Absit Invidia - Part 2

The days pass smoothly for the most part. We have a few problems. Some kind of buzzing flies make life miserable outside for a week or so. They're gone as fast as they arrive. One bad storm drops a tree on the Lodge...gaping hole in the roof. We work to salvage what we can before nature encroaches and there's nothing left to salvage. The four intact cabins become our storage facilities. We're doing pretty good actually. Walter and Scully figure that we should be ok food-wise at least until the baby comes...which should be October at the latest but then...we'll need to hope the garden is bountiful and the game still plentiful or...we'll have to fan out and find more food...or...we know the alternatives...we'll do whatever it takes. We always have and we always will.

Walter turns 48 in June. Scully bakes a cake this time...we do have our choice still of boxed cakes that were in the Lodge kitchen. I wonder if the guests ever knew they were getting instant coffee and boxed cake mixes. Walter's cake is German chocolate too. Well...chocolate is the preferred drug around here I guess. There isn't much in the way of gifts because he insists we keep it low key. I think he's...angsting a little about getting older. I noticed he has to take his glasses off to read up close lately. Bifocal time. So, we downplay things a little. I clean his Smith and Wesson which we ran out of ammo for long ago but I know he likes to keep up. Scully cuts his hair and later takes him to bed and I can hear him protesting because he's a little afraid to be with her in her condition now. But they spoon together and make love, and he enters her gently and not deeply from behind, and I know why she did it...when they come back downstairs there's more of a swagger to his step and I know he's not feeling like an old fart any longer.

Life pretty much centers around the baby coming. Practical matters. Walter constructs a cradle of sorts. He puts a board in the bottom of a wooden fruit crate. Puts some blankets in it...and some rabbit skins he found up in the Lodge. These were store purchased for Lodge ambiance of course. I chuckle. The kid's going to look like Bugs Bunny. I put a piece of foam rubber in a pillowcase over the skins and he nods in satisfaction, slaps me on the back. "That'll do for a bed," he rumbles. Maternity clothes were a trick. Scully wears Walter's shirts at first. Later some of the summer Lodge guest clothes fit. One guy had a hell of a beer belly...and I think his wife resembled Roseanne Barr.

So, Scully's comfortable...although she bemoans her appearance. It's hormones even though she's a trooper. She cries more...is moody...gets cravings. Walter's a rock...so patient...sometimes...I'm less so but...I'm doing pretty good. In August and September we start heavily harvesting the garden. Sun drying tomatoes, freezing some of the other vegetables. Scully makes a valiant effort to help but by this time she's tiring more easily...and she's big and yeah...kind of ungainly and...she's upset she can't stay out there but she sits inside, bagging veggies and manning the radio while Walter and I bring in the harvest and she feels a little more useful. Then, one night after Scully's asleep, Walter claps me on the back and says..."It won't be long now," and then we both realize what he said and we swallow hard. Christ. We don't even know for sure when she conceived and she's huge and yeah...it could happen any minute and...

Discussion about delivery. "Damn it, Walter, I don't know anything about delivering a baby." I whine...trying not to sound like Butterfly McQueen in 'Gone with the Wind'. "I mean I've had the First Aid courses but...this is way different," I add. "Well...I've delivered two babies," Walter confesses. "One was in Nam but the other was just before I made AD. So...I know a little about it. I had the courses too, of course," he admits. "Scully's a doctor...she helped deliver a baby when we were in Florida once," I reply. He raises an eyebrow, gruff snort. "I'm not sure she's going to be in a position to help much this go around," he advises. I shrug. "Well, we'd better get some supplies together," I suggest. "Yeah...there's some rubbing alcohol...we need to sharpen the scissors for cutting the cord," I add. "I think it's a good idea if we put everything in the loft," Walter advises. I nod and then I add, quietly..."Christ Walter...what about the pain and..." I don't want to say what if she needs a C-section...I mean she's so petite and...we're not and...Walter fixes me with a measured look and I know he's thinking the same thing. "She's going to have to bite the bullet, Mulder. We don't have anything that's safe to administer for the pain." I nod and the only thing I can think of is women have been giving birth for centuries, even in the African bush and God...we have got to get through this, and then...on October 11th, 2001, 11 PM...

I wake up and Scully's standing by the side of the bed and her panties are soaked and liquid is dripping and...Oh shit..."Walter!" I yelp, jump out of bed and go to her, and he wakes up and Scully says, "Calm down...it's normal...my water broke," and then she winces...she's in labor. "How long?" Walter asks, getting up, and grabbing his briefs and glasses. "I've been feeling...twinges all day but...I couldn't be sure. I guess I am now," she replies, her voice strained. Walter gives a curt nod. I just stand there...staring...paralyzed. Walter shoves his glasses on...pulls on his underwear, looks at me. "Mulder...put your pants on and then go boil some water," he orders. I snap out of it, snap to it...dress, turn and run down the loft stairs. Sure I know that's what they tell the panicked husbands to do...so?

I throw some more wood on the fire, and think it's lucky it gets cool now at night because it's going to get hot in here. I open a window a little since they're screened over. I put on the water. Everything else is upstairs already and when I come back up with the bucket holding the handle in a towel, Scully's lying on the bed, naked but under a sheet. Her stomach looks like one of the snow-covered mountains around here. The bed's a little wet. I'm glad we brought a spare mattress down from the Lodge. We're going to need it I think as Walter takes the bucket...sets it on the floor, dumps a little alcohol in it, and then reaches for one of the cloths and the bar of soap that are on the night stand. He glances at Scully's stomach...his eyes wander lower. "I'm going to...uh..." he swallows...embarrassed and I almost laugh. This is the guy who's been doing her doggie style over the kitchen table? But then I don't smirk because I realize to Walter this is different now...she's vulnerable, and she's about to become the mother of his child...well 50/50 chance but you know what I mean. "Help me clean up," Scully finishes for him and lays a hand over his. "Yeah," he nods. Between the three of us we get her up and over to the chair we've placed in the corner. Sit her down. Walter washes her...upper and lower and then washes his hands and arms up to his elbows, and I lay clean sheets on the bed...towels over the small wet area that's there, and then I wash up too. Finally we dry ourselves off and Scully too with a big fluffy towel and back to the bed and then...we wait and...she labors. Christ...

She's in labor for hours...we take turns, wiping her brow, rubbing her stomach and back...giving her ice to suck on from the freezer in the fridge. Anything she needs. We talk with her at first, joking, keeping her spirits up. Hours of light labor and then things pick up, and she's very uncomfortable, and we're both up on the bed so she can take our hands when the contractions are rough. It's hard to watch and at one point I go downstairs to use the can, and get fresh water in the bucket, but really just to get away for a minute or two, and then Walter does the same. It's hard to watch the person you love suffer so much and I tell her and she laughs ruefully, gasping a little and says, "It's no picnic, believe me, Mulder, but...I want this baby more than anything right now," and I kiss her and tell her, "So do I, Scully, and I know Walter does too," and she smiles and says, "He said the same thing just before you came back upstairs."

Walter was wrong about her not being able to help. At first she can and she asks Walter to remove the sheet so she can see herself, and then I sit next to her, and he holds her hand, and she tries to describe what it feels like, and what she knows may be happening, and we run down the drill. When to not let her push and when to let her push. We can't do an episiotomy so if she tears, we'll have to do the best we can to stitch her up...we have needle and thread from the Lodge...and don't forget about the afterbirth and how to cut the cord and I'm getting focused and not as nervous as I was and...it's been almost 15 hours, but now I can tell we're getting there because the contractions are harder and close together and...

Walter has a suggestion. He tells us that in Nam the woman he helped with squatted to give birth. Gravity helps and Scully smiles weakly and gasps..."Not a bad idea," so we shift things a bit and I support her back on the bed and scoot her close to the foot, right on the edge and her feet are up on the mattress, legs spread...God...that has to be...embarrassing for her but...we're beyond that really now, and she rests against me, and smiles weakly before the next contraction. Walter sits on the floor between her legs...and still she labors.

Finally the pain has to be so bad, and I hold her tight against me because I know she's fighting it. I look down at Walter and he has his hands on her knees, her legs spread wide, and...she's panting...and I don't know what to do for her, and Walter's low, steady voice...voice of authority, and control and comfort..."Scully this is hard labor...if you have to scream, scream...we won't care," and she does and it's...Christ she's yelling like a banshee and cursing me...cursing Walter...cursing us both for getting her in this predicament, and Walter just nods and takes it, and I hold her hand and she squeezes it almost hard enough to break my fingers.

And she strains...tries to bear down, gasping, wordless...grunting...primal sounds and Walter is yelling at her, voice of command just like in the old days..."DON'T PUSH! DON'T PUSH YET!" and Scully groaning, "My God...I...I need to push," and Walter yelling, "GOD DAMN IT, NO!" when she won't stop, and it works and Scully slacks off a few moments until the next wave. I wipe her brow and she arches against me...panting and I say without even realizing it, "Oh shit...here we go again," and Walter's calm, controlled voice rumbling, "Ok...this is a contraction...now...push,"...and pressing just above her pubic bone. "It's ok...I can feel the head in here, it's in the right direction," reassuring her and she nods, panting...unable to speak and grunting again, and then Walter feeling her groin and then her cunt and finally..."Ok, I can see the top of the head. Push again now...hard...as hard as you can."

And she arches back against me, her face and neck straining...."Christ...it's coming," Walter's excited voice, "Come on Scully...you're doing great, push hard," he coaches. She nods and gasps...whining...as she bears down...I try to bend forward and see, but I can't, and I have to hold Scully as she bears down again, and then again, and I tell her I love her and Scully moans "I love you both so much," and finally she's laughing and sobbing and Walter's saying..."God...he's beautiful!"

