Dana better than to fuss over her.  She didn't need it, and she didn't
like it.  She would view it as a put down.  It seemed that Mulder's
incredible insight, as well as his ability to put himself in a serial
killer's head, had once again caught a murderer and once again gotten
him into trouble, very serious trouble.  "It sounds as though you all
did some excellent work up there."
     "Mulder especially, but the two agents, Smithson and Bothrington,
excellent, Sir.  I...I have to go now, in case the doctor comes."
     Skinner sighed as he hung up the phone.  He sighed and reached
for the receiver again.  He picked it up and put it down.  He would
give it a little while.  Maybe someone would call him with good news.
Maybe he wouldn't have to tell Meg that her daughter was a widow and
that the young man she had come to love as a son was gone.

     Smithson got her coffee and a sandwich and threatened her with
death if she didn't eat.  Perhaps he didn't approve of female agents,
but this one had spunk.  She wasn't tearful and falling apart.  She
had held her own with the guys, had in fact, from what Both had told
him, gotten off an incredible shot, wounding Jensen without killing
him.  He would like to have seen Jensen die, but on the other hand,
maybe years in prison, years getting gang banged by the other
prisoners who might get a kick out having the old politician, might be
a more fitting punishment.  Both patted her shoulder.
     "Hey, Irish," he smiled at her, "that stud of yours will be up
dancing with you in no time.  You'll see.  Old Dwayne has spoken."
     "Bothrington is right," said Johnson, "Mulder's tough stuff.  I
know.  I knew him when he was a kid.  He takes a licking and keeps on
kicking."  He knew immediately that he might have said too much.
     "Yeah, well, I guess he always had to," said Dana numbly.
     "So," thought Johnson, "Scully was aware of the abuse."  She was
good for him, this little woman.  He hoped they could work out the
problems that he sensed they had been having.
     A doctor came out.  "Dr. Scully?"
     "Yes?" she asked getting to her feet quickly.  "My husband?"
     "He has survived the surgery, Dr. Scully.  We've replaced the
blood he lost, and we are giving him intravenous antibiotics to
prevent infection.  He hasn't regained consciouness yet, but if you'd
like to sit with him, it's alright.  You are a medical doctor."
     "Yes, oh, yes, thank you."  Dana got to her feet.  "Thanks, guys.
I'll call you as soon as I know anything more, and I'll be in to make
my statement as soon as I can."
     "Not to worry, Scully," said Smithson.  "No one is going anywhere
in a hurry."

     "Just what the hell did you girls think you were doing?"
demanded Edward Tillott.  He had had to go to the hospital to
authorize an examination for them.  When he arrived, he had been
greeted by Police Chief Johnson and two FBI agents, who had informed
him that Senator Jensen, a man he had known and liked for years, had
tried to harm his daughters and had shot his step son, who was now
near death in the same hospital.  Ed had been heartsick.  The first
thing he had done was authorize the exam for his girls.  He had then
moved heaven and earth to make certain that Fox got the best doctor's
there were.
     "We just wanted to prove to Fox that we could be FBI agents if
wewanted," said Jennie tearfully.  Her ankle was throbbing, and the
adrenaline was wearing off.
     "We were going to spy on Mr. Dennehy," continued Amanda.  "We
never liked him, and we thought he killed those kids.  We got a flat
tire, and we went to Mr.  Jensen's house.  He gave us tea."
     "Which we are having analyzed," explained Johnson.
     "It tasted funny," said Jennie.
     "Next thing we knew, Fox came in, and Mr. Jensen pulled a gun and
shot him Then his partner came in and shot Jensen."
     "Oh, God, I can't believe it.  I just can't believe it.  You
girls are grounded until you are 90," he said.  "I'm never letting you
out of my sight again.  How will we tell you mother?"  Then he broke
down and pulled his daughters to him, holding them close.  He was
angry with them, but he was just glad to have them alive.  They both
started to cry as well.
     "Daddy, can we see Fox?" asked Amy through her tears.  "I think
he might die, and it will be our fault."
     "Amy," said Chief Johnson, himself the father of a daughter,
"He's in surgery now.  Why don't you go home with your dad.  We'll
notify you when we hear something, and you can come back and visit him
then.  Tomorrow, you can come to the police station and give a
statement.  Okay?"
     "Okay, Mr. Johnson," said Jennie softly, answering for them both.
     "Your brother is a hero, girls," said the police chief as they
left.  "And you two are very lucky young ladies."

