TITLE: Remembering Now, Pt. 1-5
AUTHOR: Dyann Zimmerman
Reply To: philer@onemain.com
RATING: R/NC-17
KEYWORDS: MSR; RST; X-File (sort
of);Angst SPOILERS:  At this
point, who cares? SUMMARY:
Scully's cancer has returned and
Mulder searches to find a cure
with a little help from an old
friend.
DISCLAIMERS: Please sue me.  I'd
love my fifteen minutes.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: William exists,
but this is not baby-fic.
E-MAIL: philer@onemain.com


GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
WASHINGTON, DC

The overhead lights are blinding her to what is going on around her,
even though she is all too aware of what is happening. Scully closes
her eyes, more for the sake of focusing her thoughts than to block out
the glare. She gently rubs her stomach, trying to calm herself, taking
deep breaths, all in an attempt to give her soul an ease. She sends
her thoughts elsewhere, elevating her consciousness away from now, to
peaceful memories of then......

......She walked into the kitchen, holding each of William's
outstretched hands in her fingers as he toddled in front of her. "Go
to Daddy, William...  Go to Daddy," Scully said, looking up at Mulder,
him wiping pizza grease off his hands with the nearest dish towel.

"Hey, buddy... Look at you!" Mulder said, bending to catch his son
before he fell. Mulder picked him up, holding him above his head,
jiggling him, his son's giggles and screams of joy delighting him.  
"Way to go, big guy!" he said, proud of his son's first unsteady
steps.

"Mulder, you make him sick and you'll be sitting up with him
tonight..." Scully said, smiling at the sight despite herself,
smacking Mulder on the rear with the back of her hand as she walked
toward the counter to finish the job he had started.

"Oh, come on, Scully.  I do this to him all the time and it hasn't
bothered him yet," Mulder said, continuing to bounce his son, watching
him giggle and squeal.

"No, you just get him all wound and then I'm the one who has to try to
nurse him and get him to sleep."

"Scullllly..." Mulder said moving toward her, William lying against
his chest.  "I don't believe anyone would have the least bit of
difficulty finding slumber if they had just spent the previous 15
minutes at your breast," he finished, bending to kiss her on the
cheek, noticing her smile out of the corner of his eye.

After dinner, with William down for the time being, they had relaxed
on the couch, Mulder reclining against the pillows with Scully sitting
between his legs, leaning against his chest. Her eyes were closed, her
hands subconsciously rubbing his thighs.  She felt almost hypnotized
by the smooth cadence of his velvet voice as he read to her.  She
loved it when he read to her......

......"Scully... Scully...?" Mulder says, bending over her as she
begins to rouse, his hand rubbing her thigh through the worn threads
of her hospital gown.

"Mmm," she mumbles, her eyes fluttering as she licks her lips.
"Mulder..."

"Scully, it's me--I'm here," he says, bending to kiss her cheek,
petting her hair back from her forehead.

"Mulder..." she says, her eyes finally locating him. "Thirsty..."

"Can you have anything?"

"Um, yeah...  Ice chips... 'r okay," she says, reaching to hold his
hand that was rubbing her thigh.  He squeezes her hand before reaching
for the small cup of ice sitting on the stand by her bed, spooning a
few chips to her lips. She looks at him, her eyes telling him 'thank
you' and 'I love you' without her saying a word.  "I want to go home,"
she finally says, as she tries to sit up further in the bed.

"Your doctor said you could go home after you've been able to eat
something and have been able to go to the bathroom," Mulder tells her,
reaching for the electronic control to elevate the head of her bed.
"I'll let the nurse know you're awake."

He bends to give her a quick kiss before leaving the room, but she
stops him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her
in an almost desperate embrace.  "Hold me a minute, Mulder...hold
me...," she says, her voice cracking as she finally lets her emotions
go.

OFFICE OF DR. CHERYL LANGIN
GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPTIAL
Three hours later

The office is warm, not in degrees, but in atmosphere, unusual for a
physician's office in a hospital.  There is framed art, mostly modern,
and sculpture adorning the various tables and shelves of the well
stocked bookcases. Mulder is wandering around the office, reading the
titles of the books on the shelves, already labeling Dr. Langin as a
serious intellectual. Scully sits in one of the overstuffed chairs in
front of the desk, idly picking at a thread on the hem of her sweater,
listening to the sound of the wind chime suddenly coming to life as
the current from the forced air vent causes it to flutter.

The blinds on the door rattle as it opens and Dr. Langin walks in,
carrying a file and several x- rays in her hand.  "Dana, Mulder, sorry
I'm late..." Dr. Langin says as she takes off her lab coat, throwing
it over the back of her chair before sitting.  She is dressed in faded
jeans and a dark brown turtleneck sweater, her attire as atypical for
a hospital physician as the style of her office. That's why Scully
chose her; that and the fact that they went to med school together and
Scully knows how brilliant she is.  Mulder moves to sit in the chair
next to Scully, looking toward her as he reaches for her hand.

"Well, Dana..., I only have the preliminary reports for most of your
tests, but I wanted you to know what I know. Actually, I think you
already suspect what we have found," she says softly. Scully looks
down at her hand, their hands together, quietly knowing what her
friend is about to tell her. "The growth in your breast is, most
likely, malignant, Dana. I'm sorry," she says and she truly is.

Scully nods, her lips pursed, something Mulder recognizes as one way
she uses to contain her emotion.  "Yeah, that's what I expected,
Cheryl. I think you know that I... we... are not shocked by that
information," she says, glancing toward Mulder who is staring at an
unknown spot on the floor.

"Dana, I think you should also know that it appears to have possibly
spread to the bone; there is a visible mass behind the breast near the
sternum," she says, knowing that Scully didn't expect this part of her
test results.  Dr. Langin moves from her chair toward the front of her
desk, leaning against it, just in front of Scully.  "Dana, I feel we
can provide treatment for this.  I don't want you to think there is
nothing to be done."

"Are you leaning toward surgery or chemo?" Scully asks plainly, no
emotion showing in her voice, but stunned by the last bit of
unexpected information.  But Mulder could see it in her eyes, in her
body language; he always knew she was actually nervous when she put on
the 'Skinner's office persona', as he called it. Others saw it as
nerves of steel, but he knew better.  And while Mulder puts on as good
of a front as Scully, he is becoming seriously concerned that he is
going to throw up.

"Both," Dr. Langin answers.  "I think the mass in the breast can be
excised.  Of course, as you know, Dana, we'll biopsy the surrounding
tissue and lymph's to see if we need to do more once we get in there."

"You mean whether you might need to remove the entire breast," Scully
says matter-of factly, all of the information already overloading
Mulder's senses. "What time frame are we talking here, Cheryl?  Is
this something we need to do ASAP or do we have some time?"

"The sooner the better, Dana, but I would like to wait, at least, long
enough to get the rest of the results of the tests you had today;
probably day after tomorrow.  We didn't put you through all that
torture today for no reason, Dana," Dr. Langin says, the small bit of
levity in her voice a welcomed relief.

Scully looks toward Mulder and he squeezes her hand, the look in his
eyes almost too much for her. Standing, Scully extends her hand to Dr.
Langin, "Thanks, Cheryl. I... um... appreciate your candor and I guess
I'll just wait to hear from you.  You have my cell number, don't you?"
Scully says, her speech quick and unemotional, a tactic Dr. Langin
recognizes.

"Dana..." she says, pulling Scully into an embrace as Mulder finally
releases Scully's hand. "We're going to get you through this," she
finishes, stepping back to look at Scully. "You call me anytime if you
think of anything else or if you just want to talk... or anything,
Dana-- I mean it."

"Thanks, Cheryl.  I will," Scully finishes, reaching for Mulder's hand
again as they leave the office, still too stunned to speak to each
other.

MULDER & SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Later that evening

They rode home in near silence, Mulder glancing at her several times,
knowing she wasn't going to talk until she was ready, until she had
absorbed and analyzed everything in that systematic mind of hers. She
had asked him not to say anything to her mother yet when they picked
William up before going home to their new apartment.

They had lived apart initially after Mulder had returned and before
William was born, but soon realized the stupidity of it and Mulder had
sublet his place to Byers and moved in with Scully not long after
William's birth. After a couple of months of living together, they
were lucky to find an apartment on the upper floor of Scully's
building, similar to her old one, but with two bedrooms and an extra
bath. Mulder had been reinstated as a field agent, thanks to Doggett
and Reyes' successful investigation of Kersch, proving that he had
deliberately plotted to discredit Mulder. Scully had stayed at
Quantico, needing the routine schedule for William, but still often
consulting and working with Mulder on various cases.  It was a nice
arrangement and they had settled into a fairly normal life.  They had
finally managed to get out of the car.

Until the night Mulder had felt the lump in Scully's breast.

After returning from the hospital, they had been busy with things
around the apartment, with William, with a few things from work and
hadn't said another word about what had transpired at the hospital.
Mulder had gone to bed first and was lying flat with his head propped
up watching television, the TV in the bedroom a concession Scully had
made to him when they moved to the larger apartment.

"Mulder, did you send my grey pajamas with the laundry?" she asks,
coming from the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around her
hair.

"If it'll keep you from putting them on, then, yes, I did," he says,
using the remote to quickly turn off the television.

"Ha," she says, continuing to search the drawer of her dresser,
finally locating a different pair.  "Mulder, you can turn the TV back
on; it won't keep me awake," she says as she's crawling into bed
beside him.

"I turned it off because we need to talk, Scully," he says firmly.

She is lying on her back, one arm lying on the pillow behind her head,
the other across her stomach, staring at the ceiling. "What is there
to talk about, Mulder?  Huh?  You heard what I heard today; I have
nothing to add at this point," she says, continuing to stare at the
ceiling, looking at anything but him.

"Scully, please don't do this..." he tells her, turning on his side to
look at her, a look she doesn't return.

"Do what?" she answers, her irritation starting to betray her efforts
to stay calm.

"Goddammit, Scully.  You know what I mean. Don't shut me out. I
thought we were past that," he says, his exasperation now present in
his tone.

She turns to see him then and despite his voiced aggravation with her,
all she sees in his verdant eyes is pure fear, a look that shoves
every emotion she has bottled up over the top. "I don't want to talk
about it, Mulder! Is that too much to ask for one day?!" she shouts at
him.  She catches herself, not wanting to wake William or argue, not
today, and lowers her voice, sitting up to lean against the headboard.
"Mulder, you know that in about two days, our lives are going to be
turned upside down; that nothing will be normal for us again," she
starts, her voice calm and soft, almost too much so.  "Is it so wrong
to just want to have a couple of peaceful days with my son and my...
and you?" She moves over to him, lying back down and putting her arms
around his neck. "I'm not shutting you out.  I'm not.  I just don't
want to deal with this tonight. Please try to understand," she
finishes, laying her head against his chest.

"I can understand that, Scully," he answers, rethinking his
supposition about why she wouldn't talk.  Since they had been
together, moved in together, they had talked... really talked. He knew
she had always trusted him and, as she had confessed, loved him from
almost the beginning, but she had shared very few true emotions and
feelings with him-until she knew he truly had wanted to hear them. She
had told him that; that she had wanted to tell him so many things, but
had always felt he didn't really care about her that way, that his
primary interest in her was only related to the work. He had laughed
at her in disbelief then, telling her he always figured she had seen
him as a lovesick loser; him wanting her, but she not wanting him as
anything but a partner.

But after they had talked, really talked, she had been open and
forthcoming with him and he had hoped she wasn't shutting him out
again. "I just wish you would have explained that to me earlier," he
says, a slight laugh to his voice.

Scully moves up, pushing Mulder to his back and crawls almost on top
of him to kiss him. "Don't ever think I would hold something back from
you, Mulder.  This won't be like the last time. When I need you, I'll
say so," she says, kissing him again, her fingers playing with his
hair.

"Thank you, Scully," he smiles to her, giving her a kiss that she
intensifies considerably. "Hey, you wouldn't by any chance be needing
me right now, would you?" he says with his best lascivious voice,
reaching to squeeze her bottom.

"I always need you..." she says into his ear, her voice barely a
whisper. Mulder lifts the hem of her top, sliding his hands under the
elastic of the pants of her pajamas, squeezing her bottom again. She
moves off of him, pulling her top over her head and slipping her pants
down her legs, throwing both to the floor.  He removes his boxers as
she scoots back under the covers, waiting for him to snuggle up next
to her.  She barely gives him a chance to get under the covers before
she is half on top of him again, her hand reaching for his penis,
cupping him as she kisses his chest, licks at his nipple.

"Scully... Scully, honey, slow down," he says, taking her face in his
hands, trying to get her to look at him.