It's a boy!? And I see it is and I think right away...thank God...he's not huge at all...and he starts to howl and I laugh, and look at Walter, and blurt out..."Christ he's bald and he even sounds like you...has to be yours," and Walter and I are laughing like hell, and Scully asks me to lay her down flat and I do, and Walter pulls the baby up, cord and all and lays him bloody and bawling lustily on Scully's stomach. Scully looks up at me, her eyes full of love and whispers..."Happy Birthday, Mulder", and I grin wide because holy shit, she's right, it's October 13th and...what a 40th birthday gift and then she adds, "You should cut the ccord," stuttering, exhausted but smiling wide. She's checking over the little guy's fingers and toes while I go for the scissors. Walter murmuring, "There wasn't any tearing...you're doing fine, Scully," and Scully mumbling, voice full of love, and relief, and joy in three simple words..."We did it."

Walter helps and I manage to take the scissors, and needle, and thread out of the bowl filled with alcohol, and clamp, and then cut the cord and stitch up the tiny bit that's left without a problem. Clean the little belly button off with soap and water, and then start to swab him off all over. Scully groans. "The afterbirth," she gasps out. I take the baby, place him in the cradle next to the bed...grab a towel from the night stand. Walter helps Scully to sit up again and several hard pushes and finally the afterbirth flops out into the towel where I hold it between her thighs. A bloody hunk of tissue. I fold the towel up and lay it aside. Walter lays her gently down again and I check on the baby, who's now quiet and watching the action like he's fascinated, but still bloody and sticky. "We've got to clean this up," I tell Walter and he stands and nods.

xXx

In short order the floor is clean, afterbirth tossed on the fire downstairs...it doesn't smell great but it's safer than throwing it outside where it might attract the wrong kind of animals. We'll try to wash the laundry later...or burn it more likely since there's so much blood. Walter helps Scully up, supports her with strong arms so she can use the other bucket we have rigged up. While she pees I finish cleaning up the baby and the bloody cradle bedding. I pop him into his dry little nest at last. Little howler...I know he's hungry. Eyes all scrunched shut. Lastly, I drag the mattress off and toss it down over the banisters. It lands with a dull thwack on the wood floor below. Wrestle the clean mattress onto the bed. Walter helps Scully sit in the wooden chair in the corner and bathes her again. We get her back to the bed, towels under her and between her legs to absorb any residual bleeding, and then Walter looks in the cradle. "He needs a diaper," he chuckles, clapping me on the back. Oh. Yeah. "I barely remember seeing my mother diaper Sam," I mumble and shrug. Walter nods. "Well...I'm an uncle...I kind of know how this goes," he advises...I touch his arm...the words are light but...heavy with implication...'I am an uncle...I was an uncle', he lays his hand over mine for a moment. "Let's get a clean towel. We can improvise something," he adds, with a small smile.

Finally, Scully and the baby are bathed and clean and in bed together and...the baby is diapered...little hunk of toweling tied around his hips. Scully has one of the beer belly guy's button-up shirts on and after a couple of moments of fumbling on Scully's part and then my ham-fisted attempt to help...the baby is having his first meal. Walter and I sit on either side of Scully as the baby nurses, Walter near his head.

He runs one large hand over the baby's tiny cranium. "We never talked about names," he murmurs, removing his hand. "No...no we didn't," Scully replies softly, kissing the baby's naked scalp and...he lets go of her nipple...opens his eyes and looks right at me and you know...I get a really good look at his eyes and relaxed face and I was joking before about him being Walter's but now...I reply quietly, "Maybe Walter might be a good idea." They both look at me and I gesture at the baby. His eyes are the color of a Cadbury chocolate bar...dark chocolate...just like Walter's eyes. "Most babies' eyes are that kind of weird bluish color but...brown is dominant so...sometimes..." I let my voice trail off...shrug. Even the kid's nose looks more like Walter's snubbed one more than my beak or Scully's slightly patrician one.

October 13th. If I count back I could almost make a case for the baby being conceived that morning I made a cup of coffee to celebrate Walter's recovery with Scully in the loft. And if I stopped to consider I'd also know that for almost two weeks after that neither of us was with her because all three of us had colds then and sex was the last thing on our minds. I look up at Walter and I can see the wheels turning in his mind as well. Scully looks from one to the other of us and when she speaks it's the perfect solution. "We didn't talk about names but I have been giving it some thought actually. You know...if you two don't mind...I'd like to call him Charles. He was always my favorite brother to be honest. I was thinking...Margaret or Melissa for a girl and Charles for a boy. I could have chosen Bill I suppose after my father, but...well that's Bill Jr. too...and I know Mulder would have had a cow," she adds. I chuckle. "I think that sounds great," Walter replies, nodding. "But I think...really...to be fair it should be Charles Scully-Skinner or...Skinner-Scully or whatever," I mumble, playing with the boy's little hand. Strong grip of little fingers but...he's getting drowsy now...tummy full. "Charles Mulder Skinner," Walter's deep voice replies. "Mulder makes a good middle name," he adds and I look up and Scully smiles. "There you go," she agrees and Walter smiles and I...I feel tears clog the back of my throat and I smile too.

xXx

Later as Scully sleeps upstairs, Charles in the cradle sleeping too, Walter and I sit downstairs in front of the fire...a little shell-shocked again. Silent for quite some time. Bourbons in hand. Dazed smiles. "Congratulations," I finally muster. I can tell he's...pleased beyond words really, but..."We might be wrong...there's no way of telling for sure without a blood test. I mean we can try to determine as he ages but...kids change..." he begins. I smile and shake my head a little and he stops talking. "Walter...I really do think he's yours. I did the math. The timing's right for the morning you and Scully were up in the loft...the first time you made love after your recovery," I tell him quietly.

Walter takes a sip of bourbon...puts the glass down on the coffee table and runs a hand over his scalp. "I kind of had that idea all along to be honest, Mulder. I guess...yeah...thanks...I guess we're both right," he replies with a rueful smile. I smirk...time for some gentle teasing. "And you thought you were over the hill...you dog...and right after getting over nearly dying too," I chuckle. "Fuck you," he growls and then we both laugh at the connotations there. We lapse into silence again and then Walter speaks seriously. "Speaking of which...from here on out Mulder...she's fertile...things...things in that area are going to have to..."

Oh man...I think..."Oh shit...yeah...we don't have any protection..." I let my voice trail off.

Walter straightens up and clears his throat. When he speaks I see AD Skinner assert himself and I feel my stomach flutter. I think I know what's coming...all the way down the line and I know I've been dreading it but it's inevitable. "Mulder...I've been doing a lot of thinking about that and a lot of things over the last month or so. We need to...if she's capable of having more children we need to practice some restraint here...something to keep her from popping out kids...or we'll all be in big trouble. And not only that...even if she wants to have another baby...man...I don't know. Hell...I don't want to risk it again. This went well...but next time..." his voice trails off. "We need medical help...I mean besides Scully," I reply. "Exactly," he sighs. "And besides the whole baby issue...if anything should happen where we need medical help at all..." And before he can continue I reply quietly, "I hear you."

Logical to a fault, Walter. And God knows before during and now after the fact...I was scared shitless something would go wrong and to be honest...the idea of sex right now...unless it was with Walter takes on a whole new angle...like scared shitless there too. And Christ...how would Scully feel about it? If I made her pregnant and there were complications from the pregnancy...ah...fuck it. My mind is racing, but then Walter is continuing to speak, and I yank my attention back to him.

"Besides that issue...we have to consider other factors here. Non-edible supplies are a mixed bag. We seem to have a lot of gas left in that underground tank...the well's fine. But other things are running low. We can conserve but...things like toothpaste are going to go here before long. You know we have enough food supplies left to eat well...nutritionally well for the baby I mean into February...maybe. After that...it'll be half rations but the food's not going to last into summer. We're not set up to grow a substantial amount even though we saved the seeds from the garden. Game's in good supply...I suppose we could try to live off the land...but, Mulder...food's going to be...this isn't going to work for Scully. She's going to need to keep producing as much milk as possible and that means..." he lets his voice trail off again, jaw tense.

We have to find another way. I think we've both known this and Scully has known it too. In fact we've all talked about it in roundabout ways...but circumstances kept us from any serious discussion. We felt we couldn't very well leave here with a pregnant woman so for better or worse we waited until the baby was here. Now that the baby's born leaving won't be easy but Scully will be good to travel as soon as she's recovered her strength...and...she's going to have to recover it quickly.

"You're saying we need to leave," I reply. "Yeah," he replies. I sigh. "I've been thinking about it too," I reply. Walter nods and continues. "I think we need to go South before the snow falls. I...I don't want to risk it but...I don't see any other choice." I nod. "South Dakota," I reply. "Yeah...Pierre...even if we can't contact that guy. We at least know there were people there," Walter states. "We need to get on that radio," I advise. "Right. But...I think we need to prepare to leave here by November 15th at the latest...after that we can't count on the weather...I still have those maps we found in the Lodge...and the compass of course...we can use those to navigate to civilization," he finishes. "We need to talk to Scully," I reply. He nods. "Tomorrow," he rumbles.

xXx

Walter holds his son on his shoulder...pats his back while Scully tucks her tit back into her sweater. Zips her coat up. Charles burps lustily and I chuckle a little as Walter wipes his mouth with a Kleenex. "He sounds like you more every day," I quip. Walter rumbles a chuckle as well and tosses the Kleenex away. He holds Charles...or Charlie but never Chuck, just like it would never be Walt...and to be honest...Scully and I don't like Chuck either...out in front of him, and the baby gurgles and smiles and pumps his legs a little in his cobbled together 'onesie'. Walter grins into his face. "Well...don't listen to your Uncle Mulder, big man...just keep belching. You don't want to end up popping Pepcid-AC like your old man," he jokes. I smile and so does Scully. Even with everything we've been through, one thing Walter Skinner hasn't needed since we left the Hoover far behind is an antacid.