     Dana sat at his bedside for a long time.  He wasn't on a
respirator, although they did have him on oxygen, with a catheter in
his bladder, an IV line hooked to his arm and a naso gastric tube for
feeding later.  His vitals were steady but weak.  Dana knew that it
could go either way.  One bullet had passed through his rib cage on
the right side and had lodged near his spine, although not close
enough to cause a spinal cord injury, thank God. The other had entered
his right thigh.  When he had fallen, he had broken the ulna and
radius of his right arm and had hit his head, hard.  There were
stiches in his scalp, along with the cast on his arm and the sutures
from the two bullet wounds.  He was going to need a lot of care.  Dana
rememberd when she had been in the coma, how she had been able to hear
voices, sometimes even to understand what they said.
     "Oh, Fox," said Dana softly, "Don't die on me.  Please don't die.
Come back to me, sweetheart.  I love you.  I love you so much."  She
stroked his head gently.  "If you die, I won't have anything, anything
but a big bank balance and memories.  Oh, Fox, I won't have a husband,
I won't have a baby...nothing...please come back.  We'll work it out.
Please.."  She heard her voice crack.  That wouldn't help.  She forced
herself to be calm and called Skinner once more to let him know that
Fox had come out of surgery but wasn't quite out of danger yet.  Then
she called her mother to spare Skinner the agony.  When she hung up
the phone, she spoke softly to her husband again for a little
while. She told him how Skinner had praised his work, and how her mom
sent her love to him and would pray for him.  Dana removed the gold
cross from his neck and ever so gently placed it around his.
     "Maybe this will help, baby," she said softly.  "It's my cross.
The one mom gave me.  Hold on, Spook. Keep on fighting.  Please."  She
stroked his hair silently for awhile.  "Maybe I should have been more
understanding about your mom, Fox," she whispered softly.  "If I hurt
you, I'm sorry.  Oh, Fox, just come back to me, and we'll work
everything out.  Just come back."
      She didn't intend to fall asleep, but she nodded off with her
head pressed against the bed.
     Dana awoke with a start after a few minutes.  She checked her
husband's vitals again and made a quick trip to the bathroom.  She
drank some of the water that the nurse had left, and sat down beside
her husband again.  Putting her hand on his arm, she spoke to him
softly.
     "I'm here, Fox.  I'm here, Wolfenstein.  It's okay.  It's going
to be alright."  Quietly, she began to sing softly in the ancient
language her Gran had taught her, a soft lullaby.
     Mulder was aware of her presence.  He had heard her soft loving
words.  He was in a twilight state, somewhere between wakefulness and
sleep.  "Dana," he thought, "don't go away, Dana.  If you go, I'll
die."  He drifted in and out of semi consciousness.
     Dana heard a fuss in the hall outside the room, not unusual for
hospitals, but then the voices got louder.
     "I want to see my son, and I'm not going in there with that
woman.  With all the money we raise for this hospital....
     "Ruth, please calm down," said Ed quietly.  It was rare for Ruth
to be this angry or assertive.  If Dr. Scully were in there, she could
hear.  He hoped Ruth wasn't on the brink of another breakdown.
     "Oh, mom, that's not fair," burst out Amy.  "That woman is his
wife."
     "Shut up, Amy," admonished Jen.
     "No, I won't.  That's his wife, and he loves her. I'm sure he
does.  I don't understand how you can hate a woman you never even met.
It's stupid.  Maybe she's really nice."
     "His wife.  Why would my son marry a whore like that?  I don't
believe it.  I just can't believe it. Why wasn't I told?"  Ruth Mulder
turned around and ran away moving quickly down the corridor.
     "Come on girls," said Ed quietly, "I think we have some more
talking to do, after we get your mother calmed down.  No arguments.
Come along, now."
     "Oh, God," thought Dana wondering how much more she could take.
It gave her no satisfaction knowing that she had been right, and that
it had been unfair not to tell Ruth Mulder the truth from the
beginning.  Suddenly, Mulder opened his eyes.
     "Mom," he whispered softly, "Mom."
     Dana felt her heart break.  She knew it wasn't logical, and she
was grateful that he had spoken at all, but it hurt terribly that he
had asked for his mother and not for her.  She rang for the nurse to
tell her that he awakened.
     "It's okay, sweetheart," said Dana softly. "Your mom was here,
but she had to go look after the girls.  They are fine too.
Everything is okay, Wolfenstein. The bad guy's in jail. I'm here, and
your mom will come back later.  It's okay, Fox.  It's okay."
     The nurse came.  She suggested that Dana might want to go home
and get some sleep, but she declined.  She couldn't leave him, not
now. He appeared to have slipped back into his comatose state once
again.  She would be leaving him soon enough, God knew, if he got what
he wanted.  Right now, though, she was still his wife.  She couldn't
leave her Wolf.  When the nurse was finished, she sat at his bedside
once more, wondering if she would ever be happy again, remembering
what it felt like lie next to him, the way he smelled as she rubbed
her face against his bare chest, the way his mouth tasted when they
kissed, the way her skin tingled when he touched her.  No matter what,
she wouldn't have traded any of it, she decided.  Her single regret
was her empty womb.
      Dana looked up, and there was a man standing in the door.  He
was not tall, slightly overweight, balding, but with a nice face.  In
a way, he reminded her of her dad.  He wasn't a handsome man, but
there was something open and honest about him.
     "Dr. Scully?"
     "Yes?"
     "I'm Ed Tillot."  He came in the room almost reluctantly, aware
of the wary look that crossed the young woman's face.  It was the
first time he had seen Dana Scully up close.  She was a beautiful
woman, even with the sadness and exhaustion etched into her face and
the dark circles under her eyes. "Marriage to the Mulder men was not
good for a woman," he thought.  Looking at her, it was difficult to
picture her packing a heavy pistol and putting a bullet through his
longtime neighbor and friend.  He still couldn't quite believe it.
Jensen a murderer, a child killer living so close to his little girls
all this time.  He shuddered internally.  He was grateful to the small
redhead who had probably saved their lives after Fox was wounded.
     "I thought you might be able to use a thermos of coffee and some
sandwiches."  He set a bag down.  "I had the cook prepare something.
I hope you like it."
     "Thank you.  That was very considerate."  Dana kept her tone
carefully neutral.
     "We need to talk, Dr. Scully."  He sat down.  He looked at his
stepson, and Dana noticed a look of sadness cross his face.  The man
turned his attention back to Dana.
     "I know you must have heard what went on the hall.  I know it
must have hurt.  I'm sorry.  I want you to know, it was my fault, not
Fox's.  My wife...she..."
     "I know, Mr. Tillot.  She's fragile and has her own reality."
She knew she sounded bitter.
     "Yes."  Ed hesitated.  "God only knows, I never wanted Fox to get
hurt again.  He tried to warn me that it wasn't a good idea to keep
the truth from her, and I tried to tell her, but she'd been so
depressed since Samantha...since that woman who claimed to be
Samantha...."
     Dana reached over and took Fox's hand while he slept.  While she
sat in the room with this man, she needed to feel her husband's skin
against hers.
     "Fox deserved better than Bill Mulder for a father.  God,
Dr. Scully, my first wife and I would have done anything for a son
like him.  He was so bright, and such a nice kid.  Bill was such a
cold man." Ed Tillot sighed.  This was a difficult conversation. " He
was bad for Ruth, and he was worse for Fox."  Once again, Ed Tillot
looked at the comatose man lying in the bed.  "Bill used to hit that
boy.  He never quite crossed the line into real child abuse,
prosecutable abuse until...until after Samantha though.  Our house
ajoined the Mulder place, and I was out walking.  My wife had died two
years earlier, and I walked a lot, thinking about her.  I heard an
awful noise coming from the garden shed.  It was Bill in a drunken
rage.  He was beating the boy with a two by four.  One arm was already
broken, and Bill was raving that if the police and the doctors
couldn't make his son remember what had happened to Sam, he sure as
hell would.  I was able to stop him before he cracked Fox's skull.
Dr. Scully, I'll never forget that day."  Ed paused for a long moment
dealing with the memory.  He was a peaceful man by nature, and he had
always been fond of Fox.  It wasn't easy to relive it.  " When the
police came, Fox just kept begging them not to take his daddy to jail.
He just kept pleading over and over that he knew it was his fault that
Samantha was gone, and that it was okay that his daddy hit him."
     "My poor Fox," said Dana softly.  "I knew his dad was abusive,
but..."
     "Anyway, Fox was sent to live with an aunt.  She was a good woman
with no preconceived notions of what little boys were supposed to be
like.  It was the best thing for him.  Ruth had a complete breakdown.
All those years Bill had been telling her that the way he disciplined
Fox was necessary for little boys, and she believed it.  She didn't
really know any better."
     "Excuse me, Mr. Tillot, but how could she not know?" asked Dana,
skeptical.  It was something of an effort to be polite, but this man
was trying to reach out to her.
     "Ruth was a quiet, sensitive little girl raised by a harridan of
a mother.  Her father abandoned them when she was just a baby.  I
think she fell in love with Bill because he was such a take charge
individual.  He fell in love with her because she was beautiful and
sweet and could be dominated easily.  His parents wanted him to marry
a cousin, to keep the money in the family.  They circumvented that by
conceiving Fox in the back seat of a car one night.  As for me, well,
I'd been in love with Ruth since the 10th grade.  I always was a fool
for her, although I loved my first wife very much, Dr. Scully.  Ruth
and I have been happy, and I've been able to afford enough help that
she needn't be overly stressed by child rearing.  She does a lot of
good.  She's a wonderful fund raiser, my Ruth.  There's something
about her that makes people want to give.  I can't tell you how many
needy children have received medical care due to her efforts."
     Dana nodded.  "Thank you for coming, Mr. Tillot.  Thank you for
the sandwiches.  I'm glad....I'm glad the girls are safe.  I...I
wouldn't want anything to happen to Fox's sisters.  I..."  She turned
away.  She couldn't talk anymore and couldn't deal with anymore.  She
was just too tired and too heart sick. She couldn't be impressed by
her mother-in-law's kindnesses either, not now, not with Fox laying
here like this, not knowing that the woman had never once called when
he had been in Alaska.  "Tell your wife that Fox woke up before and
asked for her." She managed reaching into her purse for some kleenex.
She couldn't be cruel either.  It simply wasn't in her nature.
     Ed knew that he had been dismissed.  He couldn't say he blamed
the woman.  No matter what Dr. Scully's past might or might not be, he
didn't think she was the evil creature of his wife's sometimes
tortured mind.