"I need you so much, Mulder," she says, a desperation in her voice
that touches Mulder's very soul.

He holds her to him as he turns to his side, laying her on her back.
"Lay back, Scully..." he whispers to her, kissing her neck, down to
the hollow of her throat.  "Let me make you feel better..."

She looks at him, relaxing into what he is asking, anticipating what
she knows is coming next. He kisses her breast, brushing his tongue
over her nipple, being careful not to suck, all the while massaging
her other breast with the firm muscles of his hand. He licks the
underside of her breast, an area he knows is sensitive to her, causing
her to shiver, her nipples drawing to an aching hardness.  The tender
skin feels wonderful to his lips, he thinks, as he sucks the softness,
giving her a small hickey in a place he has forgotten others are going
to see.

When he reaches her ribs, he tickles her, eliciting a giggle and a
'dammit Mulder' all in the same sound.  Her abdomen has a soft swell
that wasn't there before William, but is an addition he loves-- but
she hates.  He caresses it with his palm, squeezing the extra flesh as
if in worship.

"Mulder, I wish you weren't so in love with that paunch, because as
soon as I stop breast feeding, it's history, you know," she manages to
tease him through her arousal.  He laughs, giving her a raspberry
against her skin that causes her knees to flex and brings out another
giggle.  The giggle lasts only until his fingers reach her center, her
gasp ending it quickly. His tongue is next, licking her folds from
bottom to top with the flat of his tongue.  He repositions himself
between her legs; gently parting them with his moist fingers with no
resistance from her, her only movement is her hands grabbing at the
bed linens. After lifting her knee, he lays her leg over his shoulder
and wraps his hand around her thigh, using his fingers to open her.

Mulder takes her clitoris into his mouth, sucking it, giving it a
light nip that causes her hips to buck. Her skin is trembling, her
thigh muscles twitching with everything he is doing.  The moan that
escapes when he inserts two fingers into her is low and throaty; her
exhale of "Oh, Mulder" is enough to almost break his concentration. He
searches for just the right spot, knowing he's found it when her back
arches and he no longer hears her raspy panting, knowing she is
holding her breath as she always does when she climaxes.

Finally she exhales, flexes her fists to bring some feeling back into
them, her body easing back against the sheet.  Mulder moves up over
her, balancing himself above her on his elbows, loving every second of
the sated expression on her face.  They smile at each other before he
kisses her, the taste of herself on his lips not unpleasant to her,
but not as satisfying as he obviously finds it.

"Mulder, have I ever told you how good you are at that?" she says, her
voice almost a murmur, trying to regain enough control over her body
to rub her hands over his back.

"Well, not specifically in words, but your reaction gives me a general
idea," he grins at her, licking the bit of drool that has seeped out
the corner of her mouth.  He reaches down to guide himself into her,
her eyes closing and her head tipping back into the pillow as he does.

"Nnnnnn, Mulder, I wasn't expecting that... I was going to return the
favor," she says breathily.  "I just needed a little time to recoup...
ohhhhhh."  Deep, slow thrusts are what he knows she likes in the
beginning, a discovery he made early on and something she confirmed
sometime later when he had asked her about it.

"Mmmmm, Scully, you're right where I want you..." he tells her as they
move slowly together. They continue to move together languidly,
Scully's orgasm making her almost drowsy.  His strokes begin to become
more vigorous, more hurried, a sign she knows means he is getting
closer.  Her legs are draped over the backs of his thighs, a position
she enjoys until he becomes more forceful, then preferring to put her
feet flat on the bed for leverage. He moves his knees a bit, shifting
his position, trying to find a good spot for her, too, but knowing he
isn't going to be able to last much longer. "How ya doin' down there,
Scully?" he asks between breaths, wondering if she is getting close.

"Mmmmm, good," she smiles, her eyes closed, her body moving in pure
bliss.

"Close?" he murmurs, realizing she didn't quite understand what he was
asking.

"I don't think it's gonna happen again," she tells him, her voice
barely above a whisper.

"What... oh, Scully... d'you need?" he tries to ask, the formulation
of words becoming more and more difficult.

"Finish, Mulder... I'm fine..." she murmurs to him and means it. She
has tried to explain to him how her ultimate goal in making love with
him isn't always orgasm; that spiritual and physical intimacy are
sometimes enough for her. She did, however, stress the 'sometimes'
part.

The timbre of his sounds lowers and she knows he is there. He is fully
up on his arms now, his elbows locked, any sense of rhythm long gone
as he pumps into her only a few more times before he comes, pouring
his soul into her as well.  He lays over her clumsily, trying to
support most of his weight with his elbows until he calms. She feels
his heart thumping against her breast, a fleeting prayer flashing
through her mind that maybe his life force will heal her. His breath
is hot and moist pulsing against the side of her throat, his head
buried there.  He begins to kiss her, finally able to pull up a bit to
see her expression, focus his eyes on hers. She caresses his face,
runs her hands down his shoulders and arms, across his back, massaging
his sweat into his skin.  He rolls to his back, taking her with him.  
She is kissing his neck now, rubbing her body against his, feeling
their liquid against her thigh that is lazily stirring between his.

"See, Mulder.  Because orgasm was your end goal, you're done now," she
says to him softly, teasing him.  She writhes against him slowly,
nuzzling his neck, licking his ear before kissing him soundly on the
mouth. "I'm still making love."

"Touche'" he laughs, then reaches over to turn off the light.

J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, DC
Six weeks later, 8:01am

'Federal Bureau of Investigation. How may I direct your call?'

"Mr. Fox Mulder," a man's voice says plainly.

'Just a moment and I'll connect you.'

Scully fumbles with the key in the lock, hearing the phone ringing
behind the locked door of the basement office.  Hurrying toward the
desk, she grabs at the receiver hoping to get it in time.

"Fox Mulder's office," Scully says into the receiver, not really
knowing how else to answer.

"Mr. Mulder, please," the formal British accent requests.

"I'm sorry, he isn't here right now.  May I take a message?" Scully
asks, searching for a pen and something to scribble on.

"Just tell him I know where the cure can be found," the man finishes
and hangs up. Scully looks at the receiver a few moments before
putting it back in its cradle, a fleeting question about what that
message could mean, then having a little laugh to herself thinking
Mulder is still getting cryptic messages from unknown informants.
'Some things never change' she thinks to herself.

Scully sits down in Mulder's desk chair, swiveling around so that she
is facing his bulletin board, remembering the years she spent in this
office.  She begins studying the eclectic combination of things he has
chosen over the years to display--articles about bizarre phenomenon
and unexplained events, pictures of aliens, of spaceships... O.J.
Simpson.  The cases they had had over the years... strange, scary,
dangerous, but there were also some very funny times, humorous, crazy
situations that he managed to get them into.  She turns the chair back
around and reaches for his nameplate that is sitting askew near the
front edge of his desk, thinking what that nameplate has symbolized to
her on a couple of occasions in their time together.  She reclines
back into the chair, finally noticing all of the yellow #2 pencils he
has idly or nervously impaled into the FBI's ceiling tiles,
remembering......

......"Caddyshack, Mulder?" she asked him, questioning his cinematic
tastes, reclining back against the leather of his worn couch. He sat
down next to her, offering a bowl of unbuttered popcorn that he had
labeled 'un American'.

"It's a classic American movie," he said, acting like he was trying to
convince her.

"That's what every guy says-- it's a guy movie," she told him, opening
her beer and tossing the cap toward the wastebasket and making it.

"Okay, when you invite me over to your place, we can watch 'Steel
Magnolias'" he teased her, tossing his beer cap toward the wastebasket
and missing.  She laughed then, Mulder not finding it all that
humorous.

"So uh... what's the occasion?" she asked, looking at him sideways
with a smirk that said everything.

"I dunno; just felt like the thing to do," he said, looking at her
wondering why she thought he had to have an occasion to invite her to
his apartment.

"Cheers," he said, tapping the top of his beer bottle to hers.

"Cheers," she answered, taking a drink.

"I don't know if you noticed, but... um... I never made the world a
happier place," he told her.

A genie.  Mulder had believed in a genie. Scully had laughed to
herself on her way over to his apartment that evening; thinking 'what
would have to come along for him not to believe?'.  He had actually
thought that a woman he found wrapped up in a Persian rug was going to
grant him three wishes and he was going to effect world peace.  
Mulder...

"Well, I'm fairly happy.  That's something," she said, smiling at him,
a smile that let him know that it had been him who had made her that
way.  He smiled back, knowing exactly what she meant.

"So, what was your final wish, anyway?" she asked coyly, knowing full
well what he was wishing for at the moment.  He simply grinned back at
her, taking another swig from his beer before setting it on the coffee
table. Then, he pointed the remote at the television and turned off
the movie, Bill Murray barely making it to the golf course.

She grinned at him as he stood, taking her beer from her and setting
it on the table next to his, putting his hand out for hers. She took
it, thinking they were on their way to his bedroom. Instead, he led
her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  She was shocked to
see it stocked with food--fresh fruit, several containers from her
favorite deli just down the street, another six pack of beer. A loaf
of French bread and three bottles of wine were sitting on the kitchen
counter, more staples than he had probably ever had in his apartment
at any one time in his entire life.

Mulder then led her to the bathroom and showed her the extra
toothbrush, hairbrush, woman's deodorant, a small perfume bottle of
her favorite scent and the deep rose silk bathrobe that hung on the
back of the bathroom door. "We're all set for the weekend, Scully," he
said, grinning at her, wrapping his arms around her waist, looking
down at her.

"We are, huh?" she said, her smile telling him she was as ready as he
was.  "You really know how to show a gal the world, Mulder..." she
teased.

"The world... my bedroom-- the end result's still the same," he said,
bending to kiss her.  They had only been intimate a few times by that
point, but this had been the beginning of a weekend that found neither
of them wearing anything more than a bathrobe again until Monday
morning when they had to go to work.

Nothing with Mulder had ever been orthodox, not from the beginning.
And while Scully had always appeared to be as traditional as virtually
any person of her generation was, various aspects of her life proved
that she had a true desire to be unordinary, to not follow what was
expected of her.  She hadn't followed the family plan, neither in her
work or her relationships, neither in who she chose or in the fact
that she seldom chose anyone. And the unorthodox being that was Fox
Mulder had appealed to every bit of that aspect of her from the first
time she had met him.

And they had spent an equally unorthodox weekend... for her. No work,
no reading, no cleaning or running errands; just pure unadulterated
sex.  Well, it had started out as sex, but by the end of the weekend,
she knew that it had been lovemaking, her life with Mulder becoming
just a bit more unorthodox......

......"Scully?" she hears, stirring from her reverie.  "To what do I
owe this visit?" he says, walking into the office, bending to kiss her
cheek when he reaches the desk.

"Mulder, don't," she says, never too thrilled with him when he shows
any kind of affection towards her at work.  "I just came by to see if
you could get away a little early."

"You okay?" he asks her softly, leaning against the desk, looking down
at her sitting in his chair.

"That's why I came by... I... um... this hasn't been one of my good
days and I thought I could talk you into taking me home," she tells
him quietly.  She had taken herself to chemo earlier that morning and
had been able to make it to a required meeting in the Hoover Building
at noon.  But she had needed to excuse herself twice from the meeting
because of nausea and barely made it to the end of the meeting before
throwing up again.

"Sure, Scully.  More nausea today?" he asks softly, his heart sinking
every time she has symptoms that remind him of how sick she actually
is.

"I'm hanging in there..." she says smiling at him, not wanting to
dwell on her illness, wanting to keep their lives as normal as
possible.  "Oh, you had a call a few minutes ago-- kind of a weird
one, actually," she tells him in an effort to change the subject.

"A weird phone call in this office is normal, Scully.  Have you
forgotten?" he jokes.

"What was the call?"

"It was a man's voice... British accent... and all he said was that he
knew where the cure could be found.  Mean anything?" she asks,
wondering if he'll have the same thought that she did, that it might
have something to do with her.

"Um, yeah, maybe... uh, just something with a case I'm working on," he
lies, mentally scrambling to decide what to do.  "Uh, let me just run
a couple of things to another agent," he tells her, gathering a few
things from the desk to make his excuse seem more legitimate.  "And
I'll be done and we can go home, okay?" he asks, already half out the
door of the office.  He hits the stairs and gets to the ground floor
and flips open his cell phone.

"Danny, it's me," Mulder says into the phone. "Listen, I need you to
trace the last call that just came into my office... Call me with
whatever you find--on my cell only.  ...Yeah, and ASAP, okay?"

MULDER & SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Later that evening

Scully had gone to bed almost as soon as she arrived home. She had
taken William with her and Mulder sat with them while she held the
baby for a while until Mulder had taken William so she could finally
rest. He was used to her being nauseous and knew that she would need a
few hours for everything to settle down.  He also knew that she seldom
felt like eating much beyond a plain baked potato, real baked, not
micro-waved, and some cold ginger ale.