"Can you hold him for a few more minutes...I need to find the Ladies Room," Scully replies. "Oh...uh..." Walter wrinkles his brow. I laugh harder. "Both of you? Here...give the poor kid to me. I'll hold him while his parents make like leaky faucets." Walter and Scully both give me the look and then we all laugh and Charlie makes some kind of weird birdlike sound and Walter hands him over. He wiggles in my arms...man the kid's strong, you know. "Be right back," Scully comments. Walter and Scully walk off to find a bush or tree and I slip Charlie into the carrier that hangs over my chest. All of us have papoose pouches for him. Scully came up with that idea and sewed the prototype together before we left. First town we hit on the road though we jury-rigged some soft sided backpacks for the job and they work even better. When one of us tires someone else can play kangaroo. He's a good baby...he never fusses...and even if he did...it wouldn't matter. I really like holding my little nephew close.

It's December 16. We waited a few extra weeks to leave the cabin. We wanted Scully to recover more fully. When the weather stayed unseasonably warm we took the chance it would hold, and so far so good. It's been in the 50s and 60s. So, we left our little home early on December 1. We've only been on the road for a short time, but we're managing. Easy stages. We rest often. The maps tell us where the pockets of civilization are and we've skirted larger towns and anything resembling a city. We've passed through a couple of tiny villages. One...Fort Royale was still pretty much intact. No people...no salvageable vehicles...but usable supplies. Most notably...ammo because they had a gun shop. Our service revolvers are reloaded and we carry them now. Each of us carries a rifle too and we brought the shotgun and extra rifle along as well.

Before we left, we built a travois and that's what Walter and I are hauling...like pack mules...but at least it's on wheels now. Once we left the woods and hit the highway and dirt roads we put the wheels on. Amazing what you can do with a couple of old wheelbarrow wheels, some tarps, poles, screws, bolts and ingenuity. The scavenged supplies from Fort Royale are on the travois along with the shotgun and the ammo for all the weapons. Tent, sleeping bags, warmer clothing, food, water. We wanted to take a Coleman stove but carrying the fuel is dangerous and cumbersome. Reluctantly, we rejected it. Each of us carries a light backpack as well...Scully's the lightest with just our first aid kit and diapers for the baby. The drugstore in Fort Royale was a break. We have a decent medical kit now...even a thermometer and stethoscope. Diapers, baby wipes. Condoms...2 boxes, 12 packs each. I haven't felt a twinge in that area to be honest. I'm not sure any of us are ready to go there. I haven't even thought about rockin' and rollin' with Walter much less Scully. All that's up to her anyway really. At least if we decide to go there we can take precautions now. But...we have other priorities and that's fine.

We want to get to Pierre. We heard a very weak signal from there before we left...the same guy transmitting and even though we could hear him he couldn't hear us. His broadcast lasted about 8 hours, fading in and out, with him trying to contact anyone within range. So...we know they're out there...600 strong now and...God...it sounds like...we can hardly believe it...but...it sounds like mankind is fighting back.

I look down at Charlie and he yawns wide and then shuts his eyes and I think...maybe this is going to be a brand new world, kid. A brave, great new world...and a chance to start over, and he's snoozing, and Walter and Scully come back and we pack up and hit the road again.

xXx

January 1. We crossed over into the old U. S. of A. today. Now I have to admit...it's cold. This is not good. All of us huddle in a grove of pine trees off the road. Scully holds Charlie and he's crying a little. He's cold I know and Scully puts him right in her coat...and he's better, latching onto her nipple for food, warmth and comfort and Walter scratches his bearded chin and says..."Get out the map again." I fumble my backpack off and unzip it. Fish around for the map we're using at this juncture. Take it out. All of us bend over it, even Charlie since he's tucked into Scully's coat.

The landscape is bare...I mean...deserted and quite frankly it's creeping us out...there hasn't been anyone, anywhere. Granted we've avoided towns...only going in when absolutely necessary to gather supplies. We prefer to sweep and salvage farm homesteads or isolated developments which you could expect to lack inhabitants. But...all of them...everywhere? We can't even speculate. Besides...it's nearing dusk and we really do need to find shelter indoors.

"We're close. This is Rugby. It's small. I think we have to risk it," Scully cradles the baby. "I don't think we have a choice," she replies seriously. I nod. "Agreed," I reply and we fall back into the old ways...senses hyped...on high alert...but with a twist. This time... no one is on point. How can we be? It takes two of us to pull the travois and since Charlie is nursing heartily now...one of them can't be Scully. Neither Walter or I is excited about her going on point...and even though she bridles at the idea...she realizes she's Charlie's only really dependable food source. If she were to be...it doesn't even bear consideration really...and I don't want to think about it. So we walk, together...Scully at my side, and Walter and I pull the travois with one hand and hold our Smith and Wessons in the other.

Rugby turns out not to be deserted although we think it is at first. Small village America. Rustic. We walk into the center of town...Main Street. The buildings show something went through here and none too gently. Ruins a lot of it. But...there's a mostly intact service station and convenience store across from the tiny one-story village Post Office, and it's intact too being brick and still locked up tighter than a drum. No tampering with Federal property...I'll tell you that for sure. We have to jimmy the lock. The door'll still shut but not tightly so we'll need a screamer alarm and rags to shove in the crack. No heat, naturally. But crazily, out back...two rusty Weber grills. I could laugh like hell if we weren't so desperate right now. The Shell station across the street renders up enough charcoal briquettes to supply a church picnic and lighter fluid as well as matches and some more of the ubiquitous Bic lighters to add to our stock of those. So, we're going to have heat and a hot meal I guess....I just hope the grills don't smoke too much. Venting could be a problem. We're just tired and cold enough to go for it though.

Unload the travois...take in the supplies for safekeeping. Scully pitches in as best she can but all of us are reluctant to keep Charlie out in the cold so she goes in and sets up the grills in the postage stamp size room behind the service window. We might just be cozy I think as Walter and I go back outside to bring in the last load. That's when I see the dog. "Walter," I whisper and he looks up too. The dog is standing across the street in the parking lot of the Shell station. Not 50 feet away. "Hey...isn't that...isn't that a..." Walter whispers. "Dog..." I breathe out. "I know that..." he hisses...arched eyebrow. "I meant the breed...that's a..." he continues. "Pete," I reply. "What?" he looks at me confused as the dog stares at us. "Pete...from the Our Gang movies. I think it's called an American Staffordshire Terrier," I muse. "Thought so. Fucking...pit bull," Walter blusters, slowly going for his handgun. "Hey...wait," I whisper. "He's just standing there," I add, hissing. "For now. I saw what those can do, Mulder. On a drug bust once. Nearly tore a guy's arm off. You don't want to screw with one," he insists, withdrawing his gun from the holster. I don't know what makes me do it but I reach across and grab his forearm. "No," I admonish him. "There's been enough death," I add quietly. He stares at me for a moment, anger flaring in his eyes but then his arm relaxes. Gun lowers. "All right...but if he shows any aggression whatsoever..." he hisses. "Ok," I nod. We unload the last bundle from the travois and the dog watches us as we do.

Scully holds Charlie on her hip and looks out the window into the dark. "He's still out there," she sighs, looking back at Walter and I where we add more charcoal to the Weber grills. Walter glances at me. "What's he doing?" he asks. "Lying under the service station overhang. He must be cold," she answers, turning away from the window. Walter shuts his eyes for a moment and I chuckle. "She said she wanted a dog, Walter," I tease them both. He opens his eyes and then shoots me the bird. Scully walks over and gives him a little kick in the insulated boot. I get a swift kick as well. "Cut me some slack, ok? I'm hormonal now. I'm entitled to get all...mushy." All three of us laugh. She goes back and sits down on her sleeping bag with the baby. Charlie doesn't have much to say because she sticks her tit in his mouth again.

It's reasonably warm inside and we've eaten dinner - Charlie in process of course. This isn't going to be bad for the night at all. We'll need to take watch shifts but I think we can manage it. The dog is intriguing but...poignant. Just another reminder of what things must have been like here. Someone's family pet left behind and hanging around to watch maybe the first humans he's seen in months. He doesn't seem vicious or anything. We don't have to go outside again until morning because there's a toilet we can use inside here. So, let the fuzzy voyeur look all he wants. Even Walter has reconciled himself to being on 'doggie cam'.

The day catches up with us. We move all the sleeping bags together in preparation for slipping into them. When we do...we'll only take off our boots. Scully changes Charlie's diaper and swabs him down all over with the wet baby wipes we got in the gas station's attached convenience store. Pretty soon the poor kid's going to need another bath. He gets them, but not nearly as regularly as we'd like. We all fret over cleanliness. The baby wipes will help. Walter fishes in his pocket and brings out a surprise. Hershey chocolate bars for all three of us and a little stuffed Pokeman toy for Charlie. The chocolate's a little stale but not bad. Walter holds Charlie on his lap and the kid is fascinated by old Picachu. Scully uses the time to clean her face a little and then she sits between my legs and lies back in my arms where I sit propped up against the wall.

We watch Walter and Charlie and if anyone ever doubted that Walter S. Skinner is really a big softy they should see him now. Also...if there was any doubt that Charles is his son...they should see him now too. Spitting image. Oh there's something of Scully there too...around the mouth especially...and his lighter skin and freckles say Scully as well. But the rest...says Walter. Yup...Skinner's a dominate sire all right. I smile and Scully asks me what I'm thinking and I tell her...how happy I am even with everything that's happened to have the three of them. She reaches up and brushes my bangs out of my eyes, smiling. I bend down and kiss her gently on the lips. We settle back then and Walter hands the baby to Scully because he's getting sleepy. She cuddles him against her. "I'll take the first watch. Get some sleep," he tells us and we nod and lie down together in the sleeping bags...Charlie in with Scully. I pull them close, the baby on his back between us. We shut our eyes and wait for sleep. I hear Walter add some more charcoal to the grills.

"Mulder...get up...it's your watch," Walter hisses and I come awake instantly but don't jerk. Scully and Charlie are sound asleep right next to me. I nod and gingerly move away and then out of my sleeping bag. I grit my teeth. Christ...I've got a massive hard-on. Must have been a good dream. Either that or the close proximity of Scully. I sigh. Well...I guess my body has a slightly different priority. I follow Walter out of the service area, my gun slung over my shoulder, and out into the miniscule lobby. "Everything's clear. Not a peep for hours. The dog went and came back. Other than that...nada. Quiet," he informs me. We stand by the bank of mailboxes. It's fairly warm out here even with the rags in the door. This building must be well insulated. I shift from foot to foot though, trying to rearrange my dick without being obvious about it. Walter notices however, eyebrow goes up. I glance down, can't help it and then so does he. Small sigh. "You going to be able to concentrate or you want to take care of that so you can?" he asks sympathetically.