===========================================================================

From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Gener/Inlaw(8)/Macspooky/Juliettt
Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:02 -0400


Chapter 8  "Mother-In-Law"  All disclaimers still apply.

     In the early hours of the morning, Dana finally had to leave.
     "I have to go, Spook," she said softly, "for just a little while.
I have to clean up and give my statement, and if I don't take a
shower, no one will come near me.  I'll be back, sweetheart.  You keep
resting, and I'll be back.  Maybe by then you'll be awake again.  I
love you."  She smoothed away his hair and gently kissed his forehead.
"Remember, I love you more than anything.  If you get better, I
promise I'll even try to love that stupid parrot."  One more kiss, and
she left him.

     Dana showered and started to change, but passed out on the bed.
It was past 8:30 when she woke up again.  She dressed quickly and
headed down to the police station.  Johnson was there along with
Dwayne and Deke.  Dana called Skinner and told her that Fox seemed to
be holding his own.  She asked him to call her mom and let her know.
     "No problem, Scully.  I want you to remember, we are there for
you.  You don't have to handle everything alone."
     "I know, and thank you, Sir."  Dana hung up the phone. A part of
her wished for her mother's presence, but in truth, she really didn't
want to talk to her about what a nightmare her life had become.  How
could she possibly explain it?  Dana pulled herself together one more
time.  She then gave her statement.  Dwayne and Deke were astounded at
how coherent and businesslike she managed to be considering the stress
she was under.  The report was clear, concise and to the point about
how they had discovered Dennehy's very old conviction on child porno
charges and arranged to raid his old farmhouse, listened to what he
had said, and gone after Mulder at Jensen's place.
     "In the beginning," said Smithson when she had finished, "I
thought Mulder was a nutcase.  I mean, I thought he was trying to set
me up when he came to me with this crazy theory about the
Senator. Call it paranoia, but he does have a certain reputation, Dr.
Scully.  Then I began to dig a little deeper.  I was actually waiting
on a report from the State of Vermont when we dug up Dennehy's old
conviction. That seemed to prove Mulder actually was crazy, but his
theory stayed in the back of my mind.  It seems that Jensen and his
wife had one child, born in 1948.  She died suddenly when she was 8
years old.  No cause of death was ever established. An autopsy showed
nothing.  It was listed as heart failure.  Other than that, the
Senator's record was clean, too clean for a public figure in my
estimation.  I'd be willing to bet that he killed her, that she was
the first victim.  We found the ashes in an urn on the mantel, but
there isn't much to work with.  We also found a small silver box
containing baby teeth, apparently his daughter's baby, stored in a
small silver box next to the jar of teeth from the bodies in the
graves."
     "What a monster," sighed Dana.  "God, he must have ripped the
teeth out of the skull."  She shuddered.  How that must have haunted
Fox, and he had kept it all inside, never discussing it with her,
never confiding.  It angered her, but it also made her hurt for her
husband.
     "The odd part of it is," said Bothrington, "that Dennehy claims
he has never touched a child, and I believe him.  He's a voyeur.  He
likes pictures, but he claims to know that he's not normal, and has a
moral imperative against actually touching a kid.  He's a devout
Catholic and goes to mass every morning.  He says he never liked
Jensen, and has been suspicious of the guy from the moment the bodies
were uncovered. He didn't dare say anything though.  No one would have
believed him.  Jensen has always been Mr. Nice Guy, the perennial good
neighbor, and of course, he had power and money. Go figure.  A
pedophile with a heart and conscience!"
     "Where did he get the baby shoes?" asked Dana.
     "Stole them.  He would see a baby in a carriage and lift the
shoes.  Weird, yeah, but I guess it could have been a hell of a lot
worse.  He'll probably get probation for his help in catching Jensen,
go back to his farm house and never bother anyone again."  Deke
shrugged.
     "We gave him a good strong lecture on how taking those dirty
pictures hurts kids.  You know, he doesn't seem to have thought about
it. He may have inherited some family money, but I don't think he
inherited very many brains. I mean, he isn't very intelligent in some
ways.  When we told him, he cried. Thought I'd heard it all."
Bothrington looked at Dana.  "By the way, this came for you a little
while ago."
     "Thank you."  Dana tore the envelope open with hands that were a
little shaky.
     "Thank God," she whispered.
     "Not his sister?"
     "No.  I don't think he could have handled that right now.  I have
to get back to the hospital.  I'll...I'll get to work with dental
charts as soon as ...well, I know something definite about Fox..."
     "No rush now, Dr. S.." smiled Both, "You go look after that man
of yours."
     "Thanks, guys.  Thanks a lot."