Mulder had mixed William's cereal and formula and was feeding him 
when
Scully got up and he noticed that she looked like she was feeling
better.  "You look... improved.  Rest well?" he asks her, hoping she
had.

"Yeah, actually I did.  I feel pretty good. I felt so awful earlier
that I was afraid this was going to be another bad one," she says to
him, making herself a glass of ginger ale before joining them at the
table, taking over Mulder's job of feeding William.

Her first week of chemo had been terrible. She had vomited until she
felt like her teeth were going to come out and she had lost 6 pounds
in a week; 6 pounds that she couldn't afford to lose. Her surgery had
gone well, only the lump having to be removed from her breast, but
they had found malignancy in the bone.  So she was having a regime of
radiation and chemo; one week on and one week off.  Today was her last
treatment for this week's round and she was looking forward to some
rest for her body.

Initially, Mulder had insisted on going with her to her treatments
every day, but by the second round of treatment, she had set him down
and explained to him why it was important for her to go by herself. He
was so nervous for her when he went with her and she knew he was stir
crazy while he waited.  She told him she needed to keep her
independence and take care of herself as much as she possibly could;
it was important to her. She explained how much she needed him
afterwards, for comfort and with William and he had reluctantly agreed
to no longer go with her unless, on a given day, she would ask him,
would need him.  And she had, during a particularly bad week and he
had sat with her through the entire process for three consecutive
days.

"How's he been?" she asks as she continues to help William spoon his
oatmeal.

"Good.  He wanted to come in with you a couple of times, but I...
um... diverted his attention," he says, smiling.

"Oh God, Mulder, what did you two get into?" she asks, knowing that by
the look on Mulder's face it was something that she wouldn't approve
of.

"Nothing, nothing.  Just don't go into his bathroom until I get it
cleaned," he tells her sheepishly.

She is seemingly no longer paying attention to him, instead looking
into William's ear. "Mulder, what is this green stuff in William's
ear?"

"...Jell-O," he hesitates before answering as softly as he possibly
can.

"Jell-O..." she says looking at him, not like she couldn't believe
what he had admitted, but like she wasn't surprised in the least.

"We played in the tub..." he says giving her his goofiest of grins,
hoping that she isn't mad at him.

She begins to smile, trying to hold it in and then she laughs. And
laughs hard, tilting her head back and slapping her leg hard. William
watches her and then begins to imitate her, laughing like he knows
what he is laughing at, but, of course, having no clue.  Mulder just
watches Scully, relishing what seeing her laugh like that does to
every part of his being.  It seemed like so long since he'd seen her
laugh like that and really mean it.  She would laugh, teasing William
or sometimes when he would kid her but he knew it was just her attempt
at trying to convince him she was feeling okay.  He remembered what
had made her laugh like that, only a few short months ago......

......"Stop it!!  Mulder, please... please!!!" she squealed between
laughs, running around the opposite side of the bed from him, both of
them dripping wet and naked as naked could get. "Please, I give, I
give!"

"Huh uh, Scully...  You started this and now I'm going to finish it,"
he said grinning at her, making his way to the other side of the bed,
cornering her.

They had started to shower together if William was sleeping or at her
mothers, trying to find time together any way they could. Margaret had
taken William for the night and they had reservations at a nice
restaurant and were going to have a night alone for a change.  The
battle had started after Scully had stepped out of the shower before
Mulder and she had reached in and turned the water fully to cold,
leaving Mulder to receive the full shock of the change in temperature
as she ran.

"Come on, Scully, you might as well get this over with!" he said,
grabbing at her as she tried to get away from him.  She dropped to the
floor, hoping to get around him to run, but before she could, he
grabbed her again, this time stopping her and pinning her supine to
the floor.

"Mulder, I said I give... I give, uncle, whatever you want me to say!"
she said between laughs, hysterics actually.  He had her hands held
over her head and was holding her body down with his hips.  He tickled
her mercilessly, her body writhing, tears of laughter covering her
cheeks.

"You give?  What'd ya give me, Scully?" he said, continuing to tease
her.

"Anything... anything!  Please, Mulder!!" He grinned at her before
letting go of her hands, bending to kiss her at the same time. She
smacked his arm, but not with much punch behind it, much more
interested in responding to his kiss and the feeling of his body on
top of hers.  Finally, he broke the kiss, moving back to look at her,
her expression of arousal more than he could handle.  She pulled him
down for another kiss, the movement of her mouth, and her hands over
his back, his chest, almost desperate.

"You don't play fair, Mulder," she said, kissing his neck, his jaw
line.  She reached for his penis and took it in her hand, beginning to
stroke him.

"Oh, shit... and that little move proves to me that you don't either,"
he said, shifting a bit so that their bodies were touching fully.  
"Mmmmm, Jesus, Scully..."

"Mulder, our reservations are in one hour," she said distractedly,
continuing to brush her hands over his skin, kissing him, losing
herself in his kisses, the feeling of his skin against hers.

"Suddenly, I'm not hungry..." he said, opening her legs, entering her
slowly, feeling her body relax beneath him, her soft moan confirmation
that their night out had just become a night at home......

......"Mulder?  Where'd you go?" she asks softly, reaching to lay her
hand on top of his on the table, bringing him back to now.

"Uh, nowhere... here... thinking of you," he smiles self- consciously.  
She squeezes his hand, knowing full well he had been thinking of
better times.

He stands, reaching to gather William's plate and taking it to the
dishwasher.  "I'll clean up in here if you get William bathed, if you
feel like it, that is," he says to her.  As soon as she leaves the
kitchen with William, Mulder retrieves his cell phone from his coat
pocket and calls Frohike, desperate to find out if he had discovered
any further information on the phone number Danny had given him.

"It's me.  What'd you find?" he asks as soon as Frohike answers.

"Nothing much, Mulder.  We were able to track the number to an address
in New York City, but the name on the account is a British
corporation.  So we're still trying to track down the real owners," he
reports matter-of factly.

"What type of corporation?  Do you have a name?" Mulder asks, thinking
that maybe if he heard a name, he might know something.

"Well, that's another mysterious thing... the letters of incorporation
are hinky, real vague, you know.  'Manufacturing' was all it said.  
And there seems to be a lot of effort put into no one finding out
exactly what they were doin' or who actually owns this 'corporation',"
Frohike reports.

"Well, keep trying, Frohike... and call me with anything, any
information, okay?"

"Will do, Mulder," he answers quickly and then adds.  "Why's this so
urgent?"

"It may just be something that could help Scully..."

Continued in Part 2

TITLE: Remembering Now, Pt. 2-5
AUTHOR: Dyann Zimmerman               RATING: R/NC-17
E-MAIL: philer@onemain.com

J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING WASHINGTON, DC
The next morning, 7:31am

Mulder was anxious to hear from the Lone Gunmen, hoping they had
burned the midnight oil digging deeper to find the identity of whoever
it was who had tried to contact him. He had been checking some on his
own since arriving early at Hoover and had found out that the phone
call had come from a New York location other than the 'corporation'
headquarters. "Mulder," he answers the phone, scrambling to get to it
and not miss another call.

"We got a name..." Byers tells him.  "A very British gentleman,
Charles Montgomery Eastman.  Home address is London, England but he
did much of his 'business' in New York City, it seems."

"You got any line on his current whereabouts?" Mulder asks, wanting to
try to contact this man and not wait to see if he will try to contact
him again.

"Not yet, but we got a picture..." Langly's voice chimes in. "Seems
the chap won an award for his hybrid roses about twenty years ago and
was a little too proud to get his picture in the paper for it."

"Modem it here... now," Mulder says quickly, turning on his computer
in the same breath. In only takes a couple of minutes, but seems like
an eternity, before the picture appears on his screen.  "Fuck," Mulder
says to no one, but Byers is still on the phone. "Well, I can tell you
where this guy lives..."

"You can ID him?" Byers asks.

"Yeah, and I'm fairly sure of his current address... a stately London
cemetery, I would guess," Mulder says dejectedly.

"What?  Mulder, we could find no record that this man wasn't still a
live, breathing Limey," Frohike notes.

"Well, I have no doubt he's dead, 'cause I watched him and his Lincoln
Continental explode... over five years ago."

LONDON, ENGLAND
2:31pm

"Have you located Mr. Mulder?" he says to the dark-haired man sitting
behind the desk, staring into the computer screen.

"I'm still trying, sir," he says to the distinguished well- dressed
grey-haired man, reclining in an over-stuffed chair across the room.  
"We're working on getting his private cell phone number since you
don't want us contacting his home directly," the assistance relays.

"Well, attend to it.  I don't want to have to contact him where Miss
Scully might hear," he says.  "And if we don't reach him soon, it may
be too late..."

GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
ONCOLOGY UNIT
One week later

Scully tries to relax in the hospital recliner, the air too chilled
and sterile for any true relaxation, but she gives it her best effort.  
She had been feeling somewhat better during the last week, during her
week off from treatment, but knew this week would be different.  She
was thinking that as a doctor and as a person who had already had
cancer once, how had she missed the signs this time?  She had pondered
this question many times over the past two months and had realized
that she had had no signs, no little indicators that maybe had meant
nothing in isolation of each other, but put together, would have been
some warning sign, some signal.  But she hadn't had any.  It was
almost like her cancer just appeared one day.

The oncology nurse inserts the IV into her left arm as Scully leans
her head back against the recliner and closes her eyes. She feels the
sting of the needle and immediately feels her whole body tense, an
automatic response to having been poked and prodded so many times in
the last couple of months that she thinks she should be used to it by
now--- but isn't. She feels the liquid go in, the vein in her arm
feeling almost raw from the harsh chemicals being pumped into her.

"Hi, Dana...  Hangin' in there?" Dr. Harkin asks her as she walks up,
touching her arm as she speaks so as not to startle her.

Scully opens her eyes, locating her friend who has just pulled up a
chair next to her. "Yeah, hanging being the operative word," Scully
jokes.

"Radiation go okay?" Dr. Harkin then asks, knowing Scully had her
treatment just prior to getting her chemo.  "You look tired, Dana."

"I felt good last week, but I don't feel like I regained any
strength..." Scully says sadly.  "What are you doing down here,
Cheryl?  Lost?" Scully teases.

"I came to see how my friend was doing.  This is as close to a house
call as I get, Dana," she teases back.  "Seriously, tell me how you
are doing."

"The public or private version?" Scully asks rhetorically. "The public
version is that I'm hanging in there.  The personal version? I feel
like hell, Cheryl.  My energy level is about zip and that isn't just
the greatest when you have a ten month old baby to take care of."

"Yeah, I imagine not..." Cheryl confirms softly.  "But you have
help... your mother, Mulder..." she states, but Scully knows she is
really asking.

"Mulder has become much more of a father to William than I am a
mother, Cheryl.  He does everything when things haven't gone well with
my treatments and my mother fills in when we need her.  So, it isn't
that I don't have help.  I just feel so damned guilty... and I miss
being able to be with my son... and Mulder... in the ways that I want
to..." Scully sighs.

Cheryl looks at her a few moments, sensing from the look on Scully's
face that there is more that she needs to say. "Dana, after you're
finished here, come up to my office, okay?  It's more private," she
says.

OFFICE OF DR. CHERYL LANGIN
GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL              
One hour later

Scully dabs at her eyes with a tissue, sitting in the chair in front
of the desk, her friend sitting next to her in the other easy chair.
She gives Scully rapt attention, sincerely concerned for her friend's
emotional state, just as she is struggling to cure her physical state.

"Cheryl, I feel so useless...  I have days where I can barely work.  
I can't go out into the field at all anymore and I've had to ask for
assistance on a couple of autopsies. I can't breast feed anymore and I
miss it so much.  There are days when Mulder takes total care of
William and I only see him a couple of times when Mulder brings him to
lay with me on the bed or the couch.  And Mulder..." she trails off,
her voice cracking, unable to finish what she really needs to say.

"What about Mulder, Dana?  Tell me," Cheryl says, touching Scully's
arm with affection.

"He is so... patient with me..."

"He loves you, Dana.  That would be obvious to a blind man."

"I know.  I absolutely know that.  And that's the hard part... I can't
love him... in the ways I want to... need to," she says, unable to
look at anything but the tissue she is pulling at with her fingers.

 "You mean you can't make love, you don't feel like it?" Cheryl asks
softly, Scully's discomfort in discussing something so private very
apparent to her.