I redden slightly. "Shit...you know...I've been pretty good up until tonight...I...I guess...being that close to her and all..." I shrug. "I hear you. It happens," he nods. Slings his gun back over his shoulder, looks away. Clears his throat. "Uh...I could..." he begins. I shake my head. "No...I'll be ok." As much as I want him to touch me I'm half afraid that if he jerks me off I'll get sleepy. "I'm afraid it'll wear me out," I grin a little. He smiles back. "All right," he nods and starts to move away. Then...something obviously occurs to him and he turns back. "Wake her up this time, Mulder. No more pulling that double shift shit," he advises quietly. I raise a hand. "No worries. I know. I learned my lesson from that reaming she gave me last time." He grins and nods. "Thought so. Later," and then he's gone as I chuckle and unsling my rifle.

xXx

In the morning the dog is still there and Scully is outside tossing him some scraps of Spam from an early morning snack she fixed herself. I find her just outside the post office door, and the dog closer, in the street. "Walter's going to go ballistic if he sees you feeding Pete," I whisper, coming up behind her. I can't hug her because her rifle is slung over her back. "'I' didn't name him," she retorts and we both chuckle. The last scrap gets tossed and Pete lopes back across the street under the Service station overhang. "He's just afraid...I don't think he's vicious," she suggests as we stand there in the cold. It's not quite as cold though which I'm thankful to see. I observe the dog and notice he's not in very bad shape. He must have belonged to someone. He has a leather collar on but no tags. He must have a food source somewhere too or his ribs would be showing. "He looks like he's doing ok for himself. He'll be all right," I reply quietly. She looks at me, nods and then we hear Charlie crying inside. "I guess someone else wants his breakfast," she laughs gently. I smile and in a reflexive gesture move to place my hand in the small of her back to usher her inside, but I bump her rifle instead and give her a rueful grin and she looks at me tenderly. "I love you, Mulder...more and more...every day..." she murmurs. "I love you too, Scully...more than ever too," and she looks down shyly and proceeds me through the door.

The dog follows us out of Rugby. Walter is pissed as hell. The mutt stays well back, though and after a while we cease to notice him. He doesn't come close, just seems to be content to pad along...watching as the four of us haul down the road. Man...I wish we could find transportation. But so many of the vehicles are gone or wrecked or without gas or if they've got full tanks we can't even hot-wire them for some reason...yes...Walter S. Skinner knows how to hot-wire a car. But...I suspect somewhere along the line there was a lot larger EMP pulse unleashed on the world...or at least over this part of the US because none of the machinery we come across functions at all.

So, progress is slow and we stop often to allow us all to rest and feed the baby in relative peace and we even get to bathe him several times. He's always got a clean diaper and we're continually scavenging for baby wipes and Huggies or Pampers. We're lucky, he's hearty, healthy and surprisingly happy in this weird life he's leading.

A couple of times when we stop for the night and Walter has watch, I touch Scully, kiss her a little and it's obvious she's not ready for it, and I have terrible guilt. Walter hasn't touched her sexually. I ask him and he says...no...the vibes he's gotten said it wasn't a good idea and I also get the idea he's not ready himself either. I chide myself again for being an unobservant 'wanker'. But Scully is sorry too and she tries to explain...the baby...the stress...I know it's fear too...and I feel like an utter shit. Walter tells me to cut the crap...I love her and she loves me...it's just circumstances and I nod, and we all move on.

When we near Bismark, North Dakota, we get what may be the explanation for the monkey wrenched machinery. Blast crater...a fucking huge one. We all wonder if this was the ship we saw...crash landed this far away? Hard to say. Leery of radiation we make a wide detour but the thing is so huge we see the damage caused by it for miles away anyway. Walter pulls out the binoculars we picked up in the gun shop in Fort Royale. We take a look at the crash site from a distance. Grim...devastation. We have to think Bismark itself is totally destroyed. We move on...silent...even Charlie not making a sound and Pete pads after us like a shadowy testament to what was and will never be again.

The days pass again...stretch into weeks and...our progress is slow but steady. The snow holds off which for us is Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled into one since we can't really celebrate them on the road. We have enough to eat and drink and the ammo is dry and we're thankful for those things too. Charlie's first Christmas eve is spent in his dad's papoose pouch listening to him sing "Silent Night" to keep our spirits up because God...he has a terrible voice, and Scully and I laugh really hard at him, as we try to find shelter somewhere before silent night becomes a grotesquely appropriate joke. Nightfall finds us in an old dairy barn and since the floor is concrete we risk a fire for a while...it helps but...it's friggin' cold as Walter would say since he doesn't like to curse in front of the kid. We actually set up the four man tent inside the barn, laying hay out under it for insulation, and Scully piles into the tent with Charlie and they're all wrapped up in sleeping bags, and Walter and I pile bales of hay around the tent for insulation too. For the first time...Pete the dog comes close...into the barn and I throw down some hay and an old cow blanket we find in the milk tank room. He makes a nest in the hay and blanket in a corner of the barn.

We talk about setting up watches but...it's just bloody freezing. Walter eyes the dog, totally covered in the hay, and blanket, only his brindle nose sticking out. "You know...I have a feeling if anyone came in this barn..." and Scully sticks her head out of the tent and smiles..."Mulder...that case with Karin Berquist..." she begins and I finish the leap of logic for her. "Yeah...I think we're his pack now. He's on guard. Set a few screamers on the barn doors. Let's...let's all get in and get warm. I think...I think we'll fucking freeze our asses off out here if we stand guard." We douse the fire and turn on our flashlights.

Inside the tent, with the door zipped it's tolerable. We're tired but we talk...try to keep that connection as human beings...that wonderful freedom we had together in Canada. Christmas memories of days past. Walter and Scully comparing stories about how they used to try to sneak peeks at their gifts. Walter telling about the time he dressed up as Santa Claus for a homeless shelter in DC... something we never knew he'd done, and the little boy at the shelter who got so scared of him he pissed in his lap. And Scully telling about the Christmas her father was at sea and arranged leave to be there with them, and how they were all surprised because he jumped out on Christmas day and scared the hell out of Margaret Scully...and I smile and laugh and listen and...don't really have any Christmas memories before Sam was gone that are pain free to relate and after her abduction...well...we didn't really celebrate Christmas much anyway.

And Charlie takes it all in, wide-eyed with wonder as I dangle that stupid Picachu toy over his head...he never grows tired of it...and he gurgles, and smiles, and we quietly sing Christmas carols for him, and before he falls asleep Scully tells the story about all the animals standing up and talking and adds Pete the watchdog to the manger. And...later...Scully and Charlie are fast asleep and they're rolled a little to the side and I finally admit to Walter I have another raging hard-on. "God...what the hell is wrong with me?" I ask him. He holds me close and tells me it's just my body trying to remind me what being alive is partly about, and we unzip our sleeping bags and move them together and he makes love to me slowly, quietly, fully dressed except for my cock and balls which he liberates from my jeans and long underwear.

He pulls the sleeping bags back...hovers over my straining erection and then, works his mouth down over me right down to my nuts. I stroke his head as he sucks and licks and runs his tongue around the head of my cock. "I love you," I whisper as I gently thrust my hips into his face. And he smiles up at me and then his mouth sucks down, and up, and down, and up and...I feel his hand take mine and I squeeze it tight and bite off the hoarse yell that's just at the tip of my tongue as I spasm and shoot down his throat. He doesn't gag at all, swallows everything I have to give and then licks me clean afterwards. Zips me up and then holds me close for a few moments again and I ask hushed, "What about you?" and I feel between us and he's not hard and I stare into his eyes. "I haven't been hard since we hit the road," he whispers. "It's just...circumstances I guess," and I take him in my arms and mumble words of love that I never thought I'd say to another man in my wildest imaginings. Then we both spoon together, and I pull Scully and Charlie close and I sleep as peacefully as the baby does.

By mid January it's snowing but only lightly, and we looked on it as a good sign because at least it isn't 40 below, and we were so close to Pierre and anticipatory, and excited, and we haven't seen anyone yet but that's not making us overly worried, and Pete the dog was still with us watching over us at night and then...we nearly lost it all.

xXx

The outskirts of Mint, South Dakota. Another farmhouse, two stories and we thought...man we had it made. Intact. Pot-bellied stove. Lots of wood...well pump...still some canned goods. Very much like that farmhouse in Canada and the cabin too. We unload the travois...crank up the pot-bellied stove and since the bathroom is right off the kitchen it's nice and warm. We set the screamer alarms and then...we all take baths and it's fantastic. I go first so I can get dinner ready and then Walter and Scully take Charlie and all three of them get into the tub of heated water.

It took us a long time to get those buckets of hot water to fill the tub but seeing them together in there...yeah...like a family...was more than worth it. The scene touches me so much and I leave them laughing and cuddling the baby to hide the fact that tears are leaking down my cheeks. I busy myself with dinner...opening cans of salmon, corn and sweet potatoes and putting them on the pot-bellied stove to cook. I even find some cans of Pedigree dog food in a cupboard and take what was most certainly the family dog's dish from the floor of the kitchen, wash it and dump a couple of cans in it. Sure enough when I go out the back door, Pete is sitting at the bottom of the back steps. I proffer the bowl and he cocks his head and sniffs but won't come any closer. I shrug, "Have it your way, 'furball'," I drawl in imitation of Han Solo. I put the bowl down and go back in the house.