     Dana stopped for some breakfast, knowing that if she didn't get
some solid food into her she was going to drop.  She hated to take the
time, but she had learned the hard way, that when you were needed, you
couldn't let yourself fall apart.  You had to take care of yourself at
least a little, or you would end up on the floor and of help to no
one.  She ate quickly and returned to the hospital.  The moment she
arrived, Dana knew the nightmare wasn't over, the inevitable was about
to happen.  As she stood in the door to his room, she saw a lovely
gray haired woman sitting there quietly talking to her husband, who
was still not conscious.  Her clothes were impeccable.  Not a hair was
out of place.  She was a far cry from Dana, who had just about managed
to comb her hair, brush her teeth and put on some jeans and a blouse
in the morning.  When the woman looked at her, she knew it could be no
one other than Fox's mother.  They had the same beautiful eyes.
     "Mrs. Tillot..." acknowledged Dana with a nod.  Warily, she
stepped into the room.  She looked at Fox's vital signs on the
monitor. They were stronger, but he appeared to have become comatose
again after that brief period of wakefulness.
     "You are that Irish woman, his partner."  Ruth glared at her
thinking about Samantha.
     "I'm his wife, Mrs. Tillot," said Dana softly.  "My name is
Dana."  For Fox's sake, she thought, she would try to be civil to this
woman.
     "I had my daughter back.  I had my beautiful sweet Samantha back.
What did you do?  What did you do to my son that he would give away
his sister for you?"  asked the woman with venom in her voice.  "Did
you seduce him?  Did you lie and tell him you were pregnant?"
     "It wasn't Samantha, Mrs. Tillot.  There's a good chance that
Samantha may still be alive."
     "I don't believe you.  Why should I?  My son never would have
traded his sister away, never, unless you'd done something to him.  I
won't accept it.  I won't accept the fact that my son married a
conniving whore..."
     "That's enough," exploded Dana.  "I'm not a whore.  I'm not.
Your son proposed to me because he loved me.  That woman was not your
daughter, and Fox will, my husband will... tell you himself, if he
lives."
     "Liar."
     "I'm sorry you lost a daughter, Mrs Tillot."  Dana was really
angry now. She was trying not to raise her voice.  She glanced at her
husband and was glad he was asleep. She prayed he couldn't hear
this. She knew sometimes people in comas heard everything.  "But you
aren't the only one who has lost a child.  My mother lost a child, my
little brother.  He was two.  I was nine.  Mom was eight months
pregnant and asked me to watch him while she went into the house for a
minute.  He got away from me.  He ran toward the street.  A car jumped
the curb and killed him.  He got away from me, and he died.  My baby
brother died.  The difference is that we had no money for
psychiatrists and nervous breakdowns.  We could barely pay for the
funeral, and mom got to come home and do laundry and watch her other
four kids.  Then, two weeks later, she had another baby to care for.
That meant five living kids to look after.  They never even had a
chance to grieve."
     "Well, at least they knew," Ruth retorted though she was somewhat
shaken by the younger woman's words.  "At least they knew, and it made
sense."
     "Brendan was killed by a f-----g drunk driver," hissed Dana using
the word she never used.  "That makes about as much sense as aliens
from outerspace or Senators killing little girls.  And you know what
else, Mrs. Tillot.  My mom and my dad, they were there for me the
whole time.  It was my fault, mine.  I was supposed to watch him.  I
tried to save him, but I couldn't catch him It was my fault.  My mom
and my dad, they took me in their arms, and held me, and we all cried
together, and they never held it against me. I let their baby boy die,
and they never held it against me. Where the hell have you been,
Mrs. Tillot?  Your son has spent his whole life hunting for his
sister, his whole life, and where the hell have you been?  You didn't
even return my calls when he was dying in Alaska.  My mom helped look
after him when he came home, not you.  Me and my mom.  The poor Irish
woman, with the dead baby, whose funeral wiped out their life's
savings and her so called whore of a daughter.  You never even invited
your son home for the holidays."  Scully stood there glaring at the
woman, her fists clenched, all the pain of her childhood coming to the
forefront to join the pain of this past week.
     "My girls...I was afraid something would happen to my girls...."
Ruth said quickly.
     "You were afraid you might have to think of someone other than
yourself," raged Dana.  "He loves you so much he's already asked me
for a divorce, and you never even invited him home for Christmas.  Get
out.  For now he still my husband, and I love him, so just go and let
me be with him.  Now."
     Dana turned her back to the woman and waited until she had left.
Then she lowered her head onto the bed and cried.  Finally, she could
no longer contain her tears.  Unbeknownst to Dana, Ruth stood watching
in the doorway.
  
===========================================================================

From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Gener/Inlaw(9)/Macspooky/Juliettt
Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:02 -0400


"Mother-In-Law"   Chapter 9  All disclaimers still apply.

     Ruth Tillot stood in the doorway of her son's hospital room
watching the young redheaded woman that was his wife weeping over him.
She stood stock-still, her heart pounding, as her daughter-in-law's
broken words reached her ears.

     "Oh, Fox," she wept, "I tried -- I tried so hard.  I'm so sorry
-- I should have tried harder to understand.  But it hurt so much,
Spook -- and I didn't know . . . she hates me.  Your own mother hates
me. . . . She doesn't understand about Sam . . . I hardly understand
it myself.  That you should choose *me* -- but she can't understand
that it wasn't Sam, that you've never stopped looking. . . ."  Her
sobs grew louder.  If he died she would lose him twice.  She would
lose her best friend and partner; but through his request for a
divorce she had already lost her lover and husband and the father of
the children who would never be born now.  She wouldn't even be a
widow if he died, not really, because he had stopped loving her -- not
even the memory of what they had could sustain her anymore.

     "Oh, Spook," she said, and on her lips, as always, the hated name
lost all its sting, "we got the results back on the body.  It wasn't
Sam -- do you hear me, Fox?  It wasn't Sam.  She's still out there
somewhere."
 And then her heart leapt with a great hope.  Maybe she could still keep a
part of him for herself if he lived.  It wasn't all she wanted but it
would be better than having nothing at all.  "Mulder," she said quietly,
trying to keep her voice steady, "Mulder, Samantha is still out there. 
You have to find her.  We," she choked, "*we* have to find her.  No matter
-- no matter what happens between us I will still be your partner, if you
will have me.  We will search for Sam and we will find her -- together we
will find her."  And then her voice broke again.  "Please, please, Fox --
I can't bear to search for her alone. . . ."  And then she wept.

     "Oh, Fox. . . . How many children?  Sam -- and Brendan . . . and
. .  ." she was choking now, her words barely coherent to the woman
standing spellbound in the hallway, ". . . and our little one, our
baby, so young we'll never even know whether it was a boy or a
girl. . . ."  Dana Scully was no hysterical woman, but all her
defenses were gone.  She broke down completely now, her slight body
racked by sobs as she wept for herself, wept for Fox, wept most of all
that there would never be any little boys and girls with Fox's gentle
hazel eyes and his teasing grin.  She would lose him, whether to death
or to divorce, and in losing him she would lose herself.

     Finally she wept herself out and stood up, wiping her eyes.  She
glanced over at the doorway.  It was empty -- Ruth Tillot had stood
unseen and listened and then slipped away unnoticed.  She turned back
to the bed.

     He was so still, and so beautiful, this man she loved.  She would
always love him -- always, even if he left her.  She felt a pang at
the emptiness in her body, the emptiness she knew would never leave
her again.  No baby in her arms.  No baby inside her.  And worst of
all, no Fox inside her, warm and strong and gentle, holding her in the
night, kissing and caressing and loving her, no Fox teasing her with
his quick jokes and lightning wit, no Fox at her side in search of the
truth . . . no Fox . . . no Fox . . . no Fox ever again. . . .

     She felt suddenly cold.  Would she ever be warm again?  Suddenly
as she looked at him the temptation was too strong.  Once more.  She
would hold him just once more before she lost him forever.