"I don't feel like it most of the time and when I do feel like it,
I...  I'm so afraid he'll think it's him," Scully says, finally
looking at her friend.  "And it isn't.  I want him, but I just
can't... I can't... God, Cheryl... I feel so- - I don't know what
talking about this with you..." Scully finishes, giving Cheryl a small
embarrassed smile.

"You're having response problems?" Cheryl asks. "Physically?"

"Yes.  Even when I am... aroused, I can't..." Scully, stutters,
feeling silly that she is finding it so difficult to talk about this.

"You can't lubricate or reach orgasm," Cheryl finishes for her, trying
to make this easier for Scully and very used to hearing these
complaints from her patients.  "Dana, you know that sexual motivation
is part of the sympathetic nervous system and this system is affected
by the anti-cancer drugs you are taking.  To increase or sustain your
response, you'll need to work at it a little longer, Dana.  And that
ain't a bad thing," she kids, trying to get Scully to relax.

"True.  I guess I was just too stressed about it to try to analyze
it," Scully smiles.

"And your stress just makes it worse; you know that," Cheryl points
out.  "I don't mean to make this sound like it is a simple problem,
Dana, because it isn't.  But it is common among my chemo patients and
I think you'd be surprised what a glass of wine and increased foreplay
can do," she smiles. "Have Mulder give you a massage, relieve some of
your physical stress.  I know you have an open dialog with him, Dana.  
You wouldn't be with him if you didn't.  Tell him what you need; use
whatever means it takes to reach the arousal level you need to
respond, for your body to respond."

"Well, that will be music to Mulder's ears," Scully jokes, standing
from the chair, straightening her jacket.  "Thanks Cheryl. I guess I
just needed to vent..."  She hugs her friend and opens the door to
leave.

"One last thing, Dana..." Dr. Langin says, a mischievous smile on her
face.  "Remember the Skenes."  Scully laughs hysterically as she exits
the room, continuing to chuckle as she gets on the elevator, the
others riding down looking at her strangely.  If they only knew...

FOX MULDER'S OFFICE 
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING 
Same day 

Mulder was pacing his office, trying to process everything the Gunman
had found and weighing it against what his own eyes had told him years
ago.  Langly had found US government records that indicated their
British friend was indeed living, as recently as seven months ago,
because his income had been 'supplemented' by that very same
government. But Mulder knew he had seen that car explode, barely
escaping it himself, and could imagine no possible way that Mr.
Eastman could have survived such a blast.  However, as he knew,
stranger things had happened, particularly in his life.

"Mulder," he answers his office phone.

"Mulder, we think we've found him," Frohike tells him.  "We found a
New York address to check out.  You game for a little midnight
ramblin'?"

"Um, yeah.  Uh, I gotta check on Scully; she had a treatment today.  
I'll meet you at your place at nine."  Mulder wondered how he was
going to get out of the apartment without telling Scully where he was
going, but he'd find a way.  He had to.

MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT Same day, 6:10pm When 
Mulder arrives
home, he finds the apartment almost dark and very quiet, almost too
quiet.  "Scully?" he calls, knowing she was already home given that
her car was in her space in the lot.

"Hi," she says, coming from the bedroom, flipping on the kitchen light
as she walks toward him.  She looked good, a smile on her face that he
hadn't seen in a while.

"Where's William?" he asks, as he takes his coat off and hangs it on
the rack.  She moves immediately to him, clasping her arms around his
waist and embracing him tightly.

"With Mom... for the night," she says softly, looking up at him with a
smile.

"Seriously?" he asks even though he knows she isn't joking.

"Come on, I've got a surprise," she says, taking him by the hand and
leading him to the table.  It is already set, with candles and a
bottle of white chilling in a container of ice.  "Don't choke,
Mulder," she teases him noticing the look of disbelief on his face. "I
didn't cook."

"Scully... what's the occasion?" he asks, racking his brain to try to
remember if he'd forgotten an important anniversary of something.

"Nothing.  Absolutely nothing, Mulder.  Do we have to have an occasion
to treat ourselves to a night together?" she asks, putting the food on
the table.

"Nooooo...  I was just hoping I didn't forget something," he says,
getting a chuckle from her.  He opens the wine as she finishes getting
everything for dinner and as she sits, he lights the candles and turns
down the kitchen lights.

They have a quiet meal, the food and wine excellent, the conversation
light, Mulder's innuendo helping her arousal level and unbeknownst to
him, just what the doctor ordered.

"Mulder, I need to talk to you about something," she says softly.

"Is that what this was all about... you're buttering me up before
telling me something," he says jokingly, but inside he is suddenly
scared to death.

"No.  I wanted to have a nice evening with you and I'm hoping the mood
will help mine if you are understanding what I'm meaning here,
Mulder," she says, slightly apprehensive about telling him about her
conversation with Dr. Langin.

"Yeah, Scully.  I think I get it.  You don't have to do this, you
know.  I'm not pressuring you for intimacy.  I understand that you
don't feel like it," he tells her.

"But Mulder, you don't understand.  It isn't that I don't feel like
it.  Yes, sometimes that is the case--often that's the case.  But even
when I do feel like it, I can't," she says sadly, taking her dishes to
the sink to rinse them. "And I just want to explain to you that the...
lack of my body's response is a side-effect of the chemo, not a lack
of response to you."

"I said I'm not pressuring you, Scully. Jesus, what kind of selfish
asshole do you think I am?" he says, rinsing his dishes as well.

"I didn't say you were pressuring me.  As a matter of fact, you're
doing just the opposite.  I'm beginning to wonder if..." her voice
trials off.

"Wonder if what, Scully?  That I don't want you?  Are you crazy?!" he
says, his voice getting louder.  He is standing in front of her, her
back against the kitchen counter. She looks at him, knowing she has
said something that she truly didn't mean.

Scully stops loading the dishwasher, closing the door without
finishing putting all of the dishes in.  She takes a deep breath and
sighs before looking up at him.  "Mulder, I did not mention this to
start an argument and what I wanted to say didn't exactly come out the
way I intended..." she says softly, a sadness to her voice that Mulder
can barely stand.

"Scully, I'm at a loss here.  I don't know what you want me to do."

"Mulder, you have been everything I could have wanted.  I couldn't
have made it this far without you," she says, laying her head against
his chest.  "I just need to be with you and I hoped we would have
tonight to take our time... I just need to feel like a living human
being, Mulder.  It's been so long..."

He wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back, bending to kiss her
temple.  "Whatever you need, Scully...  Just talk to me," he tells her
quietly, taking the dishtowel from her hand and laying it on the
counter.  He takes her hand and kisses it, continuing to hold it while
he bends to blow out the candles on the table and leads her to the
bedroom.

They undress in silence, Scully not really looking at him, but Mulder
watching her, noticing how her thinness is showing more around her
shoulders, her hips.  She gets in bed and snuggles close to him,
Mulder wrapping her in his arms.  He feels her chuckle against his
chest and moves back slightly to look at her expression.  "What?" he
says, wondering what has made her laugh.

"Mulder, when's the last time we've been in bed before 8:00 to do what
we're going to do?" she says, giving him a small grin.

"Um, that first whole weekend when your doctor released you six weeks
after William was born," he answers, moving to kiss her before
shifting her to her back.  "Didn't think I'd remember, did you?"

"I should have known you would, considering your attention to
details... and sex," she responds, smiling at him.

"I love you, Scully... I hope you know how much," he tells her,
kissing her neck, her shoulder, the top of her right breast.  He holds
her breast in his hand and places a slow, open-mouth kiss to her scar,
an action that makes her throat tighten; her eyes moisten, knowing the
thought behind his gesture.  He licks her nipple, then sucks it into
his mouth, his hand moving over her stomach, her abdomen. His palm is
against her curls and she bends her knee, opening herself to him,
wanting to feel his touch.

Mulder continues to stroke her, finding her dry even though he can
tell she is very aroused by the sounds she is making and the way her
body is moving under him.  "What do you want, Scully..." he says, not
really knowing how to ask her directly what she needs to lubricate.

"You're batting a thousand thus far, Mulder," she mumbles, her breath
quickening as he slips a finger inside her. Mulder moves down her
body, kissing and licking his way down to the vee between her legs.  
She bends her other knee and when he is positioned between her legs,
she lays both her legs over his shoulders.

"Oh, god, Mulder..." she sighs, the feeling of his lips and tongue
against her soft flesh absolutely wonderful.  He licks her, flicks his
tongue against her clitoris, sucking it into his mouth as he slips a
second finger inside her, moving them in and out of her. But she is
only minimally wet, not sufficiently so to progress to anything more.

"Scully, help me out here..." he says softly to her, truly at a loss
as to what else to do.

"Stroke my g-spot, Mulder," she tells him quietly, hoping that it
works.  He bends his fingers, not exactly knowing where it is, but
remembering that when he's hit it before, her body will definitely let
him know.  "A little deeper, I think," she says, her voice barely a
whisper.

Mulder takes her clitoris in his mouth and sucks hard as he moves his
fingers into her more deeply, rubbing the top of her vagina firmly.  
Suddenly her hips buck and her gasp sounds almost like a scream in the
silence of their dark bedroom.  He feels her inner muscles grab his
fingers, then begin to pulse as he continues to suck her hardened
tissue.

"Jesus..." she says when she is finally able to speak.  He continues
to stroke her lightly as he moves up over her to look at her.

"Good?" he smiles, happy that she is not only now wet, but was also
able to climax.

"God, I've missed that," she says, lifting her head from the pillow to
kiss him.  He moves over her and she helps him to enter her, neither
of them moving because of the tremendous sensations they are both
feeling. He continues to look into her eyes until, finally, he begins
to move, her eyes closing at the sensation.

Mulder's orgasm is intense, but he finds himself holding back
physically, not wanting to be too forceful.  They are laying in each
others' arms, moving their bodies slowly against the other, their
hands moving lazily over each other's sex-warmed skin.  "That felt
sooooo good," she tells him sleepily.

"I'm glad you had a good time, Scully," he teases her, reaching to
squeeze her bottom. "I'm glad you're feeling better."  She kisses his
chest, realizing what he really means. She knows that her illness is,
at least, as hard on him as it is on her; that he feels lost at times,
not really understanding what she is feeling.

She is almost sleeping and Mulder is close when he hears his cell
phone ringing from somewhere in another room.  Suddenly he remembers
where he is supposed to be and moves to get out from under her, trying
not to disturb her.  He steals out of bed and hurries to find his
phone.

"Mulder," he says quietly.

"Hey, man.  Where are you?" Langly asks.

"Shit!  I... a... got delayed.  I'll be there in twenty," he says and
turns off the phone, pivoting to return to the bedroom to dress. But
as soon as he looks up, he sees Scully standing in the bedroom
doorway, loosely tying the belt of her robe.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" she asks, the suspicion in her voice
very apparent.

"I have to leave, Scully.  Uh... it's a lead that I've been trying to
get and I need to go to New York," he tells her, not really lying but
not telling her the real truth either.

"But, Mulder...  Why now?  I haven't heard you mention any case in New
York..." she says, moving closer to him, turning on an under counter
light in the kitchen to see him better.

"I'm sorry, Scully, but I've got to go.  This isn't something that can
wait," he says, bending to give her a quick kiss as he heads for the
bedroom to dress.  Scully knows he isn't telling her the whole story,
that he is hiding something.  She stands there with her arms crossed;
staring at the floor, thinking to herself how she guessed it had been
too much to ask that this kind of behavior was behind him... behind
them.

ABANDONED WAREHOUSE
NEW YORK CITY, NY
Four hours later

Mulder had hit up an old friend who owed him a favor, several
actually, and he and the Lone Gunmen had taken a little late night
helicopter ride, getting them to New York in record time.  When they
arrived at the address the Gunmen had traced as belonging to Mulder's
mysterious caller, the building looked as abandoned as abandoned could
look. So either whoever had called had scrambled the signal somehow or
the Gunmen were losing their hacking abilities in a major way.

"Nobody's been in here since the Reagan era," Frohike says as they
wander through the dust and cobwebs, searching for anything that might
provide information.

"Yeah, it looks like a dead end, Mulder," Byers notes, shining his
flashlight to the ceiling, looking around for any sign that someone
had been here recently.  Mulder looked in every corner, checked every
door and had, reluctantly, come up with the same conclusion.

Mulder checks one last door knob, finding the door locked. He easily
picks the lock, opening it to find nothing but an ordinary closet, the
built-in shelves essentially empty except for a lone pencil sharpener.
Mulder was almost ready to move out of the small room when the beam of
his flashlight caught something shiny, a door hinge, on the back wall
behind the shelves.  "Hey, you guys.  I think there's a door in here,"
he yells to them, already removing the shelves from the wall, indeed
revealing a door.