After dinner Scully puts Charlie down for the night on a sleeping bag laid out in the living room. By now the downstairs is really warm from the stove. So, Charlie gets only a light blanket as he's placed, clean, diapered with Pampers we found in a closet and tummy full, on his improvised bed. He gives a mighty yawn and falls asleep in no time flat. I take a look out the back door and the bowl of dog food is empty. Pete isn't there but I expect he's around. Sure enough, just as I'm closing the door he comes around the side of the barn and lifts his leg, pissing a bucket on the red paint. He pads into the barn through the half open door...out of the elements. I chuckle and lock us down for the night.

We end up in the living room, talking, me in a chair and Scully and Walter on the couch all of us in our long johns and I can see Walter trying to shift to cover the rather noticeable tent in his lap, and I can't help but smile. So...things are waking up I guess. Scully notices too and I see for the first time something approaching interest there as well. And she shifts over and he puts his arm around her shoulders and absentmindedly strokes her bicep as we talk about whether we should stay here a couple of days and finally I clear my throat. "Uh...look," I begin. "I'm not going to mind if you two want to...turn in. I mean...it's ok, really...go on upstairs to bed. I can keep an eye on Charlie." Scully looks down, reddening a little and Walter coughs and gives me a rueful look. "Seriously...I...I'm a little too tired to even consider it...go on...enjoy yourselves," I prompt. For a moment I feel like Dr. Ruth and Dear Abby all rolled into one but I know this is right because they both need it, and seem to want it, and...I remember what Walter did for me that night in the cow barn and it's only fair. Scully looks up and I see the worry in her eyes. She thinks I'll feel neglected. "Don't forget the Trojans," I add quietly and she gives me a small gentle smile and Walter gets up and takes her hand. The look in his eyes when he passes me on the way out of the living room with Scully makes my gesture completely worth it.

So I find a paperback on top of the TV...'The Firm' and I haven't read it actually...or seen the movie, so I lay down on the sleeping bag on my stomach next to the sleeping Charlie and start to read. It isn't long before I hear soft, high pitched and low, basso profoundo moans coming from upstairs and it's pretty obvious that Charlie's Mom and Dad are indeed enjoying themselves. Some murmuring...some soft squeaking of the mattress, and I hear Scully's whining cry, and I know Walter's making her come. Things are quiet for a little bit and I get some of the book read and then Scully giggles and Walter laughs and then there's more moaning, and movement, and then...Christ...she's coming again. Damn...you know...Walter is a good lover. I shake my head and grin because yeah...I know only too well.

I'm trying to concentrate on 'The Firm' but I finally give up and lie on my back, my hands behind my head while the action progresses above me. Oddly enough...I don't get hard. Maybe I am too tired or just...the stress or the idea too that...Walter has a connection with Scully now that I don't have with her...may never have with her...and that's the little life dozing on his back, next to my armpit. It makes me somewhat sad at the same time that I revel in the fact that I'm helping to raise their son and I know both Walter and Scully love me very much.

So I listen and smile as the bed starts to really squeak and I hear Scully telling Walter..."Oh God you're so hard, so good, oh, oh..." and Walter growling low and rough, telling her, "Beautiful, you're so beautiful," and then fast squeaking and then raw words as they urge each other on. "Oh fuck yeah. Move. Yeah. Just...like...that," Walter pants and Scully moans. "Uhhhh...fuck me," and then finally the bed thuds several times and Walter's guttural roar tells me that's all she wrote. It doesn't sound like Scully comes again but I know it doesn't matter. I can hear her breathy murmur, "I love you, Walter," and his voice a little louder. "I thank God for this, Scully. I love you so much," and I know they're going to sleep up there so I check the perimeter screamers one more time. Say good night to Pete even though I know he's in the barn and can't hear me. Then I go in and cuddle close to Charlie, pulling a sleeping bag over us both.

During the night, Scully comes down and I feel her take Charlie up and I roll over and she's sitting on the couch, her breast bare, feeding him. I get up and sit down next to her. She smiles shyly at me and I grin. "It sounded like Walter rose to the occasion," I tease. "Oh yes...he certainly did," she replies, trying to suppress her grin and finally giving up and smiling. We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes while Charlie sucks and kneads at Scully's tit.

Then she looks at me again and leans into me a little. I reach up and brush the hair from her face. It's gotten long...but it still looks like burnished copper and feels wonderfully soft. I drop my hand and she speaks. "Mulder...I'm sorry...I...I didn't mean to make you feel..." I shush her immediately. "Hey...hey...it's all right. Really. The two of you...you deserved a night together. I was perfectly happy to babysit." She nuzzles my cheek and I kiss into her hair. "Well...next time, it's your turn," she whispers and I know for certain from the look in her eyes that it will be and I can wait.

I look down at Charlie then and so does she. I chuckle. "There's no doubt this is Walter's son...you know that don't you?" I whisper. She nods. "I know...I knew from the night you drew our attention to his eyes. Besides...I did the math too. I calculated the conception date and that day Walter and I celebrated his recovery made logical sense," she states matter-of-factly. "But, Mulder...it doesn't matter. You know he's as much your son as ours, right?" she adds softly. I smile wide and nod because you know...it's true. She finishes up giving the little guy his meal and then tells me, "I'll stay here. I told Walter I needed to feed him so he set his wristwatch alarm. He'll know I'm down here." I chuckle. "Still playing AD and Agent Scully," I tease and she pokes me and then laughs. Charlie falls back to sleep and Scully and I crawl under the sleeping bags and fall asleep too, spooned together, the baby cradled next to Scully's stomach.

In the morning Walter's up early and rousts us all for breakfast. When I walk into the kitchen I notice the used condom in the brown paper shopping bag we're using for trash. I nod...good. It's snowing a little but there's promise of clear skies to the West. Not a bad morning. We decide to stay on another day. We make breakfast. Canned peaches, baked spam and since we found some flour and evaporated milk that was still good, a really special treat...pancakes...well sort of, but they taste great. No sign of Pete, but I put another can of Pedigree out for him, and then Walter and Scully and I gather around the table, and Scully has Charlie at her breast, and Walter's bringing the pancakes over and suddenly the screamer alarms start going off and Charlie starts to shriek because he's scared shitless, and Walter drops the pancakes on the floor, and goes for his Smith and Wesson where it sits on the counter, and all hell breaks loose.

Four armed men kick in the back and front doors, and surround us, and I can't get to my gun or my rifle where they sit in the living room on the coffee table, and I'm cursing myself for being so lax, and Scully's holding the baby close, his head pressed into her breast, and Walter almost makes it to his gun, but one of the men slams him hard in the gut with his rifle butt and he goes down. Scully...looking like she wants to scream, but going into professional mode...years of training coming to the fore...covers the gun stuffed in her jeans waist, and under her sweater, with her son's body. Her eyes wide, she raises one hand in the air in surrender, and I raise both of mine because the tallest man is yelling for us to "get 'em up, get 'em up high!"

Walter curled up around his stomach, gasping, we all stand in tableau. I'm almost hyperventilating, and then I feel a strange calm come over me, and I feel the old training come back as well and I breathe steadily to compose myself. In a matter of seconds my mind races to assess the situation.

Military issue rifles...three guys are wearing insulted vests over worn fatigue jackets...National Guard. Two are grunts though. One blonde...one guy with a shaved head. They're 22 to 25 maybe. Ciphers really...waiting and watching for input. One guy is really young...maybe 16 and he's wearing a snowmobile suit. He's obviously not Guard...and he's scared to death. The other guy is older...30s...definitely National Guard and the stripes say...Sergeant...and that's the leader. Hard, mean, muscular and...I can see it in his eyes...this guy is trouble. Cold air comes in the back door where they kicked it open. Scully pulls Charlie closer still against the cold.

"We've got 'em up," I reply...calm and conciliatory. "We don't want any trouble...there's a baby here," I add in case they didn't notice Charlie crying his head off over the screamer alarms. Abruptly the screamers cease shrieking...but we can all still hear Charlie loud and clear.

"Shut the kid up," the leader spits out and I hear Walter growl low around his pain.

Scully slowly lowers her hand and gets a better grip on Charlie...hiding the gun better in the process and rubs his back. That seems to satisfy the leader as Charlie's cries subside to whimpers.

One of the other guys...the tall skinny guy with blonde hair waves his rifle at Walter.

"Get up old man. Get in a chair."

Walter looks up with anger and hate in his eyes, and I give him a warning look, and he lets his face fall into that AD mask we all know so well, and he gets up off the floor with difficulty. Shaved head takes Walter's gun off the counter and shoves it in his jeans. Walter makes it into the chair across from me and sits down, readjusts his glasses, raises his hands. His chest pumps up and down as he works to push down the gut ache.

"Just sit there. We want your supplies..." the leader grates out.

"Take them...just take them and go," Walter rasps out.

The leader looks at him for a second...assessing...then he barks to his companions, his rifle still trained on us. "Strip the place," he orders. Blondie and Shaved Head nod and sling their rifles over their backs. They move first to our travois supplies where they're stacked in a corner. The kid stands there...hesitating. "What're you waiting for?" the leader asks, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Gheez...Jack..." the kid begins. "Shut your cake hole you idiot. I said no names!" The kid goes beet red but shows some moxie. "I was just going to say we should at least leave 'em their fucking weapons, man...they'll need...I mean Christ...they got a kid to feed," he blurts out, his voice shaking.

The leader's jaw muscle jumps and I hold my breath. I can see Walter's eyes and he's trying to gauge if he can take the leader at all and realizing he couldn't do it before he got a shot off, and Scully is debating if she should say something or prepare for one of us to make a move, and just throw herself over the baby, and then the leader speaks and I let my breath out in relief. "Yeah...leave the guns...but hide 'em in the barn, that should give us time to get away. You guys hear me?" he says, tersely. "You got it," Blondie replies and they go about their business of robbing us of our worldly goods. The kid turns then and I see a look in his eyes directed at Scully, and I know she sees it too...compassion...and then he slings his rifle over his shoulder and goes to root through the cupboards. Walter continues to track them all with his eyes...observing...calculating...and so does Scully.