     She slipped her shoes off and pulled back the covers and slid
into bed beside him.  She rested her head carefully on his upper
chest, her forehead tucked into the curve of his neck that had always
felt like it was made just for her.  She tucked one hand under the
small of his back and carefully slid the other up around his neck so
that she was gently embracing him.  There.  If she closed her eyes she
could almost imagine that they were in their own bed at home, the
peacefulness of the dark apartment wrapping them in warmth and love
and safety.  There was always so much love there at home.

     And then the tears stung at her eyelids and she wept again,
silently, knowing that her apartment would never truly be home again.
The tears slid down her face but she would not let him go even for a
moment to wipe them away.  And finally, physically and emotionally
worn out, she slept.

     In her exhaustion she never noticed the moment when Mulder
slipped from unconsciousness into natural sleep.

*****

     Warm.  So warm.  Dana Scully smiled drowsily.  It was morning --
late morning by the feel of it -- and she was lying in her husband's
arms.  She sighed happily.  Heaven.  She shifted slightly.  His arm
tightened around her and she smiled again.  It was a trick she had
learned early on and she used it often just for the simple joy of
feeling him pull her closer to him, as though they could never be
close enough.  His chest was warm and firm under her face and his
smell seemed to cling to her hair and skin as she slowly, gently
rubbed it against him.  She could hear his heart thudding strongly
under her ear.  She reached up and brushed his throat with her lips,
tasting his familiar and exciting taste.  If she opened her eyes she
would see him smiling down at her, his eyes soft and hazy with love,
his face relaxed in contentment.
 Or perhaps he would still be asleep and she could watch him for awhile,
admiring the still, carved planes of his face, the cleft in his chin that
seemed to follow up through his lower lip in the form of that eminently
kissable and delicious crease, his long eyelashes making curved shadows on
his cheeks, before temptation finally overcame her and she awakened him in
one of the several ways she had before.

     And then other details began registering on her senses.  Mulder's
smell was accompanied by the faint odor of rubbing alcohol.  The
warmth that had soaked into her bones from his body could not ward off
the chill on her bare foot which had somehow escaped the cocoon of
covers.  The sheets themselves felt thin and rough, not the soft,
thick, crisp cotton or flannel sheets of their own bed.  And over the
rhythmic sound of his breathing and heartbeat she could hear a
mechanical beeping sound.

     And then it all came back to her with a cold, chilling clarity
and she allowed a single, choked sob to escape her throat when she
remembered that she was in a hospital room, Fox's hospital room, and
that she was holding her comatose, possibly dying husband, and that
their last words had been of a divorce.

     She snuggled deeper into his arms, desperately wishing for the
release of sleep, a blessed return to that deep, dark place where
Mulder was alive and still loved her.  Where they still had a future.
She closed her eyes as his arm tightened around her again and
wished. . . .

     And then her eyes snapped open.  His arm *was* around her, *had*
tightened around her -- she was certain of it.  Slowly she lifted her
head.

     And gazed right into Fox Mulder's eyes, hazy with tenderness and
concern.  She gave him one amazed, hungry look and flung her arms
around him and wept.

     "Shhh . . . it's okay, lo-- Dana," he soothed.  "It's all right."

     She clung to him for a moment and then pushed herself resolutely
away.  "I'm -- sorry," she muttered, trying to pull herself into a
sitting position.  In doing so she missed the cloud of disappointment
and sorrow that crossed his face.

     "Oh, Dana," he whispered brokenly, "can't you -- please, can't
you give me another chance?"  She turned to stare at him, amazed.

     "Give you -- but I thought you wanted. . . ."

     "Wanted what?" he whispered, his eyes wide with pain.

     "A -- a divorce," she forced herself to say, closing her eyes
against the anguish of the word.

     "I never . . . I thought. . . ."  They looked at each other.

     "Fox," she said slowly, almost timidly, "you said -- over lunch
you said you wanted. . . ."

     "I said I'd give you . . . if you wanted a divorce I would give
you one," he whispered, fear and hope warring on his face.

     "No . . . oh, no . . . I never . . . " she broke off and they
stared at each other again.

     And then they were in one another's arms holding each other,
tears of joy and anguish streaming down their faces.  "Oh, Dana -- I
love you so . . . never -- please, never leave me," he whispered.

     "Wolf -- oh, Fox, I thought I'd lost you . . . I'd never leave
you .  . . I'll stay as long as. . . ."

     "Forever," he whispered against her hair, and then their mouths
met in a deep, passionate kiss of joy and understanding and
forgiveness and unconditional love.  Finally he pulled back, shaken,
and tucked her into an embrace as tight as his injuries would allow.

     She lay in silence for a moment.  Then, "Fox. . . ."

     "What, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

     "I -- I started my period last night.  I had hoped . . ." she
broke off as the tears began again.  He rocked her gently,
understanding the depth of her sorrow.

     "That's okay, Shorts," he whispered.  "When I get all better
we're gonna try again and keep trying until we get it right."

     She had to smile at that.  "Promise?" she whispered back.

     "Promise," he murmured against her mouth.

     "I love you, Spook," she said softly.  His eyes filled with
tears.  There was still so much they had to work out, still so much
left to say.  But their words of reassurance and love had spanned the
gap that misunderstanding and anguish had created, and the chasm no
longer yawned as large and forbidding as it had.  Now they were, if
not yet on the same side, at least working towards one another.  Now
they could begin to heal.

     They were both exhausted, and it was not long before they slept
again.  But this time they slept the sleep of deep happiness instead
of grief and pain.  And when the nurse came in to give Mulder his
medication and found them she noticed that the lines were gone from
his forehead for the first time since he had been admitted and that
his pretty doctor wife had a faint smile on her face instead of the
look of perpetual worry and anguish she had worn for the past few
days.  She looked, the nurse thought, at least ten years younger.  And
with a smile of her own she left without administering the painkiller
to report these facts to the doctor.

===========================================================================

From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Gener/Inlaw(10)/Macspooky/Juliettt
Date: 4 Oct 1995 09:23:02 -0400


"Mother-In-Law"   Chapter 10  All disclaimers still apply.

     "Doctor . . ." the young woman turned to find a petite lady
standing in front of her, biting her lip.  She was beautiful, with
dark hair only touched with gray and clear blue eyes clouded with
worry.  Looking into those eyes the young resident reestimated the
woman's age.  She had guessed her to be in her forties, but now she
estimated that she was a decade older.

     "May I help you, ma'am?"

     She nodded.  "I hope so.  I'm looking for Fox Mulder."

     The doctor started in surprise.  "You're not his mother . . . you
must be. . . ."

     She nodded again.  "His mother-in-law.  I'm Margaret Scully."

     *Dana's mother.  Of course.  The same build, the same blue eyes,
the same beauty, somewhat faded by years and worry, of course,
but. . . .* "This way, Mrs.  Scully."

     "Is he. . . ?"

     The younger woman smiled.  "He came out of the coma early this
morning."