The door opens easily, revealing a dark stairwell, evidently leading
to a lower level.  Mulder heads down the stairs first, shining his
flashlight into the basement and when he reaches the bottom of the
stairs, the sight is a true surprise.  There is an expensively
decorated lobby, completed with computers, phone systems and filing
cabinets. "Holy shit," Mulder says to no one in particular.

"There's a bit of dust on everything, but somebody's been using this
place fairly recently," Byers notes.  There are several doors down the
hall, each to an equally expensively decorated office, one leading to
a large meeting room, complete with a small bar and kitchenette.

"There's a lot of money in this place," Frohike says, touching the
rich wood paneling of the board room.  "And somebody's worked hard to
hide down here."

Langly is pulling out random file drawers, all full of files,
apparently left just as they were the last time anyone was here. "Hey,
this desk calendar is September, 2001. Looks like no one has been
working here for, what, seven months or so," Langly points out.

"Look, you guys, I've got to get back to Washington, but we need to
get all of the hard drives out of here tonight.  We can come back
later and get the hard copies in the files. It doesn't look like
anybody's been checking on things too lately," Mulder says,
immediately turning a computer terminal around to take it apart, his
hope soaring that he'll find something... anything that might help
Scully.

J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, DC
Four days later, 11:32am

"Agent Mulder, I'm wondering if you are still working for us or
running your own business on the side," Skinner says to him, the
irritation evident in his voice.  "Your phone records indicate that
you have had thirty eight incoming calls, just in the last two days
and have placed over fifty out-going calls...  You mind telling me
what you are up to, Mulder?"

"Sir, I've been working on several cases..."

"Cut the crap.  What's going on?" Skinner asks again, the ire rising
in his voice. "Mulder, people are watching you. Just because Kersch is
gone, doesn't mean there aren't others who would like to see your work
shut down, you know."

"I know that, Sir.  I'm hesitant to get you involved in this.  Scully
doesn't even know about it," Mulder says to Skinner's questioning
look.  "It... I may be onto something that could help Scully," Mulder
finally admits.

Skinner's phone rings and he gives Mulder a chastising stare before
reaching to answer it.  "Skinner," he says, still staring at Mulder.  
"Yes... Right away..." he says, the expression on his face changing
180 degrees in a matter of a few seconds.  "Mulder, that was
Georgetown Memorial; Scully collapsed and they've got her in ER,"
Skinner barely able to get his last words out before Mulder disappears
out the door.

GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
EMERGENCY ROOM
11:56am

"Cheryl, I'm fine, really," Scully tells her as the others in the ER
fret over her, checking her vitals, elevating her feet, hooking her up
to more monitors than she realized existed.  Scully had been teaching
class, having had her last treatment for the week earlier that
morning.  Her nausea afterward had been fairly routine for her, not an
easy day, but not a particularly bad one either.  She had been bending
over a cadaver's face, pointing out what unique variations in
petechiae in the eyes means regarding the pressure used in strangling
when she suddenly felt a flush, staggered a couple of steps and
collapsed to the floor.

She had been taken to the hospital by ambulance, not really rousing
fully until being given smelling salt on her way to the ambulance.  
She had resisted going in the ambulance, but had felt faint again and
acquiesced, her episode beginning to scare even her.

"Mulder is on his way, Dana," Cheryl tells her, before telling the ER
staff what tests she wants run.  "Did you have much nausea today?"

"No more than usual," Scully says, wincing as the phlebotomist
inserted the needle to take a blood sample.

"Dana, talk to me.  Don't make me drag it out of you, please...," Dr.
Langin says, losing her patience at Scully's attempts to downplay her
problems.

"Scully?" the voice interrupts their interchange.

"Mulder..." Scully says, reaching her hand out for him as Mulder moves
to the side of her gurney.

"Scully, what happened?" he asks as he bends to give her a soft kiss.

"Maybe you can get her to tell you," Dr. Langin tells him, her
irritation at Scully still present.  Mulder looks at her, then at
Scully again, not sure what is going on and just wanting to find out
if Scully is alright.

"I fainted... I was teaching class, not feeling too badly, actually
fairly good for my last day of treatment.  I felt a flush and then
just dropped.  End of story," she tells them both, hoping to just
finish and get out of there and home to her baby.

"Dana, I'd like you to stay tonight, until I get the results back from
everything.  I'm kind of stumped as to why you fainted," Cheryl tells
her, her tone much softer now, knowing why Scully is trying to
downplay everything.

"Cheryl, I'll stay until you get my blood work back, but I want to be
in my own home tonight.  If you need me back tomorrow, then I'll come
in.  Mulder will be with me," Scully says plainly.

"Scully, maybe you should do as your doctor says," Mulder tells her
softly.

"I don't want to stay in this hospital until... if I don't have to,"
Scully says, her voice beginning to break.

"I should have some results in an hour or so, Dana.  I'll leave
instructions at the desk for them to let you go, but please come by my
office before you do.  Okay?" Cheryl tells her softly, touching
Mulder's shoulder as she moves to leave.

OFFICE OF CHERYL LANGIN
GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
50 minutes later

"I think you should take a leave from work, Dana," Cheryl tells her up
front.  Scully looks at her hands, knowing that this was coming, just
not wanting it to be this soon. "Your blood count is low and your
anemia has worsened, probably from throwing up.  I think you haven't
been telling me how much emesis you've actually had, Dana, so I didn't
expect the test results I got today," Cheryl says firmly, but not
chastising her friend.  "I know it's hard to admit your problems, to
relinquish control.  But in order to treat you properly, you need to
be forthcoming, Dana," she finishes.

"I realize that... I do.  I apologize, Cheryl," Scully tells her
sincerely, looking at her, remorse apparent in her eyes. "I've been
struggling to keep everything 'normal' and they aren't.  They just
aren't."

"I'll start you on Epogen to boost your blood and give you Compazine
for your nausea and you know you probably shouldn't drive when you
take it," Dr. Langin told her. Mulder hadn't spoken, not really
knowing what to say, how to react until he had a chance to talk to
Scully privately. But he knew this was a blow to her; she had been
trying so hard to keep going, to put up a good front. Scully always
had a hard time when she was found out.

They weren't saying much on the drive home, William falling asleep
soon after they had picked him up at her mother's. It was raining, the
rhythmic beat of windshield wipers almost hypnotizing, the sound of
the spattering rain making her begin to doze, leaning her head against
the headrest and fall asleep......

......"And all the choices would then lead to this very moment," she
heard him say as she sat close to him, so tired she was beginning to
doze. "One wrong turn and we wouldn't be sitting here together...  
Well, that says a lot... says a lot, a lot, a lot," his voice echoing
in tandem with the rhythmic gurgling of the fish tank as she fell
asleep.  "I mean that's probably more than we should be getting into
at this late hour," she heard his voice trail off as sleep overtook
her. She felt him touch her face; lay the blanket carefully over her
before he got up from the couch.

Scully had told him everything, admitted to an illicit affair with a
med school instructor, an event that almost ruined her young life.  
They talked about how that event had to have happened, as had all of
their life events, in order for them to reach the very point of where
they were; there together.

Scully had fallen asleep and Mulder had covered her, allowing her to
rest, finding her awake but still sitting there when he went to check
on her over an hour later. "You're awake..." he said, sitting down
next to her again.

"Yeah, I have been for awhile.  I thought you were sleeping; I didn't
hear anything," she told him, her head still reclining against the
back of the couch.

"No, I was just thinking..." he said softly to her, his eyes never
leaving hers.

"About what?" she asked, but somehow knowing the answer.

"About us... you," he said, a peaceful seriousness to his voice, his
expression, she had never quite seen before.

"Yeah, me, too," she admitted, both of them saying so much more to
each other with their eyes, with what they weren't saying.

"I think we both feel the same way about why we are here, at this time
in our lives... together," he said to her, his face close enough to
hers for her to feel his breath. Scully reached up and touched his
face, her small smile confirming that she felt that everything they
had been through had led them to that very moment; that the time was
right. Mulder moved to kiss her, softly at first until Scully moved
her hand behind his neck, deepening the kiss.

"Scully, I love you... I've loved you for a very long time..." he told
her, looking deeply into her eyes.  She smiled at him, her eyes
glistening with unshed tears as she stroked his face, seeing the love
he felt for her in every aspect of his expression.

"And I love you, Mulder...  I love you..." They kissed again, Mulder
moving closer to her, wrapping her in his arms, holding her close.

"Stay tonight, Scully.  I need you..." he whispered in her ear.  She
kissed him softly, her small smile telling him that she hadn't planned
to leave.

They had made love that night, of course, both of them having known
for a long time that someday they would finally be together. It hadn't
been tentative, not even at first, the two of them knowing each other
so well; they felt more comfortable than they ever had together or
with anyone else.

"God, Mulder, I love you," she had told him after she climaxed, after
she was able to speak again.  She wrapped her leg over his back, moved
with him until he finished, his body almost collapsing onto her before
he held her, moving to his side.  She had cried, not hiding her
emotion from him, wanting him to see how profound that moment was to
her.

"Scully..." was all he said to her afterward, the deep timbre of his
voice against her ear manifesting physically throughout her body...
gooseflesh, a shudder, a throb.  The soft breeze wafted in through his
window, cooling their heated bodies as they held each other. Neither
of them realized they had just created a life, the life of their
precious son......

......"Mamamamama," she hears William babble in her ear, Mulder
holding him to her through the car door, her son's sounds waking her
from her reminisce.

"Scully, we're home," Mulder says to her, helping her out of the car
as he holds William on his hip.  He carries William into the
apartment, keeping a close eye on Scully, still not sure how she is
actually feeling. The phone was ringing when they got into the house,
Mulder shifting William to his other arm to reach for it.  "Mulder,"
he answers.

"Mulder, we've hit the mother lode!" Frohike tells him, the excitement
evident in his voice.  "The third hard drive we got into has more shit
on it than you could ever shovel. This 'manufacturing' company Mr.
Limey owns is actually in cahoots with some of our old syndicate
friends.  We're still working on cracking the encryption, but... we've
found Scully's name in here... and your sister's..." he finishes
slowly.

"We've got to find this man... I have to know what he knows," Mulder
says emotionally. "And, Frohike, we may not have much time."

HOME OF CHARLES EASTMAN
LONDON, ENGLAND
Three days later

"I've dialed the number for you, sir," the assistant informs him and
hands the well manicured man the telephone.

"Mr. Mulder..." he says, a small smile crossing his lips.

"I've been waiting for your call," Mulder tells him on the other end,
answering his cell phone in his car.

"Good work, my friend.  You haven't disappointed me," he tells Mulder
smugly.

"What do you know about Scully?" Mulder demands, not wanting the man
to realize that Mulder would do anything to find out what he knows.

"I know all that is necessary to cure her, Mr. Mulder.  But we need to
negotiate..." he tells him, knowing that he still has the upper hand.

"Negotiate for what?  What do you want?" Mulder snaps, his impatience
showing.  Mulder pulls over just before reaching the parking garage of
the Hoover Building, not wanting to jeopardize his cell signal.

"I want everything you have found in that warehouse destroyed.  The
whole lot of it, including everything you've already removed and the
warehouse itself.  And trust me, Mr. Mulder; I will know if you don't
live up to your end of the bargain."

"And why should I trust you?" Mulder asks him, trying to sound like he
wasn't as scared as he actually was.  "I don't know who you are or
where you are."

"I don't care whether you trust me or not, Mr. Mulder.  With me, you,
at least, have hope.  I'll contact you after you've completed your
work.  And remember, if you don't do as I ask, there is only one
definite result-- Miss Scully will die...," he finishes, the line
going dead.  Mulder immediately turns his car around, squealing his
tires as he heads toward the Gunmen's place.

Continued in Pt. 3

TITLE: Remembering Now, Pt. 3-5
AUTHOR: Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17
E-MAIL: philer@onemain.com



MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Later that evening

"Here, Scully, let me do that," Mulder says to her, moving quickly in
front of her to lift William from his playpen.

"I've got him, Mulder.  I'm not totally helpless," she answers, a
sharp edge to her voice.

"Fine.  When you drop him, come get me then, will you?  I'll pick him
up off the floor."

"I'm not going to drop him, Mulder!  Do you think I'd harm my own
child?!" she tells him, her voice rising to a level that even William
notices.  They had been irritable with each other the last few days,
Scully's mood quiet and distant since she had had to give up her work.

"Scully, why won't you let me help you?" he says, running his hand
through his hair in exasperation.

"Why won't you let me do what I can for myself?  Why do you always
have to treat me like I'm sick?!" she says, her voice finally
reflecting her feelings.