The leader stays right by our side...watching...looking...at me...at Walter...at Charlie and...especially at Scully. Scully stares back at him...as calmly as she can but I know she can see what's in the guy's eyes and...I seek to distract him. "Where did you guys come from?" I ask. The leader's head swivels to me. "None of your fucking business." O-K I think. "We thought you might have come from Pierre...we heard there were people in Pierre," I reply. The kid pipes up without thinking. "Pierre, yeah...we..." he begins. "Shut up...Rod-ney," The leader hisses viciously...and I know him for what he is then...a vindictive, half-crazy bastard because now we know the kid's name too. I look at the kid and try to smile at his red, sweating face. "It's ok, Rodney...we pretty much knew there were people down there..." and the leader waves his rifle at me...cold eyes. "No more talking unless I ask the questions, asshole"...and I look into his eyes and incline my head to placate him. His eyes wander back to Scully. He looks at Charlie, flicker of interest. Looks from Charlie to Walter, back to Charlie and then focuses on Walter.

"That baby yours, baldy?" The other three men continue to collect our supplies, noisy clattering of booted feet, but Scully and I ignore it all and their conversation as we focus on Walter. Walter's jaw is so tight you could bounce a quarter off it and his eyes are hooded he's so pissed off. He swallows. "None of your fucking business," and I cringe. Christ, Walter...I know they taught you better than that at the Academy. But I know this isn't completely AD Skinner sitting there. This is Walter, Charlie's dad and yeah...Scully's husband for all intents and purposes, and...he's in pain, and afraid even though he's not showing it but...it's coming through now.

Luckily...or unluckily depending on whether you consider what I know is going to come eventually...the leader chuckles. At least he doesn't just shoot Walter. "I don't suppose it is...but...I was just curious as to how a bald, four-eyed old fuck like you got a good looking broad like her to spread her legs...much less knock her up. I mean...anyone else would have given her a better ride I bet. Even Jew boy over here would have been a more likely candidate to show the little lady a good time." I wince and I see Scully shudder, the anger plain on her face. The leader is watching Walter closely, waiting for his answer.

Walter's face goes crimson. He swallows hard. I watch him struggle for control and I hope beyond hope that he masters himself and says the thing I know he should to buy us some more time. When he finally speaks, I know I'm holding my breath again. "Yes, the baby's my son. Please...please don't hurt him or...his mother," he murmurs, his voice quiet and strained. Mother...not wife. There are no wedding rings. The guy would have noticed I know...and it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway because I know what he wants to do, and has wanted to do since he saw Scully sitting in that chair...all the crap about leaving us our weapons notwithstanding. He's just been looking for an excuse to get Walter at least out of the way...either dead or lying with a cracked head on the floor so he could proceed with business. But this was as good an answer as Walter could have given and I see... flicker of doubt, of hesitation in the leader's eyes and I let out my breath...and the leader answers.

"Mother...but not wife, yeah I noticed...no rings. Fuck...whaddya know," he chuckles. "I'll bear that in mind," he finishes with a feral look at Scully. And then he goes back to standing there with his rifle trained on us...looking at me mostly and I know we all know what's going to happen here before he leaves. He'll rape Scully...probably in front of Walter...maybe in front of me too...maybe get the other guys to rape her as well, and then get rid of Walter, and me, and Scully and Charlie...the witnesses because he's not taking any chances we'll come after him. Christ...I know it as sure as I know I'm going to stop him even if I die doing it. And I can see it in Walter's eyes too, and in Scully's...I can see it in Scully's...whatever it takes to save us...whatever it takes to save our son.

Eerie silence and then I think...it suddenly occurs to me...Jesus...no sound...no sound of...Pete...oh man they must have killed the dog. And then finally Shaved Head comes back in from carrying out the last load...where the hell are they putting all this stuff...we didn't hear an engine and it has to be the travois and then..."That's it, except for the guns, man," he advises looking at Jack. Blondie and Rodney come back in too, guns slung over their backs, and they all stand there staring at Jack man, and Jack lowers his rifle a little and looks from Scully to Walter and then looks up and licks his lips.

"Good. Ok...look...Rodney,"...the name again this time used without inflection of any kind..."you and Pete,"...head gesture towards Blondie..."take their guns out to the barn...Greg,"...chin goes up to the shaved one..."you stay in here...help me watch these folks," he orders in a soft, tense voice and when he says the names the three guys glance at each other and they know, and I know...I know we're dead unless we can do something to stop them.

"Whatever you say, boss," Pete responds and Rodney swallows hard. "Say...uh...Jack...why don't I..." he begins. "Why don't you shut the fuck up and do as you're told," Jack spits out. They all stand there. "Move!" he shouts and they do. Rounding up the weapons, Rodney and Pete go out the back door.

Jack shifts...walks over to stand by Scully. "I guess you know what I want..." he murmurs into her face. I see Walter turn crimson again and I shoot another desperate warning look at him. "Watch her boyfriend and the Jew boy," he orders Greg. Greg trains his rifle on Walter and me and I watch Walter coil...coil...like a spring...and I know it's only a matter of moments before he snaps. "Do your job and I'll let you have sloppy seconds," he adds, smirking at Scully. Scully looks at him...proud, unafraid and utterly defiant. He falters slightly at the lack of fear in her eyes. And when she speaks it's in a voice that matches the look in her eyes. "I know I can't stop you but...I'll make a deal with you. If you...if you leave these men and my son unharmed...I'll...I'll make sure you enjoy it. I'll...I'll even go with you so you can enjoy it as much as you want. Just don't...harm them," she finishes and I shut my eyes.

Before Jack the Leader can answer, Rodney and Pete come back in. Pete cuffs the kid in the back of the head, looks at Jack with apology in his eyes. "Sorry...asshole here forgot the shotgun," he comments. Jack's attention is drawn to them. "Get it and get out...both of you," he orders. And they head to the living room to get the shotgun. Jack curls his lips up in contempt and Greg curls his lip up in contempt...at Rodney. Greg and Jack...I see it...the resemblance. I would bet they're related...brothers maybe. Shit...let's keep it all in the family shall we? My stomach flips and I start to steel myself for what I know I have to do.

Rodney and Pete return, Pete carrying the shotgun, and the frightened Rodney bringing up the rear, and I watch them as they head towards the half open kitchen door, and I'm thinking...I can take the kid, I can take the kid, and then...it all happens so fast and...I wondered what the fuck happened to that dog...thought Pete was dead, but Jesus...he wasn't. Growling, snarling mass of dog meat muscle, flashing teeth, scrabbling claws all over man Pete, and he screams loud and high like a woman as the dog grabs his crotch and starts to latch on where it could only hurt the most, and...grinding down until his jaws lock, and...the shotgun goes flying and my God, my God no one is moving and then...

Rodney screams, "PETE! PETE!" And I think shit, same name as the dog, and Greg dashes forward, rifle up but the kid has his rifle slung forward as Greg gets between him and the roiling mess of 'mandog' and flying blood, and BLAM! BLAM! two shots fired and Greg screams, "MUTHERFUCK YOU SHOT ME, YOU..." and down he goes and...

I throw myself to the side, on top of Scully because Jack's shooting...and...Shit shit shit shit...I repeat over and over and we crash in a heap...Charlie under us and the baby is shrieking...shrieking, and not a sound out of Scully because she's trying to hold the kid, and grab for her gun where it flew out of her jeans at the same time, and I'm clawing at her piece too and then we hear a BAAABOOOM! loud in our ears. Fucking shotgun. Oh...God...please....

And I come up with Scully's gun in my hand and there's Walter standing with the shotgun against his hip, blood spattered all over him from point blank shot that took out most of Jack's chest, and Jack lying against the cabinets under the sink, dead, his rifle in his hands and the dog Pete rolling around, growling, gnashing, tearing at the semi-conscious man Pete and the kid, Rodney...in my sights, his hands up crying over, and over, "DON'T KILL ME! DON'T KILL ME!"

And I look in his eyes and his eyes are pleading and I lower my gun. "Get the fuck out," I tell him, slumping slightly and he turns and runs for the front door, never looking back. Scully gets up and I move to her side immediately...start touching her here, there, the baby next...and "Are you all right...is Charlie all right?" and Scully is nodding and the baby is quiet now...taking it in and even smiling a little as Scully rubs his back...and then she looks past me at...Walter.

I turn and track his movements and it's like a dream...Walter walks to the dead Greg, retrieves his Smith and Wesson from the guy's pants...walks over to where brindle dog Pete is still worrying blonde man Pete's thigh. I watch the arterial blood spurt bright red...closer...closer...Walter makes a grab...takes the dog hard by the collar and Scully...Scully cries out, "Walter no! He saved our lives!" and...Walter doesn't hesitate. He pulls the dog back...tells him to sit and incredibly he does, and then Walter puts the Smith and Wesson against groaning man Pete's head, and BLAM! BLAM! the report is loud in the now quiet kitchen. Revenge? Mercy killing maybe more likely. Either way...good riddance. Walter drops the shotgun and the Smith and Wesson on the kitchen table, walks over to us and...we walk into his arms and he hugs us both tight. Pete sits and watches...his tongue lolling out...bloody froth on his jaws as we embrace...Charlie cooing musically between us.

xXx

Pierre, South Dakota. We're looking down on Pierre, South Dakota...and it's in ruins. The disappointment is so heavy you can almost cut it with a knife. Since Mint all of us have been in a daze I think. Just putting one foot in front of the other. Something...we lost something in Mint. The only one of us who seems unfazed is Charlie and for his sake we push on...and try to stay positive. But now...Walter puts the binoculars away and we sit down on the crest of the ridge overlooking the highway and...Scully bundles Charlie close where she has him in her coat for warmth. I watch her reach in and shift to place her nipple in the baby's mouth. Charlie comfort...and Scully comfort too really. He sucks eagerly. Walter and I sit in silence, in the snow.

We have all our supplies...even some more we scavenged on the way...we have the travois...the weapons...more ammo...we even have Pete the dog. We just don't know where to go. Walter shrugs and speaks, "We could continue South. It'd be warmer...hell...we could even go West. Warm and dry," he suggests. "Yeah...I always wanted to retire to a place with dry heat," I quip trying to lighten the mood. "Yes...please let's not go to Florida where it's hot and humid...I heard the bugs are terrible there," Scully adds teasing and we all chuckle a little.