     Margaret Scully sighed and breathed a quick prayer of gratitude.
She had driven as quickly as she could, mentally preparing herself for
whatever lay ahead.  Walt had wanted to accompany her but he was right
in the middle of an investigation, so he had instead sent with her his
cellular phone and his car with federal plates and the promise that he
would personally pay any speeding tickets.  She knew, deep down, that
Skinner's concern for the young couple was not just as the daughter
and son-in-law of his future wife; the Assistant Director sincerely
cared for his two wayward agents in spite of -- or perhaps because of
-- the difficulties they had caused him.  She remembered that he had
once confessed in a lighter moment that Fox Mulder reminded him of
himself at a younger age.

     Margaret paused in the open doorway, her eyes suddenly tender.
They lay clasped together on the narrow bed, her youngest daughter and
the man she loved, her head tucked under his chin, his face buried in
the red hair that fanned out across the pillow.  There was something
slightly odd about their posture, though -- and then she realized that
Mulder was curled up against Scully and she had her arms wrapped
tightly around him as though she were trying to enfold his much larger
body with her own.  There was something not quite right -- almost a
sense of desperation in the way they clung to one another.  Stepping
closer, she could see the tracks of tears on both their faces.  If Fox
had awakened and Dana had been there, surely there would have been
tears of joy on both sides.  Still, she wondered. .  . .

     She sank carefully to the chair beside the bed and watched them
sleep.

*****

     Dana Scully awoke with a start.  Her husband was stirring in her
arms, moaning softly.  In an instant she went from drowsy incoherence
to competent wakefulness, the doctor in her snapping her mind into
full alert.

     "Fox -- Fox, it's okay," she soothed him.  "I'm here, Fox. . . ."

     His eyelids fluttered open.  "Dana?"

     She smiled at him, her eyes concerned.  "Yes . . . I'm here, Fox.
What is it?  Are you in pain?"

     He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head.  She sighed.  He
hated to admit when he was sick or suffering.  "Fox Mulder, either you
tell me what's wrong or I'll *really* give you a reason to cry. . . ."
She broke off at the sound of a soft chuckle behind her and swung to
see her mother watching them with a wry smile on her face.  Tears came
to Scully's eyes.  *Thanks, Mom -- I really needed you here.* She gave
her mother a brief smile and then turned back to Mulder.  She
struggled to sit up and then bent over him.  "Mulder, talk to me."
     
     He shook his head, his face contorted.

     "Okay, you're *gonna* get some of the good stuff whether you tell
me where it hurts or not, so you might as well.  Come on, Wolf," she
whispered seductively in his ear, "I have to protect my property, you
know -- reassure me -- tell me it's not one of the *important*
parts. . . ."

     His eyes flew open, startled, and he stared at her.  Then he
smiled -- more of a grimace, really.  "No, Shorts -- it's not one of
the "important" parts . . . unless you consider ribs, shoulder, and
back important, that is."

     She smiled triumphantly.  *It worked!  Guess I'll have to
remember this tactic. . . .* "Oh, but Spook," she said softly, "I
consider *all* your parts important -- and very, very necessary."  She
reached for the call button and summoned the nurse, then slid back
down and took him in her arms.  "They're going to give you something
to help, Wolf, but I'm afraid it's going to knock you out, okay?"  He
simply closed his eyes and rested against her breast.  When the nurse
came in she spoke quietly, ordering a dose of painkiller and muscle
relaxant.  The other woman nodded.

     "I came in earlier this morning but he was sleeping peacefully.
Despite what 'civilians' think, we don't like to wake patients up to
give them pain meds if they can go without," she explained.  "And
sometimes TLC is the best medicine you can get."  She picked up a
bottle and syringe that had been lying in wait on a nearby counter and
filled the needle, then injected the solution into Mulder's IV.  "That
should take effect almost immediately," she assured Scully, then
turned and left.

     *If I'd known his meds were there I could have given them to him
myself,* Scully realized.  Then she dismissed that thought.  She
didn't want to let go of him, not for a second, now that she had him
back, now that he was awake -- and hers again.  She smiled softly.
"Fox. . . ."

     "Hmmm?"  The painkillers were beginning to kick in.

     "I need to talk to Mom, and I think you'll rest better flat on
your back for now, okay?"

     "Mmm-mm," he protested, though his voice and movements were
getting weaker.

     "Come on, Spook," she whispered against his hair.  "You made me a
promise, remember?  I need you to rest so you can get better and out
of this hospital. . . ."  She allowed her voice to trail off
suggestively.  His eyes were half shut but she could swear she saw an
answering gleam behind his eyelashes.  She chuckled and bent to place
a tender kiss on his lips.  He did not respond.  He was out.  She
sighed.  "When I said I didn't want you fighting me, this is *not*
what I had in mind," she murmured.  There was an answering chuckle
from behind her again.  With a smile she brushed his forehead with her
lips and carefully slid out of the bed, arranging his head and arms so
that he would rest comfortably.  Then she turned to face her mother,
who had risen to stand by the bed.

     "Mom . . ." her mother held out her arms and enfolded her
daughter in a loving and protective embrace.  Scully tensed for a
moment, then sagged against Maggie, her body limp.

     After a few moments Dana straightened up.  Her mother pulled back
and looked down at her.  Her daughter's eyes were swollen and damp --
she looked as though she had been crying for hours, and she probably
had, the older woman realized.  Mrs. Scully dipped into her purse and
brought out a Kleenex and handed it to Scully, then led her to the far
side of the room where two chairs stood.  As they passed the bed Dana
glanced over at Fox, but he was sound asleep.

     They took their seats and Mrs. Scully waited while her daughter
finished wiping her eyes.  Then she sat back and gave her mother a
tremulous smile.

     "You want to tell me about it?" she asked gently.

     Dana sighed.  "I thought -- this time I really thought I was
going to lose him," she whispered.

     Her mother regarded her closely.  "He's going to be all right.
But that's not all, is it, hon?"  she asked softly.

     Scully shook her head and two tears rolled down her cheeks.  "We
-- before he got -- hurt, we had an awful fight.  Not just an argument
-- we've had those before and made up every time," here she smiled,
thinking of just how they usually made up after those arguments.

     "But this time -- it was different.  We said -- horrible things
to each other . . ." she trailed off again, looking miserable.

     Maggie Scully sighed.  "Dana, sometimes in a marriage you go
through these -- troubled times.  Your father and I did.  My parents
did.  You'll go through more of them in all probability.  You just
have to remember, sweetheart, that Fox loves you and you love him and
that when you come out on the other side of the fight you'll be
waiting for each other."

     "But, Mom -- this time I really didn't know if we would come out
on the other side. . . ."

     Mrs. Scully sighed again.  Her daughter had been hurt very
deeply, she could tell.  Would Dana and Fox ever have a chance at
normalcy?  Trouble just seemed to plague them, and it certainly had
not stopped after their marriage.  But this -- she hesitated for a
moment, wondering whether or not to push.

     "Sweetheart," she said finally.  "If you want to talk about it
I'll listen, but. . . ."