"Because you are!  There's no crime in being sick, you know," he says,
sitting down on the couch, watching her struggle to hold their
wriggling son.  He puts his face into his hands, "I don't know what to
do, Scully.  I'm just trying... to... be there for you... Just because
I want to do things for you does not mean I view you as less of a
person, as less of a woman," his voice trails off, almost breaking.  
"Just tell me what to do..."

Scully stands there watching him, now feeling totally awful, realizing
again that her illness isn't just happening to her.  She hands William
to him, unable to control her emotions any longer and goes to the
bedroom, closing the door.  She lays on the bed, burying her face in
the down pillow, her sobs overtaking her.  Her entire body is wracked
with emotion, a whirlpool of feelings that she doesn't have the energy
to sort.  She suddenly realizes that she can't do it alone anymore,
emotionally or physically and arguing with the one person who gives
her reason to go on...

"Scully?" Mulder calls, sitting next to her on the bed. "William just
told me he wants his mommy to get in the tub with him for his bath,"
he says quietly to her, rubbing her back softly.  Scully turns to look
at him, reaching for a tissue from the bedside table before rolling to
her back, her son scrambling to go to her. She kisses her son, but
smiles at Mulder, more words in her eyes than her voice could ever
tell him.

"You get in the tub, Scully, and I'll bring him in and you can bathe
him... Then we'll both get him down," he tells her, taking William
from her, moving to the bathroom. She recognizes that he understands;
making what efforts he knows how to make to let her do what she can,
while still doing what he feels he needs to do.  And she loves him all
the more for it.

Later, William has been bathed, fed and put down, hopefully, for the
night and both of them worked to accomplish the nightly ritual. Mulder
is already in bed, his attention drifting from the late news to
watching Scully, applying her facial cream, combing her hair.  "I'm
not sure how much longer I'll be a 'natural' redhead," she says
jokingly, but, he recognizes, isn't really joking.  He crawls out of
bed, moving behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. "Look at
this," she says; holding her hairbrush up for him to see how full it
is of her hair.  "I don't think our efforts to prevent total loss of
my hair are going to work."

"You'll always be beautiful to me... natural redhead or not," he says,
accentuating the natural.  She turns in his arms to look at him,
breaking when seeing the love he has for her in his eyes, knowing that
it would never make any difference to him if she lost her hair.  He
holds her, not saying anything-not really knowing what to say-- just
letting her cry.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she finally says, moving to get another
tissue.

"It's over, Scully...history," he says to her, wanting to just forget
about their argument.

"No, Mulder, I need to explain something to you; I need you to
understand," her voice still trembling as her body leans against the
dresser.  "I can't work; I can't breastfeed anymore, I... I can barely
make love with you anymore... I feel like I am just existing..."

"Scully, that's not true," he says quickly, reaching to hold her
again.

"Whatever I can still do, I NEED to do, Mulder... It's all I have
left," she sobs, Mulder tightening his embrace.

"I realize that, Scully... I do," he tells her softly.  "But I feel
helpless, too.  I try to do what I can for you, but I feel like I'm
doing nothing.  I need to feel like I'm doing something, too,
Scully..."

"Mulder...you are...I couldn't go on if it weren't for you," she says,
looking up at him, her tongue wiping across her lips.  "And I do need
you...more than you obviously realize."  She kisses him, slowly,
firmly, wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling her body against
his.

They get into bed, Mulder clicking the TV off with the remote before
he moves further into the bed to lie next to Scully.  "Doin' okay?" he
asks softly, her face barely visible in the darkened room.

"Better..." she smiles at him.  They look at each other, allowing
their eyes to adjust to the darkness, now able to see each other more
clearly.  She sees an internal dialogue going on behind his eyes and
wonders what he is thinking, wanting to say.  "What is it, Mulder?"

"I love you...need you so much, Scully," he tells her softly, his fear
for her health apparent in his eyes.

"Mulder... I want you... I want to try..." she whispers to him,
wanting to make love with him so badly she can feel her body begin to
tremble.

"Are you sure?" he asks tentatively, his fingers stroking her face.  
Her nod is his permission to undress her, something that is difficult
for him, him able to see the sharper edges to her body, even in the
dim light.  Her body feels chilled until he removes his boxers and
nestles in closer to her, wrapping his arms around her to pull her on
top of him.  They kiss, for several long minutes, just enjoying the
closeness, the soft feel of each others' lips, tongues.

Mulder shifts them to their sides, holding her gently as he lays her
to her back.  "Tell me what to do, Scully.  What you need..." he says
to her between kisses, between caresses.

"I won't break, Mulder..." she tells him, her palm against his face as
she gives him a slight smile.  "But I think we're going to need a
little help," she says, remembering that she has some jelly she used
to use with her diaphragm.

"Scully, I don't know another guy who can get over here that quickly,"
he teases her.

"Well, as inviting as that option sounds, I was thinking more along
the lines of lubricant, Mulder," she retorts to his brand of humor.
"There's some spermicidal jelly in my nightstand."  He reaches over
her to open the small drawer, his fingers fiddling through the
contents searching for the feel of a tube.

"Now, what do I do?" he asks innocently, holding the tube up for her
to see.

"Spread it on a cracker and enjoy," she quips deadpan. "What do you
think you do with it, Mulder?"  She takes it from him and removes the
cap, setting it on the nightstand. She squeezes a generous amount into
her palm and reaches for him, smoothing the cool liquid over his
length.  "Now, it's your turn," she tells him softly, handing him the
tube.

"I don't have a cracker," he says, smiling at her as he squeezes a
dollop onto his fingers, tossing the tube who knows where.  She bends
one knee, opening herself to him and he spreads the gel onto her
folds, then inserting his lubricated fingers into her.

"Now, before it dries," she prompts him, reaching her arms around his
neck, kissing the front of his throat.  He looks at her for any signs
that she has changed her mind and enters her slowly, the lubrication
making it easy, feeling like it always had.

"Mmmmmmm, Scully," Mulder murmurs, his voice low and breathy as he
begins to move.  His thrusts are slow but he pushes in deeply, hoping
she is feeling as good as he is feeling. "Okay?" he asks softly.

"Yesssss," she answers, the feel of them together everything she
needs.  He is up on his elbows, careful not to put too much weight on
her, his movements becoming more rapid.  He can tell by the cadence of
her breathing, her panting, that she is getting close.  He lifts her
knee, moving it up and outward, a move that usually gets her where she
wants to go.

But he hears her gasp and not a gasp that he recognizes as a good
gasp.  "Mulder, no..." she tells him as she moves her knee out of his
grasp, placing her foot back flat on the bed.

"What do you need, Scully?" he asks her, moving against her, trying to
find another way to help her to climax.

"I don't think it's going to happen for me, Mulder," she tells him,
her voice becoming somewhat strained.  "I'm okay..."

"Sure?" he asks, feeling his orgasm starting to spiral in the small of
his back.

"Yeah... Uhhhh, no, Mulder.  No...  It's hurting... I... Oh, please
stop," she asks quickly, Mulder immediately withdrawing and moving to
turn onto his side to look at her. He sees the somewhat pained look on
her face as well as her efforts to hide it.

"What is it, Scully?  Are you alright?" he asks, an urgency to his
voice, a fear that he has hurt her.

"I... I don't know.  Everything was fine and then, all of a sudden, I
had pain..." she says, trying not to let him see how sharp the pain
still is.

"Are you okay now?" he asks, sitting up to turn the bedside lamp on,
to look at her.

"It... it's still hurting a little bit; kind of a cramping in my lower
abdomen."

Mulder moves the covers down and smoothes his palm slowly over her
abdomen, hoping it will help in some small way. "Better?"

"Yeah, I think so," she smiles to him, his hand not helping nearly as
much as his effort to comfort her.  "I'm sorry, Mulder..." she tells
him, truly sad that their lovemaking couldn't continue.

"Sorry?  Jesus, Scully, that's the least of my worries."  He notices
that there are tears in her eyes, now realizing what their foiled
attempt to make love signifies to her.  "It's okay, Scully..." he
tells her, moving to lay next to her, not really knowing what else to
say to her.  She reaches for him and he draws her to his body,
wrapping his arms around her tightly as she cries into his chest.

"Why did this have to happen to us?  Why at this point in our lives?"
she sadly cries.

"I don't know, Scully.  I guess because, as the saying goes, life is
what happens when you're busy making other plans," he says, truly not
meaning to sound flippant, but afraid he has.

"I don't think I can go through this again, Mulder... not now... now
that we have William.  I just can't," she tells him, her body shaking
from her sobs.

"We're gonna get through this, Scully.  I promise..." he whispers to
her, telling himself he will find his British friend and Scully's
cure.  He has to...

OFFICE OF THE LONE GUNMEN
SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, DC 
The next morning, 7:31am

Mulder had arrived before Langly or Frohike were awake, telephoning
Byers just after he left his apartment.  Scully seemed fine when she
woke, but Mulder had called her mother before he left and asked her to
come over to stay with her and to help with William.  She told him she
hadn't had any more pain, but she seemed to be moving a bit slower
than she had been.  He hadn't said anything to her mother about her
pain the previous night, not really knowing how to tell her how it
started.  He thought he'd leave that up to Scully.

"You guys, I need all of the hard drives and any information you've
gotten off of them put back in that warehouse-- as soon as we can get
it there," he tells them bluntly.

"What?  Have you finally lost your last screw, Mulder?" Frohike asks
him.  "Why the hell would you want to do that?"

"Because our Mr. Eastman contacted me.  He told me if we destroyed
everything, he would give me a cure for Scully..." Mulder tells them,
knowing they would form the same priority that he had.

"He has a cure for Scully?" Byers asks, unsure why Mulder is so
convinced.

"Why else would he contact me?  He could get anyone to destroy that
warehouse.  He helped me to save Scully before and for some unknown
reason, he seems to be wanting to do it again," Mulder explains.  "I
guess he just wants me to pay for it and insure himself that what he
wants will be done and never heard about again."

"How do you know this dude isn't just yanking your string?" Langly
adds.

"I guess I don't.  But it's the only option, possibly our only hope at
this point.  If I don't do whatever he asks, then he doesn't help
me... help Scully," Mulder says, defeat in his voice that all three of
the others notice.  "I can't risk not doing it."

"Just tell us what you want us to do," Byers says plainly.

Mulder looks at his three motley friends, realizing how much he needs
and appreciates their loyalty.  "Know any demolition experts...?"

GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
WASHINGTON, DC
Two hours later

Margaret had arrived soon after Mulder had left, finding her daughter
and grandson lying on the bed, Scully not looking too well. Margaret
had immediately taken William and gotten Scully some Tylenol and
ginger ale, hoping that she would feel better.  But about an hour
later, Scully had called for her mother and asked her to call Mulder
home. She felt like she needed to go to the hospital; her pain had
returned and she was bleeding.

Mulder arrived home and had taken Scully to the ER, calling her doctor
from the car.  Dr. Langin had met them in ER, immediately ordering
several tests and then sending Scully for an MRI.  Mulder stayed with
her through all of it, never leaving her side until she slid into the
tube of the imaging machine.

Scully had been taken back to an exam room, several other tests still
needing to be completed, including a complete pelvic exam. "God,
Scully, that was barbaric," Mulder says after sitting with her during
the examination.  "You go through that every year?"

"Since about age nineteen, yeah," she chuckles, finding his reaction
to the exam fairly humorous.

"Really makes my dental phobia seem like a bunch of horseshit, doesn't
it?" he jokes. She laughs heartily, looking at his expression,
reaching to touch his face.

"I love you," she tells him, just as Dr. Langin walks back into the
room.  Scully moves to sit up on the exam table, her legs hanging over
the end; Mulder stands next to her, taking her hand in his.

"I don't really find anything significant, Dana, but I'll be honest
with you, I don't find anything improving either," Dr. Langin says to
her, pulling up a chair to sit closer to them.  "The treatment we are
giving you should, at least, be keeping your cancer at bay... but it
isn't..." a true sadness to her voice.  Mulder squeezes Scully's hand,
feeling like his knees are just going to give out, moving slightly to
lean against the exam table.  "I've consulted several other
Physicians, Dana, and all of them are equally stumped.  And,
unfortunately, as sick as your treatments are making you, coupled with
your bleeding and what your labs show, I think we need to titrate your
chemo a bit and reduce the roentgens of your radiation."

"Cheryl, maybe we should just discontinue the treatments..." Scully
says, surprising both Mulder and her doctor.  "If they aren't working
at a higher dose, then they surely aren't going to do anything at a
lower dose... except make me a little less sick...if I'm lucky."

"Scully... please..." Mulder says, not really knowing why he is asking
her not to consider stopping her treatments.

"Mulder, it grieves me to have to say this, but I essentially agree
with Dana," Dr. Langin tells them.