I look over at Pete...in all his brindle AmStaff glory where he sits nearby. The hero. He still won't come near us...that one day in Mint was an exception I guess. He's been back on sentry duty however. Our nights are peaceful at least. "Hey, Pete," I address him. "Where would you like to go?" I ask his furry face. And then we watch...transfixed as Pete cocks his head, once, twice and then gets up and slowly, very slowly pads over to us. "Mulder..." Walter hisses in warning as the terrier approaches me. He comes in close and I stretch out my hand....fist closed in case he wants to take a bite...but he pushes his head up under my hand and wags his tail...sits...barks once and then....///Mulder....Fox Mulder...Pete wants to go to Pierre. Over/// and we stare in utter shock.

"What in God's name?" Scully blurts out and Walter's mouth drops open. /// Scully!!! Scully!!!/// excited tiny tinny voice. I grab the dog's collar and look closely...mini speaker...has to be a mini microphone too and...the voice comes again...///Thank God...it's working again...Mulder...is that you?/// and I know who it...God...oh for crying out loud..."FROHIKE!?" I shout into the dog collar like a total fool and Walter says, "What?"...and Scully starts to laugh...half crazy laughter with the stress and..."Is this some kind of sick joke?" she blurts out, and the dog cocks his head and leaves me and goes over to Scully, and the voice comes out of the collar again...///"Would I ever joke about my undying worship of that vision of loveliness named Agent Dana Scully?"/// and then Scully laughs with delight and I think...holy shit...it's just like a whacked out version of that Christmas Eve story about the animals talking in the manger, and Walter grabs the dog by the collar, and shouts into the microphone, his eyes dancing...laughing too. "Frohike...where are you, you damn troll?" and Frohike's tinny laughter is like music to our ears. ///"I'm down in Pierre...we're all down in Pierre...we went underground, my man...in a big way...just...come on down...we're sending an escort...look for Byers...on horseback. We...we have a lot to tell you."/// "No shit," I yell...laughing my ass off as Pete gives us all a huge, slobbery doggie grin.

xXx

EPILOGUE

Eighteen months later...

The irony of our story is...we missed the war. I had a lot of guilt at first built up over the idea that by fleeing and not staying to fight the good fight I somehow...what...shirked my duty as the great Fox Mulder? Spooky Mulder the guy who spent half his career chasing the truth...trying to prevent what happened only to run from it when it did? Fuck it. Scully and Walter said we maybe missed the war but we fought the battle...the battle for survival and the safety of those we love in the hopes we could carry on. And we still fight that fight even now...here in South Dakota...the fight to reclaim what's ours...the planet Earth and the good things we used to have here.

And really...there wasn't any choice, and in the long run no one knew what they were going to be able to do when the grays landed...or that the resistance to them was what it really turned out to be in the end.

Not even the guys. Frohike, Byers and Langly. They ran too...the only reason they didn't run away from the battle was because after my phone call they got a phone call from Suzanne Modeski...before all the phones went dead. Suzanne Modeski...now Suzanne Byers. Oh yeah...she remembered John Byers all right. And when C-Day...C for colonization...came the call went out for the Lone Gunmen. Come to Pierre, South Dakota...we've underground, quite literally here and we're mounting the real plan to combat the invasion. They had no idea...but Suzanne did, and she remembered their expertise and that, and her love for Byers, made her send for them.

Underground bunkers, teams of scientists and a few key players from that other alien race we had an inkling were trying to help us but never were really sure about their motivations...the Jeremiah Smith side of the equation. The last members of a dying race they'd really only wanted one thing...to co-exist if they could. They should have just asked the right people maybe? Whatever...in any event...they were all but exterminated in the first assault...a few of them...still stayed on and with the help of one of the biggest surprises of all...Alex Krycek...were the architects of human survival.

Krycek. He stayed above ground...spying...gathering information...sent most of the Jeremiah Smiths ahead to South Dakota with instructions to communicate over a specially scrambled channel on stolen alien communication devices. They had the key...almost...the means to create a virus that was deadly to the grays...to create it from blood by-products from a woman he and the one Jeremiah Smith that wouldn't leave his side were trying desperately to liberate from a holding facility in Stone Mountain, Georgia. The Jeremiah Smith made it back with Marita Covarrubias and Alex Krycek died laying down covering fire for their escape. So, Krycek...no matter what his motives...died a hero. And I'll never find out why he did the things he did to us before...and I'll never be able to give him another chance either.

The grays herded mankind South...away from the cold. Those they didn't want to use, they just killed outright. Most were taken off planet. It's amazing how fast it all happened. Huge transport ships. Scully and I had seen one in Antarctica of course. We'd seen a few of them in our travels North after July 4th. We'd heard enough from fleeing people to know the gist of what was happening. The upshot...most of the world's population is dead or gone or living in isolated areas in South America in the rain forests or Australia...Africa...anywhere it's warmer...few and far between and no real communication except some short-wave radios. So much communication was shut down by the human collaborators...EMP blasts took care of a lot of the rest...and the resistance in their network of underground bunkers all over the world...worked to construct the virus...and other things.

There's a lot of interesting ET technology floating around in the brave new world. Some of it has been salvaged from downed ships. We have to be careful of some of it...whatever it is that produces the psi-factor in susceptible humans is difficult to work with in the extreme. But we're managing. We're starting to develop things...like fusion as an energy source as well as anti-gravity power...just the embryonic in-roads but everyone foresees great things to come in time. And the Jeremiah Smiths contributed things as well.

The 'Petes'...the name has become generic now...were created for one. Yeah...the dogs are dogs...but more than dogs really. Something the Jeremiah Smiths came up with but ended up not quite operating correctly because it was built to control something a lot more alien than the family pet. A chip that hyped the dog's senses, helped them hunt and survive in the wild better, track and locate people better, encouraged them to guard, to protect people, places, things. The chip also controlled them better to a degree...made them learn and understand more commands and hear and heed their master's voices at any distance. Anytime someone brought in a dog...it was chipped and put to work somehow. Langly and his team came up with the collars for two way transmission over great distances...in theory. The only problem was...the hardware was twonky at first. The prototype dogs...of which our Pete was one didn't always do the job. Oh, they were good close up on sentry duty and search and rescue, but long distance...they were problematical. Half the time they didn't work and the collar communication system was always failing too. Now of course, they've been perfected...even adding tiny video cameras where needed in the dog's collars. The dogs, besides still being essentially man's best friend and great companions...are now also valuable helpmates. Almost everyone has a Pete on the homestead. And yes, we still have our original prototype Pete and he does the job fine enough for us.

But it was Frohike's idea to have them encoded to find certain people. Encoded and then dropped off and later tracked and picked so they could search for those missing amongst them...me...Scully and yes...Skinner and...the Cigarette Smoking bastard if they could. That was the part that did work thanks to the Jeremiah Smiths. They had all the smallpox vaccination information, stolen from the grays after all. The dogs were somehow capable of picking up on it. So...when Pete caught up with us in Rugby...well...it's lucky the technology worked as well as it did. None of the Petes ever found Smokey Spender however. We keep hoping. I have a few choice words to say to that bastard...and Walter has some too.

They finally came up with the virus. Caught a gray...tested it and when it killed it...they released it into the atmosphere. The grays that didn't die, fled. The Earth is uninhabitable for them now. Of course...maybe they got what they came for anyway. Sadly...there are so few of us now. The rest...well...I can only hope they never woke out of cryosleep. And of course I wonder. I wonder about...my sister. I hope wherever she is...well...I hope she never woke up either.

But now...the real work begins. The rebuilding. Six months ago we came back above ground...600 of us. Moved out into the country and ok...it looks like a 60s commune but it's home. Houses went up...all kinds of interesting structures. I mean half the guys here are geeks...computer hackers...God...the world was saved by the 'Revenge of the Nerds' but hell...it worked and now we're all working together to try to send the news out...we're here and we'll try to help. I'm sure the population'll grow.

The radio man, Roger Whitcomb, is our de facto mayor. He was apologetic about their radio problems. Early on they had power problems from unshielded equipment. EMP pulses were tough on them. Roger was a CEO of some tiny software company in Silicon Valley so he was the closest thing to a manager around at the time I guess. He stayed mayor. There are engineers here, chemists, and scientists from several different disciplines. Plain old John Q. Publics too...civilians as it were who made it to the bunkers and weren't turned away before the blast doors were shut down and the resistance closed themselves off. Farmers for one...and extra doctors too...real medical doctors to augment the staff on hand, including Scully and Suzanne who has a degree in medicine as well as chemistry. So, we're well set up to homestead. Word is getting out...others are joining our community. It's a good group of people and a few more trickle in periodically to add interest to the mix.

Frohike is head of research and development. He's really in his glory. And...he found himself a little redhead of his very own actually. I had to laugh the first time she and Scully met. Charlotte...that's her name...said, "I've heard so much about you," and Scully raised an eyebrow and Frohike turned scarlet. We all laughed like hell. She's a bit younger than Frohike...a young farmer's wife...widowed in the war...and they were married three months before we reached Pierre. She's expecting. So it looks like Charlie will have another little playmate before long.

As I said, Byers married Suzanne. That happened almost immediately upon their arrival in Pierre. The only religious leader here at the time was a Sioux medicine man...so they were married in a Native American ceremony. There's an ex-army chaplain here now too and sometimes the church services are very...eclectic. They haven't started a family yet. Byers told me they've just decided to start trying though, so maybe soon.

Langly...well...he's playing marathon sessions of D&D when he's not leading his band of real-life adventurers out into the landscape in search of whatever leftover technology or supplies that may prove useful. He's free of what he calls romantic entanglements...for now. But...I've seen how that one woman, the one who looks a little like Esther Nairn, and is his de-facto second in command, looks at him sometimes. I have to think someday there may be something between them. Only time will tell.