     That was all it took.  Dana took one look at her mother's
sympathetic face and began talking, her words tumbling over themselves
in her urgency to unburden herself of her pain and fear and guilt.
How much she had loved him and for how long.  The half-joking
proposal.  His refusal to make love to her until after they were
married.  The crazy wedding and their anxiety over anyone at the
Bureau finding out and splitting them up.  Then, blushing a little,
how wonderful Fox had been, how caring and gentle, with her, on their
wedding night.  The stupid arguments they had had at Christmas about
the razor and the tree and the coffee grounds on the carpet, and the
joy of finding out that she was pregnant.  His guilt over possibly
causing the miscarriage.  Her terror that perhaps *They* had done
something to her during her abduction that would prevent her from ever
having children.  Fox's refusal to make love to her during those three
awful months, and how much she had needed him, needed to know that he
still wanted her the way she wanted him.  The stupid parrot and the
awful things she had said to him about finding another man -- things
she had never, never meant but could not take back once they had been
said.  Then making up and praying that there would be another
baby. . . .

     Then she took a deep breath and told her mother about finding out
that Mulder had never told his mother that they were married.  Of the
pain and sorrow and betrayal she had felt when he had taken off his
ring and left it in D.C.  How he had tried to reconcile with her at
the inn but she had shut him out, physically and emotionally.  Not
about their conversation at the pizza parlor -- she couldn't tell even
her mother that.  The wounds were too deep and too fresh, only just
begun to heal, and talking about it would only cause them to start
bleeding again.

     But she did tell her how much Mrs. Tillot hated her, and why, and
then, with tears in her eyes, of finding out the night before that she
wasn't going to have a baby after all, that Mulder might die and she
would be alone again. . . .

     Margaret Scully reached for her daughter, tears in her own eyes,
and held her for a long moment, stroking her hair.  Dana had never
been very forthcoming with her emotions -- she tended to hold
everything inside until she could not take it any more.  But when the
dam burst. . . .  She watched Fox Mulder sleep, conflicting emotions
-- anger, love, pity, even a slight tinge of amusement -- warring
within her for prominence.  They were more like than they knew, these
two.  Finally she sighed and drew back to look at Dana with a
half-smile.

     "Sweetheart, the problem with you and Fox is that you know just
how to push each other's buttons.  You know one another so completely
that you know just exactly what will set him off just as he knows how
to get to you.  And because you are both so strong and strong-willed
. . ." *don't pull any punches, Maggie* . . . "and *stubborn*, you
push those buttons every time."  Dana nodded dully.  Her mother took a
deep breath and went on.  "Darling, you have to realize that you and
Fox are able to *hurt* each other so much because you are able to
*love* each other so much.  As I listened to you talk one common theme
kept coming up.  You hurt each other the most not by disagreeing about
money or relatives or how big a Christmas tree to buy.  You do it by
*withholding* yourselves from one another -- whether emotionally or
physically or psychologically.  The capacity for great joy is matched
by the capacity for great pain.  And this is your marriage's greatest
hazard -- *and* its greatest saving grace.  Because when you punish
him by withholding yourself from him you are also punishing
*yourself*."

     She took another deep breath.  Now for those dragon-infested
waters.  "Sweetheart," she continued softly, "I think that when Fox
refused to make love to you for those three months he was -- perhaps
-- punishing himself as much as he was trying to protect you.  He has
always taken the responsibility for Samantha on himself, and while you
were -- gone -- he blamed himself for being unable to protect you.
And so I think that maybe he was blaming himself for not being able to
save your baby as well.  I know," she hurried on, raising a hand to
forestall Scully's objections, "I know that it wasn't his fault.  But
Fox," and here she looked over at him tenderly, her earlier anger
dissipated, "Fox has a very protective nature.  He has come to believe
that the only way he can show his love is by being protective --
sometimes overprotective.  That's why he never explained to his mother
about Sam, why he agreed not to tell her you were married.  Why he
risked his life to save his sisters."

     She smiled lovingly at her daughter.  "You fascinate him, Dana,
but you also scare him.  You're strong and independent and fully
capable of taking care of yourself.  He loves and admires and respects
that about you, and deep down he loves the fact that he has finally
found someone strong enough to take care of *him* as well."

     She paused.  "But it also frightens him, sweetheart.  He's
convinced himself that he is responsible for everyone he loves.  But
you don't like to be coddled, and you won't let him be overprotective.
I think he sees that as a rejection of his love, Dana.  And he hasn't
yet figured out another way of loving you."

     The younger woman stared up at her in shock, realization dawning
on her face.  <The investigation -- he saw the way I was working with
Both, without his help -- that I could take care of myself and the
case, too -- he thought I didn't need him. . . . The miscarriage -- he
equated making love with putting me in danger -- he wouldn't touch me
for three months because to him that *was* love -- and he saw my
attempts to seduce him as a rejection of that protective love of
his. . . . Not telling his mother was his way of protecting *me* as
well as *her*. . . . Even his offer of a divorce was because he
thought he was holding me back professionally and personally.  It all
makes sense in a Mulderish sort of way.>

     She nodded at her mother, tears starting to her eyes.  "I think I
understand," she said softly.
     
     Her mother nodded back.  "So what do you think the answer is?"
She watched curiously as Dana took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and
smiled.

     "I guess I've got to learn to give in a little -- just a little
-- and let him be overprotective once in a while.  And I guess we've
got to teach each other new ways of loving that help us both instead
of hurting."

     Mrs. Scully smiled.  As usual, her brilliant daughter had hit the
proverbial nail on the head.  "He's still got a lot of the little boy
inside him, Dana, the part that never really lived and so never really
grew up."

     She grinned affectionately.  "Mom, for an amateur psychologist,
you're pretty good."

     She smiled back.  "After six children, I should be. . . ."  Her
smile faded a little.  It had been many years, but she had never
forgotten about Brendan.  He would be a man now, perhaps with his own
wife and children.  She sighed a little.  No one could ever take his
place, but Fox Mulder had done a lot to ease that old ache.  She
looked at her daughter, knowing that she, too, would mark the years,
all the little anniversaries they would have celebrated with the child
they had lost.  But now Fox was getting well, and hopefully . .
. hopefully there would be other children to fill that emptiness.

     She jumped up suddenly.  "Oh, Dana," she exclaimed, "I forgot to
call Walt -- he wanted to know as soon as there was any news."

     Scully nodded and looked over at Mulder.  "You go ahead.  And
tell him -- thanks for everything," she added.

     Her mother looked at her and smiled.  Dana Kate still looked
absolutely exhausted -- when she came back she would insist that she
go back to the hotel for a shower and a real rest; hopefully her baby
girl had taken what she said about love and protectiveness to heart --
but there was a peace in Dana's eyes now.  She glanced over at Fox,
who was beginning to stir on the bed.  Things would be all right for
these two.  They loved each other too much to remain apart for long.
She gave her daughter's shoulder a squeeze and went to call Walter.