"Essentially?" Mulder asks, wondering what aspect of Scully's
conclusions she may not be agreeing with.

"We have one other combination of drugs, one drug being experimental,
that we could try, but it has more of a potential to make you ill,
Dana.  We won't know until we get into it," she speaks to them both.

Scully looks at Mulder, ready to tell him that she doesn't want to
continue with any type of treatment until she sees the look in his
eyes and can't bear it.  He is so lost, but his glimmer of hope that
she will keep fighting shows in the viridescent depths of his sad
eyes.  Scully's lips begin to quiver, her attempt not to cry obvious
to Mulder and Dr. Langin, and she buries her face in her hands,
finally letting her tears go.

Mulder moves to crouch down in front of her and places a hand on her
shoulder, his other on her thigh.  "Scully, let's go home and discuss
this...think about it," he says softly to her, trying to sooth her
with his voice and his touch.  She reaches for him and he moves up
enough to hold her, to bury her sobs against his shoulder.  "We'll get
through this, Scully..."

MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Later that evening

"You want anything else?" Margaret asks her, setting Scully's warm tea
on the coffee table.

"Mom, you don't have to wait on me," Scully tells her as she continues
to rub William's back, finally getting him to sleep.  Scully is
half-reclining on the couch, her feet up and her back relaxed against
several pillows. William is lying against her, his head resting softly
against her breast, both enjoying the warmth, Scully needing the
comfort of her child.

"Dana, please, let me do for you, okay?  I want to be here to help
you..." Margaret says, sitting down on the end of the couch. Scully
looks at her sadly, dreading what she needs to talk to her about,
feeling so very sorry for her mother at this moment.

"And you have been, Mom... helpful.  I couldn't be doing this without
you... and Mulder.  Which, by the way, where is he?" Scully asks,
shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

"Here I am--all bright and shiny," he says goofily as he comes into
the living room fresh from his shower, pulling his t-shirt on over his
head.  "William finally go to sleep?"

"Yeah, about five minutes ago," Scully smiles, bending to kiss her
son's head.

"Want me to put him down?" Mulder asks, moving toward her on the
couch.

"No, I want him here for awhile," Scully smiles, Mulder knowing
immediately why.  She had told him on the way home from the hospital
that she wanted her mother to be a part of the discussion about her
treatments, since the decision affected her, too.

Mulder moved behind Scully asking her to lean forward before replacing
the pillows behind her back with himself, cradling her and William in
his arms, Scully leaning against his chest.

"Mom, I..., we need to talk to you about something," Scully starts,
looking directly at her mother, her son wiggling a bit against her.  
She relates what had happened at the hospital earlier and the options
available at this point, limited at they were.

"Dana, you've got to give yourself this chance," her mother pleads,
wanting her to try one last chance with the experimental drug.  "I'll
be here with you.  I'll help with William.  I'll move in if you need
me to..."

"Scully, I have to say I agree with your mother.  You can't give up,"
he tells her, his voice close to her ear.  He is relieved that he is
sitting behind her so that he cannot see her at that moment.  His
guilt is palatable to him, feeling that he is betraying her by not
telling her of the long shot of getting another cure for her.  And he
feels doubly guilty that, again, she has come into harms way because
of her association with him, that someone is manipulating the chip in
her neck, actually causing her cancer again.

"I'm not giving up, Mulder.  I'm just being realistic," she tells him
rationally.  "I don't see the point in continuing with something that
is doing nothing for me except making me sick." She leans her head
against Mulder's chest as William struggles to sit up, Mulder reaching
around to help him settle onto Scully's lap.

"Will you, at least, agree to try the experimental combination that
Cheryl mentioned?" he asks softly.

"Please, Dana.  Please..." her mother interjects.

Scully doesn't answer immediately, instead looking down at her smiling
child on her lap, knowing she owes him every effort she can make to be
with him as long as she can. "I'll try it.  But only if it begins to
work; if we see some change.  If we don't, I'll stop it," she tells
them, her voice adamant.

"Thank you," Mulder tells her, bending to kiss her cheek. Her mother
smiles to her, her approval and relief written on her face as she goes
to answer the ringing phone.

"Yes, just a moment," she says, handing the phone to Mulder.

"Mulder," he says, wondering who would be calling him.

"Sorry to call you at the apartment, Mulder, but I've been trying to
reach your cell phone for hours," Byers tells him. Mulder notices his
phone lying on the table behind the couch, also noticing the reading
indicating 'no battery' on it as well.

"Sorry.  Let me get Scully's cell and call you back," he says,
clicking off the phone quickly.

A few moments later, Mulder is in the bedroom, talking to Byers again,
Scully and her mother still in the living room with William.  "So what
have you got?"

"Our 'expert' has a plan; all he needs is a bit of up-front financing
and we can move on it, Mulder," Byers tells him.

"What's the plan?" Mulder asks, knowing that he'll only get an
outline, the specifics left up to the guys and their 'expert'.

Mulder hears movement in the background and Frohike speaks into the
speaker-phone to answer his question.  "Mr. Expert can make sure that
everything disappears and that no one, except maybe a stray alley cat,
is harmed.  The whole neighborhood is abandoned, so I think he feels
like he'll be getting paid for a day in the park."

"This is someone we can trust?" Mulder asks, hoping against hope that
they'll be able to pull this off.

"Definitely.  Neither you nor the FBI need ever be mentioned.  We just
need the green light from you and we'll get started setting things up
for D-Day," Frohike says.

"You've got it," Mulder tells him, his voice self-assured. "Stay in
touch..."

OFFICE OF WALTER SKINNER 
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING 
The next morning

"I need your help, sir," Mulder tells him, the leather of the chair
squeaking as he fidgets in it.

"What now, Mulder?" Skinner asks skeptically, tossing a file he had
been reviewing to his desk.

"It concerns Scully..." Mulder continues, unable to look directly at
him, but knowing that just the mention of Scully's name will garner
Skinner's immediate attention.  He feels only slightly guilty using
this tactic and certainly not guilty enough not to do it.

"Is she alright?  Has something happened?" Skinner asks, his immediate
concern evident.

"No, she isn't alright; she isn't responding to her treatments,"
Mulder says, barely able to form the words.

"What do you need from me?" Skinner asks carefully.

Mulder tells him everything; the mysterious phone calls, the
warehouse; the information found on the hard drives; all of the
evidence that may answer so many other questions except how to save
Scully.  Then he tells him about the possibility of getting another
chip to save her if he destroys everything in New York.

Skinner listens intently, his reaction to Mulder's plot impossible to
discern.  "Does Scully know about this?" he asks.

"No... I didn't want to get her hopes up, to dredge up old fears,
memories..." he says, still unsure if this has been the best path, but
already too far down it to turn back at this point.  "Not until I know
for sure."

Then finally, Skinner moves around the desk to sit in the chair next
to Mulder, 'Scully's chair', Mulder thinks, and speaks.  "Tell me when
and where, Mulder and I'll do what I can do to make it all go away..."

MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT 
GEORGETOWN, DC 
Four days later, 11:02pm

This was the second day of Scully's new treatment and her tolerance of
it had been, thus far, fairly good; no nausea, but no appetite either.  
Her mother had stayed last night and was planning to stay until Scully
or Mulder sent her home.  Scully's energy level continued to be low,
so her mother and Mulder had taken care of William's needs, Scully
able to spend a little time with him when he settled a bit. He was
walking a little, holding onto the furniture for balance, even taking
a few steps before he'd fall on his well-padded bottom. It was at
these times that he had become too much for her to handle and it
saddened her beyond words that she couldn't play with him anymore,
that her time with him had been relegated only to those times that he
was almost ready for sleep.

"Need anything before I get into bed?" Mulder asks her.

"No, I'm fine," she answers from her recline on the bed, smiling to
him as she watches him dress, putting on a pair of pajama bottoms
since her mother was staying with them. "Mulder, you don't have to
wear those; just use your robe."

"Better not.  My ass might hang out from under the blankets or
something.  You wouldn't want your Mom to see my naked butt, would
you, Scully?" he teases as he crawls in bed beside her, turning off
the light.

"No.  That belongs to me," she tells him quietly, moving to snuggle up
next to him, laying her head on his bare chest.

"Damn right," he kids her in his best macho voice as he wraps his arms
around her. "Scully..." he sighs, feeling how thin she is, how sharp
her soft edges have become. "How much weight have you lost?" he asks
her quietly.

"Let's put it this way--if I lose any more, I'll be down to double
digits," she says, Mulder not finding her dry humor all that humorous.  
He continues to smooth his hands over her, feeling as if this will
somehow help her.  "That feels good..." she tells him, snuggling
closer to him.

"Wanna talk or sleep?" he asks, kissing the top of her head.

"You talk.  I just wanna hear your voice..." she says, kissing his
chest, her fatigue evident in her tone.  There are several long
moments of silence before the hush is broken by her quiet voice.  
"Tell me about the best day of your life, Mulder..."

"Every one with you, Scully... I've had all of my best days with
you...and William.  But I'll tell you about one, one just for us.  It
was a few days after I came home from the hospital, after you'd
brought me back from the dead," he chuckles.  "We'd had a bit of a
hard time those first few days, not knowing what to say to each other.  
I was shocked about your pregnancy, didn't know where I fit in," he
continues softly, his voice quiet and soothing to her.

"I remember I came to your apartment, very late, as I recall, and when
you answered the door, you were wearing silk pajamas, kind of a deep
rose color.  And I thought you looked absolutely beautiful and
remember thinking... that your breasts were absolutely huge."  He
hears Scully snicker, feels her breath against his chest.

"And we talked... and talked and then we made love... what, three
times?" he asks, knowing full well how many times.

"I was in my seventh month; my hormones were in overdrive," she
mumbles, her voice sleep laden.

"Well, whatever the reason... I can never get the image of you, of
your body, out of my mind.  I never knew how beautiful a pregnant
woman could be, how sexy.  God, Scully, you were overwhelming... the
shape of your abdomen, the movement I felt inside you, knowing we had
created that together.  Being with you again, making love again--
hell, I had thought I'd never see you again," he is telling her, his
voice soft enough that he can hear her breathing and realizes she has
fallen asleep, her eyes moving under her lids as she is dreaming,
remembering......

......"Scully, I'm so mixed up... about my life, about us," he had
said when he appeared at her apartment late that night.  They had sat
on the couch, talking for over three hours, moving closer and closer
to each other all the while, finally ending up lying together, holding
each other.

Mulder had been the one to initiate the move to the bedroom, not
expecting anything to happen, just wanting to be close to her again.  
He had undressed first, then sat on the bed and watched her, the
beauty of the new curves and lines of her form an overwhelming
creation to him.  "God, you're beautiful," he had said to her, pulling
her closer to him before he bent down to place a soft kiss on the
swell of her more Rubenesque body.

"I have missed you...so much," she said softly, caressing his head as
he laid his cheek against her stomach.  "If it hadn't been for our
child, Mulder, I don't think I could've continued."  He had looked up
at her then, the knowing sadness in his eyes bringing tears to hers.  
She leaned down to kiss him, softly at first, then becoming more
intense. "Make love with me, Mulder.  I need you..."

They moved up into the bed, Mulder folding the covers back so that he
could see her, his need to look at her, knowing their child was
growing inside her, was all-consuming.  "I can't stop looking at you,
Scully," he whispered into her ear as he held her, both of them on
their sides, facing each other. "I have always loved your body, but
I... I can't tell you what this means to me," he told her, moving back
to place his hand on her stomach.

Scully smiled at him, his touch giving her goosebumps, hardening her
nipples.  He noticed her arousal and placed his hand on her breast,
squeezing it lightly, lifting its weight.  "This okay?" he asked her.  
She laughed at him, then, thinking how almost childlike he was in his
awe of the changes in her body her pregnancy had brought.

"Yes...  Anything you want to do is okay, Mulder.  You won't hurt
me... or the baby," she smiled to him.

"You mean we can...?" he asked.

"Yes, we can...but we'll have to improvise," she told him.

"That might be interesting," he chided her, her small laugh music to
his ears.  She had turned away from him, taking his hand after he had
wrapped his arm around her stomach and scooted up behind her.  She
could feel his erection against her thigh, her bottom, feeling her
body swelling and lubricating itself in readiness.  She reached back
and took him in her hand, stroking him tenderly, his hands stroking
her abdomen, caressing her breasts as he kissed her shoulder, her soft
cheek.  He had lifted her thigh, laying it back over his, before
entering her in a long, slow push.

"Scully..." he sighed, not moving, just holding himself inside her.  
She could feel his reticence, instinctively knowing what he was
thinking.