Naturally...Walter is head of security. His group is kind of the cops and the army all rolled into one. It's needed. There are still elements like Jack and his cohorts out there. But we're well guarded with Walter and his men and the Petes and larger versions of the screamer alarms. I lend a hand there too when it's necessary.

I'm still with him as much as I'm with Scully. Almost every day I'm struck by the fact that never in a million years would I have thought that Walter Skinner would be this solid a friend, my confidant...this much support to me...and that it would be a two way street. And I sure as hell never thought he'd be my lover. No shit. Never would have considered it back at the Hoover. I mean...I never remotely realized I'd enjoy being with a man in bed. But oh yeah, I enjoy it...big time. I like being in him but I like having him in me a whole lot. Something about that big cock up my ass. I love being on top...riding his erection...taking him in really deep and having him growling below me like he does when he arches up with those fantastic thigh and ass muscles to fuck me just the way I like it. I'm over 40 now and Walter's pushing 50 but when we're together there's more fire in the furnace than either of us could ever want. I'm so...so very lucky to have him and Scully. So very thankful.

He and Scully and I were married. Yeah...I told you church services here could be eclectic, right? In my opinion a ceremony wasn't necessary. I didn't feel as though I needed it really. But the other two thirds of the arrangement felt strongly about formalizing the relationship in front of God and everyone so the community got together and we had a wedding performed by both the medicine man, Richard Crow Flying and the chaplain, Henry Cabot, too for good measure. Frohike was best man. Langly was the groomsmen. Suzanne was the Maid of Honor and Frohike's wife, Charlotte, was the only bridesmaid. Charlie gave away the bride...with a lot of help from John Byers. So it was official...we were hitched and holy shit...we had a hell of a honeymoon.

Walter, Scully and I built our home here. It's a geodesic dome house and man, it was a challenge to construct in six months but we did it with the help of others in the community. We're still working on it some...getting it just right. But it has lots of glass for the greenhouse effect...solar heating. The ubiquitous pot-bellied stove. Fireplace. Good sized great room, kitchen. We still have an outhouse and will for a while, but we built a bathhouse connected to the main structure with a huge tub big enough for three adults and a little guy...Charlie...to bathe in. Charlie...who isn't so little anymore. God...he'll turn two this coming October. Hard to believe. He still looks a whole lot like Walter but there's a little more of Scully there too. His hair is more on the reddish side...Walter's was black, of course...and sometimes when he smiles...it's that same enigmatic smile Scully has sometimes. He's growing by leaps and bounds. Smart too...very quick and I tease Walter, telling him the kid must have gotten his brains from Scully. That usually gets a cuff on the back of the head or if he isn't close enough the middle finger salute. But I'd say he is...exceptional even if I do have a bit of bias about it. He walked early. Careens around here like a Tasmanian devil sometimes. I'll call him Taz and he'll laugh. He talked early as well...and manages to enunciate better than average I think. Calls me Mudder, though. Well...it's close. As long as he doesn't call me Fox, we're fine. Ah hell...he's just a nice little kid.

Charlie's big enough now to have his own little bedroom downstairs below the loft. Yeah, we have a loft again, and...we're still three to a bed. Everyone is very tolerant here and due to circumstances, family groups can be somewhat unconventional. The most unconventional of all was Marita Covarrubias and one of the Jeremiah Smiths. Needless to say...it's live and let live.

I'm helping Walter, but I'm also teaching a little. There are a few kids here and at the rate things are going...there'll be more. We all take turns trying to keep up their education. I'm teaching English. Scully teaches Science. She chips in at the clinic as well and in her off time...and I use that term loosely...she's planted a garden that's the envy of everyone here including some of the farmers who are homesteading nearby. God...she puts me to shame sometimes with the energy she has and her capacity to help...to shoulder the load...and to persevere.

But the big news regarding Scully is...she's pregnant again. Scully had of course begun menstruating right on schedule after Charlie's birth. So, we knew she was ovulating at least. We suspected the ova were fertile and Scully didn't want a baby right away and we didn't blame her. So, Walter and I used protection religiously until recently.

But...the stork's on the way now by mutual agreement. And guess what? This time...well this time...Fox Mulder is going to be a dad. Yeah, about three months along so far. It was planned...at least by two thirds of the relationship. Scully had mentioned a few times over the last month or so finally about maybe giving Charlie a little brother or sister and I of course, being somewhat dim about things thought...I wonder if Walter wants a girl this time? No clue at all she was thinking about making a baby with yours truly. All right...I still have some trouble realizing that Scully and Walter actually love me as much as they do and that they even want me around at all. But that's just my old inferiority complex rearing its ugly head.

So, I'm oblivious, and Scully and Walter must have cooked up the plan. One night Walter told Scully and me he'd promised to take Charlie over to see Richard Crow Flying and the wolf sculpture he was carving, and he gathered up his son and exited stage left. I heard him tell Pete to mind the store and Pete came in and flopped down in front of the hearth. I was working away on some lessons for the next day and suddenly the lanterns are turned low and a bottle of homemade wine and two wine glasses appear along with Scully dressed in just a T-shirt and panties and I ask her..."Why Agent Scully...are you trying to seduce me?" and she says..."But of course, Agent Mulder," and...a glass of wine each later and we're up in the loft bedroom going at it hot and heavy.

And God...there was something special about that night. That night Scully and my lovemaking was incredible...like the first time we were ever together. Incendiary. I made her come multiple times before I was anywhere near coming myself and we were both loving every minute of it. Finally, I was splayed out over her...so high with arousal I almost forgot about the condom and I rose up to fumble with the night stand when her hand came up and stopped my arm. I looked down at her and she pulled my hand to her lips and kissed my palm. "I need..." I started to tell her that I needed to get the rubber just in case she wasn't thinking quite straight at that point either and she said..."No...you don't...not...not tonight," and she smiled up at me and I gazed down at her...hoping because now...God...finally by this time I had realized how very much I did want to have a child with her but not sure she really meant it, and I asked, "Seriously?" and she laughed such musical laughter.

"Yes...I'm serious. Mulder, I love you...of course I want to have a baby with you," and I laughed and said..."You and Walter planned this didn't you?" and she laughed too and answered, "Yes we did...so..." she let her voice trail off. "So...I guess I've uh...risen to the occasion," I answered. And I had...proudly. And she laughed and kissed me and we went back to loving each other. And when I entered her it was with unparalleled joy because I knew we were going to try to create a new life that night, and Scully told me to knee up and put her ass on my lap so we'd have the best chance of that happening and I did...thrusting in deep and coming really deep inside her as well. After that first night we made sure we gave it a few more shots so to speak, and Walter, the old dog, abstained for almost a month...with both of us so I'd be locked and loaded, and he used protection until we were sure Scully was pregnant. So...in about six months we should find out if Charlie has a new brother or sister.

It's June now. I sit here...rambling...typing our story into this old laptop computer that survived the trip all the way from Canada and I marvel that we survived and how far we've come. Scully, Charlie and Walter are in the sunken living room, Scully and Walter debating whether to add a greenhouse to the house or a workshop for Walter's newly budding carpentry hobby/business and I throw back over my shoulder..."Why not both...I'll help," and they laugh, and Scully throws a paper airplane at me from the pad they're using to sketch some kind of plans out on. Charlie is playing with Pete, rolling around on his side while the terrier lies content and giving us all one of his doggie smiles.

Suddenly, Scully and Walter stop talking and the silence makes me stop typing and turn around. They're looking out the front windows, the windows that face the dirt path that leads from our front door down to the main part of the community. "I think we're going to have company," Scully suggests and Walter replies, "Evidently," and I look where they're looking and see a woman coming up the path. "I don't recognize her," Scully says distantly, and Walter gets up, takes his gun off the top of the mantle, shoves it in his pants, and makes his way to the front door. Pete shifts, dislodging Charlie gently and pads after Walter, on alert. We're still cautious when it comes to strangers. Most are benevolent but we have had those who were less than pleasant over the last year.

But this looks like a woman alone. Probably a newcomer to the settlement. Maybe someone told her we sometimes take in newbies until they find regular housing. She looks tired though, whoever she is...her step is heavy. Walter picks up on it. "I'll go meet her part way," he suggests. Scully and I nod and he and Pete continue to the front door. Walter opens it and they go on out. Scully, with Charlie holding her hand and toddling along, and I get up and walk over to the open door.

We stand and watch as Walter meets the woman, stops her and they converse. Pete sniffs her and then wags his tail, dances about her a little until I see Walter give the curt command for him to stay back. The dog does, standing at Walter's side as he talks to the woman. From here I can see she's fairly tall and thin with long, thick, somewhat wavy brown hair. She's dressed in hiking boots, jeans, a sweatshirt, a wide brimmed hat hangs down her back from the cord around her neck. A backpack and walking stick complete her possessions.

Something...something makes me feel strange as I watch them talk. Some kind of sensation...not deja vu...but something very similar. I watch and the feeling increases as Walter takes the woman around the shoulders and begins to walk her toward the house and I think...what is up with that...he's never that familiar with strangers and I think well...maybe she's exhausted and then they come closer and I look...closely, studying the woman...evaluating...postulating...struggling to...recognize, and thinking...where do I know this woman from and then the dawning realization and...I...I...hear Walter speaking and I can hardly hear his words for the pounding of my heart.

"Mulder...I think this is someone who's been looking for you for a very long time...who you've been looking for, for a very long time..." he rumbles, his voice rough with emotion.

And Walter has tears in his eyes and I hear Scully whisper, "Jesus," and the woman smiles and her eyes are bright with tears. "Fox?" she asks, shyly..."Oh my God...Fox..." and we fall into each other's arms and I sob "Samantha...Sam...oh..." and I choke on the words, sobbing and laughing, and Charlie laughs and says, "Mudder, Mudder huggin'," and Pete barks and Walter's patting me on the back and Samantha is saying..."I've come so far and I've finally found you," and Scully says..."Samantha Mulder, I'm Dana Scully, your brother's wife...this is our home...come in...come inside and make it your home too."

-THE END-
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