     Scully watched her mother leave the room and smiled.  It had
taken a while for her to get used to it, but Maggie was genuinely in
love with Skinner.

     She walked over to the bed and stood gazing down at Mulder.  He
shifted and reached out with his right arm -- for her, she realized
with a pleasant shock.  He winced -- the right side was the injured
side -- and grasped at the covers beside him with his left hand, a
frown flitting across his face.  Then his eyes opened and she could
see the disorientation and worry.  She stepped closer to the bed.  The
movement caught his attention and his gaze snapped up to meet hers.
She smiled and was rewarded when he immediately relaxed, a faint smile
on his own face.

     "You had a good sleep," she informed him, walking around to sit
on the bed beside him.  He shrugged a little.

     "I didn't know where I was at first when I woke up," he said
slowly.  "I wasn't sure . . ."  his eyes flickered up to meet hers and
he reached out his left hand, tentatively resting it on her knee.

     She took his hand in her own and squeezed it reassuringly.  "I'm
here, Spook," she said softly.  His face lit up.

     "I thought maybe I had dreamed you."

     She slid her legs up onto the bed and lay back against the
pillows, her head on his shoulder.  He slid his arm around her and
sighed contentedly against her hair.  Then she felt him tense
slightly.

     "Did you get any rest, Dana?" he asked.

     She shrugged.  "Just earlier, when we were both asleep.  I've
been talking to Mom," she concluded.

     "Dana, you really should get some slee . . ." he trailed off.
She smiled faintly.  Evidently he had been doing some soul-searching
as well.  <Now's the time to give a little,> that small voice reminded
her.

     "You're right," she informed him calmly.  Then she lightened her
tone somewhat.  "With all the rest you're getting these days I'll have
to start sleeping just so I can keep up with you when they let you
out."

     His jaw dropped at her easy acquiescence to his concern for her.
What had Mom Scully been telling her daughter?  Then he grinned.  He
had not been oblivious to the undercurrent and promise implicit in her
teasing.  Out of the hospital -- home again -- home with Dana --
making love to Dana again -- holding her -- he had thought he would
never get to hold her again. . . . He swallowed hard, tears in his
eyes.

     "Dana, I wish . . ." he trailed off.

     "What do you wish, Fox?"  She shifted to face him but he would
not meet her eyes.

     "I wish . . . I wish I had never taken off my ring," he finished
miserably.

     She propped herself up on her elbow to look down into his face.
His eyes were cast down and he plucked nervously at the sheet.

     "I wish I had it here," he whispered.  "I'm so sorry . . . so
sorry I hurt you. . . . It was mean . . . but I didn't do that to hurt
you.  I did -- other things to hurt you," he forced himself to say,
"but not *that*.  I wish. . . ."

     She bent and kissed him gently, then lifted her head and smiled
into his eyes.  "I wish every wish were so easy to grant," she said
softly, slipping her hands around the back of his neck to undo the
clasp of the chain she had fastened there earlier.  When she drew the
necklace away and held it up to his gaze he was surprised to see that
there on the chain with the cross she always wore was his ring.  He
had been wearing it around his neck the entire time he was in the
hospital and had never realized it.

     He looked up into her eyes, which were brimming with emotion.
Knowing now as he did that she had despaired that their marriage was
over, he understood that she had hung the ring around his neck hoping
that it would somehow bring him back to her.  He guessed that, in a
way, it had -- her faith had.

     <I had the strength of your beliefs.>

     She refastened the cross around her own neck and held the heavy
gold band out to him.  "I was afraid Krycek would swallow it," she
said with a forced laugh.

     He looked at her in wonder.  <Krycek?> "I would have wrung his
little parrot neck if he had," he smiled back.

     A healing silence passed between them and grew, filling the air
with warmth and safety and love.  He looked back down at the proffered
ring and shook his head.

     "No," he said quietly.  "You put it on."  He carefully slid his
left arm from under the covers and held his hand out to her palm-side
down.

     She looked at him for a moment, looked at his hand.  They had
only been married a few months but already she could see a faint pale
band on his finger where the ring had been.  She kissed it gently,
then slid the band onto his finger and kissed it again.  Fortunately
the swelling in his fingers had gone down enough so that it slipped on
easily.  In fact, she thought with a faint smile, perhaps it was
actually a *good* thing that he had taken it off -- given the
swollenness of both his hands the first few days after his admittance
to the hospital they might have had to cut it otherwise.  Of course,
then she would have been able to justify buying him a ring to match
the gorgeous set he had given her. . . .  She looked up into his eyes
and suddenly it didn't matter anymore.

     He reached up with his good hand and brushed her hair out of her
face.  "I'll never take it off again," he promised solemnly.  "I love
you, Mrs. Mulder."  Then he chuckled.  "MD," he said as if it were an
afterthought.

     Her eyes laughed down into his and she bent to kiss him.  He
responded eagerly, pinning her body against his with his right arm as
their kisses grew hungrier and more passionate.

     <Cut it out, Dana -- he's not up to this,> the rational part of
her brain warned her.  But the irrational part, as well as her entire
body, wasn't listening.  As usual.

     Apparently, neither was his.

     "Hem."  They both jumped.  Mrs. Scully was standing in the
doorway smiling at them, a look of amusement and something else --
relief? pity? -- on her face. They blushed and separated sheepishly,
Dana running her fingers through the already tousled hair that matched
her now-flaming face.

     "Sorry," her mother said shortly.  She knew Fox needed his rest.
And she knew that they knew that as well.  "Dana, honey, why don't you
head back to the inn and get some rest?  I'll stay here with Fox."

     Scully opened her mouth to protest.  Mulder gave her hand a
little squeeze.  "You heard the lady, Shorts.  You wanna be able to
keep up with me when I get out of here, remember?"

     Maggie watched with interest as her daughter's blush heightened
another shade and wondered what she had missed.  She turned around and
began rummaging aimlessly in her purse when Dana bent back over her
husband and did not turn back around until she heard the creak of the
bedsprings as the younger woman stood up.

     Fox held his wife's hand in his own for a moment.  Their eyes met
and once again Mrs.  Scully was aware of the silent communication that
flowed between them.  Then Dana smiled and gave his fingers a final
squeeze.

     '"I'll be back in a few hours," she promised, and then left
hurriedly as if forcing herself to go.

     Maggie settled down in the chair next to her son-in-law's bed and
opened her book.

     "Mom," he said quietly.

     "Fox, you promised to rest. . . ."  She glanced up and caught the
look in his eyes.  "What is it, hon?"

     "Thanks," he said simply.  She reached for his hand and squeezed
it, nodding.  He sighed and eased back against the pillows.  Soon he
was fast asleep.

     She sat watching him for awhile.  He was a good man, her
daughter's husband, and he loved Dana very much.  With only faint
surprise she noticed that he was now wearing his wedding ring.

     <Leave it to Dana to think of everything.> She smiled and settled
down to read and watch and wait.