"Mulder, I told you... you won't hurt me or the baby. Please don't
hold back.  I need to feel you," she said, taking his hand, kissing
his fingers before slipping his middle finger into her mouth, sucking
on his finger as she began to move against him.

"Uhhhhhh, Jesus..." Mulder moaned, his hips automatically moving in
response.  He removed his finger from her mouth, rubbing the wetted
surface against the nipple of her breast, nipping the skin of her
shoulder.  He lifted her thigh, changing their position slightly
allowing him to deepen his thrusts.  Mulder entwined his fingers with
hers, moving her hand with his over the expanse of her abdomen, both
of them feeling their child inside as they loved each other again.

Finally, Mulder released her hand and moved his between her legs,
searching for just the right spot to give her the pleasure she sought.  
"Oh, right there, Mulder...harder," she told him, her request little
more than a whisper.  He obliged, his fingers increasing their
pressure as he began to pump faster, wanting them both to soar.  And
they did, within seconds of each other, just one more rare occurrence
to add to the long list of rarities in their lives. Afterwards, they
lay together, face to face, their hands slowly, softly touching every
area of skin surface they could reach.  The touch of his fingers, his
lips... his tongue... felt hypnotizing to her; she felt as if she were
floating, mesmerized by the sensations his actions were causing.  She
felt as if nothing else in the world existed beyond the two of them in
their bed......

......"Dana...Dana, honey, it's time to get up," she hears her
mother's voice, feels her touch on her shoulder, waking her from her
dreams.

"Mom?  What time is it?" Scully asks, starting to sit up until she
remembers she is naked.

"It's a little after 7:00 and you're due at the hospital by 8:30, so
you need to get up," her mother responds, laying her robe across the
bed before moving to leave her room. "William is ready to eat if you
want to join us."

"Mom--where's Mulder?" Scully asks before her mother is quite out the
door, wondering why he didn't wake her.

"He left over an hour ago.  He got a call and said he had to leave,"
her mother tells her, not realizing how her words were affecting her
daughter.

FOX MULDER'S OFFICE
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
Earlier the same day, 7:10am

"Yeah, I've got it on," Mulder says into his cell phone, standing in
his office watching the local morning news.
   *A New York warehouse is still burning this morning after an
explosion rocked the quiet neighborhood shortly after midnight last
night.  Police and fire officials report they have not yet determined
a cause, but report the fire is so intense the steel girders have
melted and the building itself as well as two neighboring buildings
are a total loss.  The FBI is on the scene and terrorism is being
investigated as a possible cause.  Fortunately, there are no known
casualties.  More on this story as it develops.* "I see him," Mulder
says, spotting Skinner in footage of the news coverage. "We're done
and a-okay, Mulder," Frohike tells him.  "You can let the Limey know
it's time to pay up.  I'll tape the TV coverage and you can send the
British bastard to the movies.  And if he cops out on Scully, tell him
it'll be the last flick he ever sees." "I'll be in touch...and
thanks," Mulder tells him sincerely, muting the television but keeping
it on for any other reports.  He has faith in Skinner but hopes that
he has enough connections who owe him enough favors to insure that
things are covered up.

Continued in Pt. 4

TITLE: Remembering Now, Pt. 4-5
AUTHOR: Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17
E-MAIL: philer@onemain.com



GEORGTOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
WASHINGTON, DC
The same day, 9:31am

The sound of the beeping monitors echoes in the stark white room, the
glow of the overhead lights dimmed in an effort to give the room a
comfort, albeit a false one. Scully reclines in the uncomfortable
chair, her eyes closed, as the technician adjusts her arm before
inserting the IV needle on the inside of her forearm.

"You'll feel a stick," the woman says, like at Scully's stage of
treatment she wouldn't know that.

"Doin' okay, Dana?" Dr. Langin asks, sitting on a rolling stool next
to Scully's recliner. She notices her friend's pallor, can sense a
defeat in her manner that she hasn't seen before.

"Cheryl..." Scully responds, opening her eyes to see her friend.  
"I'm...good, not feeling too badly.  Are you sure there's anything in
there?" she kids, looking at the bag of clear liquid hanging from the
stainless steel pole near her chair.

"Plenty, Dana, plenty," Dr. Langin says seriously.  "You sure you're
doing alright; you seem very tired."

"The Compazine makes me tired, kind of drowsy... But it's a good trade
off; at least I haven't been sick with this new round of treatment,"
Scully relays.  "Are you sure I need to add the radiation again,
Cheryl.  I thought I would never have to see that ungodly machine
again."  Scully had become so sick from the chemo that her fear of the
radiation equipment had almost gone unnoticed since it had been the
lesser of the two evils.  But her aversion had grown, her anxiety at
being locked into place under the machine reaching levels that had
caused her to hyperventilate--on two occasions.

"I think you need to stick with it, Dana. You haven't had much pain
and I think the radiation is, at least, keeping that at bay," Dr.
Langin tells her.  Scully looks at her for a moment, knowing that
Cheryl would not be telling her that if she weren't absolutely
convinced that it was true.  Scully nods, telling her friend with that
small action that she trusts her and that she will continue with her
radiation for as long as she recommends.

"I'll come by the radiation lab in a little while, Dana. Maybe after
you're finished, we could get some lunch... if you feel like it," Dr.
Langin says, just wanting to have some time to talk.

"Um, yeah.  Mom is picking me up, so she can go with us; you can meet
William," Scully says, smiling to her friend.

"I'd like that," Dr. Langin says, squeezing Scully's hand as she
stands, leaving the room without another word.

Later, Scully is taken down the hall to the radiation lab, a tomb-like
room with about as much atmosphere as a basement. She is lying on the
metal table, waiting for the technician to place the immobilizing
devices around her to prevent inadvertent movement during her
treatment.  She feels like the walls are slowly moving in, like the
room is getting smaller.  She feels chilled, the cold stainless steel
surface against her, seemingly freezing her through the light weight
of her flimsy cotton gown.  She shivers, partly from the physical
chill she feels; the other part from the escalating anxiety she feels
at being restrained to the table, just waiting for a treatment to
begin that she hopes against hope will help her. She gives in to the
inevitable and closes her eyes, surrendering......

......She remembered the fear, the quick dawning that something was
wrong, that something was happening to her body. "Mulder...something's
wrong.  I'm having lancinating pain in my... chest," she said, her
voice already becoming breathy and faint.

"What?  Scully..." Mulder said, frightened.

"Ohhh, my motor functions are being affected. I..." she murmured,
slumping against Mulder as he caught her in his arms.  Frantic, Mulder
somehow managed to lower her gently to the floor of the hallway, just
outside his apartment door.  Her breathing was labored now, her body
dead weight. "My pulse is thready," she continued to speak, her voice
growing fainter, her eyes unable to focus. "And I have a funny taste
in the back of my throat..."

"I think you're going into anaphylactic shock," he tried to hope, not
wanting to think that something more was wrong.

"No, Mulder, I have no allergy..." she was barely able to whisper as
he ran to call for help.  She found herself gasping, trying to get
air, unable to move her arms or legs, her head lolling to one side and
then everything went black.

She could feel them handling her, but couldn't focus on who they were
or where she was, but knew she was laying inside something, a
container of some sort.  She could feel that she was naked, felt cold,
but not like any coldness she had ever felt before.  She felt like she
wasn't breathing, but knew she must be because she knew she was alive.  
The tube in her mouth felt enormous, like her mouth was being held
open by something.  They were strapping her arms, her legs and she
wanted to resist but couldn't; her limbs wouldn't move, her voice
silenced by the protruding tube.

Then the lid was closed, but she could still see, suddenly realizing
that the lid must be transparent as she was lifted into an upright
position.  Then she felt it; a freezing cold liquid beginning to fill
the space, cover her body.  Her fear grew, knowing that she was surely
going to die...

"Oh, shit," Mulder whispered as he found her, there within the green
liquid of one of the frozen pods, the sight of her unmistakable. Her
auburn hair was ice-laden, a tube protruded from her mouth.  But it
was the look of horror on her face that beckoned his attention, his
frantic sadness. But she couldn't yell to him; couldn't call to him to
help. He rapped on the pod, first with his hand and then with his
flashlight, her hopes rising that he could get her out.  And then he
was gone...  Mulder!!!......

......"Mulder!!!  Mulder, help me!!!  Don't leave me here!!!
Mullllderrrr!!!!!" she felt herself yelling to him.

"Dana!  Dana!" she heard, knowing it wasn't Mulder's voice.

"Dana, you're okay," the woman's voice says to her, her hands slightly
shaking her, rubbing her arms.  "It's Cheryl, Dana.  Come on, wake
up... You're at the hospital."

Scully shakes her head, looking around the room as she tries to focus,
shaking her nightmare from her thoughts. "Cheryl..." Scully sighs, her
chill, her trembling, both real remnants from her very real dream.

"You had a nightmare, you were screaming..." Cheryl says softly,
sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, motioning to the others
who had heard her screaming and entered the room, to leave them in
private. "Do you know where you are?"

"Yes...yes, I...do now.  What happened?" Scully asks quietly, trying
to gain some composure, now remembering her vivid dream, her
flashback.

"You're trembling, Dana.  Take a few deep breaths, try to relax.  
Breathe..." Cheryl tells her calmly, holding her hand.

"I'm freezing..." Scully says, looking at her, suddenly feeling very
emotional, recognizing the feelings behind her friend's eyes and
knowing the reason for them.  "I want to see Mulder..."

MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Later that evening, 11:57pm

After Scully's mother had picked her up to take her home, Dr. Langin
had telephoned Mulder, not exactly trusting her friend to tell him of
her incident at the hospital. Scully had simply chalked her nightmare
up to a reaction to the psychotropic side effects of the Compazine,
but Dr. Langin recognized it as a manifestation of Scully's internal
fear; her fear of dying, of leaving Mulder.

Scully was in bed, her energy level totally gone, her small bit of
energy remaining was used on William, trying in vain to take one of
their mother/son baths together.  But she had worn down and required
help from Mulder to finish and to get their son out of the tub.  She
had gone to bed then, her mother and Mulder finishing the rest of the
nightly routines.  Mulder had managed to get William as close to sleep
as he could and had brought him in to lay with Scully on the bed,
something he knew she needed.  At least she hadn't had any nausea.

But the events of Scully's day had been significant, the meaning
behind her nightmare not lost on her, her realization that she had
things she needed to get in order slapping her in the face.  After
Mulder had joined her in bed, she knew she needed to tell him about
what had happened earlier in the day and talk to him about some
decisions she had made.

"Can we talk a little while, Mulder?" she asks.  Mulder is leaning
back on the pillows propped against the headboard, looking down at
Scully reclining on her back, the covers lying softly over her waist.  
Her hands are fidgeting with the edge of the comforter and he can see
the bruises on the backs of her hands, on the insides of her elbows,
which all too many needles have caused.  "I didn't have a good day at
the hospital today..."

"I know," he replies, shifting slightly to rub his palm over her arm.  
"Cheryl called me this morning."

"She called you?" Scully asks, sitting up to face him.

"You scared her, Scully.  She was so afraid for you... she was
crying...  She didn't want you to know."

"So that's why you just happened to come home early from work..."
Scully says.  They look at each other, their eyes never moving, both
knowing that today was a final turning point in their lives.  
"Mulder, I can't continue with the treatments.  I think you realize
that..." she says, her eyes still not looking away, the slight smile
she gives him reflects more sadness than he has ever known.

"I never thought you'd give up, Scully," he says quietly, tears
forming on his eyelids.

"Oh, Mulder.  I don't want to give up," she says, her voice almost
pleading him not to think that she is making a choice.  Scully moves
to him, sliding into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.  
He holds her, feels her warm breath against his neck. "I don't think
I'm going to make it this time, Mulder..."

"Scully, I...I can't hear you say that. There is still hope," he says,
looking into her tired eyes, his eyes rimmed with tears.

"Mulder, there's a fine line between having hope and pretending there
is hope.  We can't go on ignoring the inevitable.  We need to talk
about some things... important things... regarding legal matters...
regarding William," her mention of their son causing her to break, her
hold on him tightening as she sobs into his shoulder.

"Scully, honey, there is still hope.  You have to trust me," he
whispers to her, but mostly to himself.  He continues to hold her, her
sobs the only sound in the stillness of their dark bedroom until he
hears the buzz of his cell phone vibrating against the oak surface of
the bedside table.  His first reaction is to ignore it, but he knows
he shouldn't-- can't.

"Mulder," he answers softly, Scully's head still lying against his
shoulder.

"Mr. Mulder.  I see you made the news yesterday..." the distinguished
British accent spoke into the phone.  "I expected to hear from you."

"Well, um, I've been busy," Mulder tells him, hoping to hell his voice
sounds more confident than he is.  He would absolutely get down on his
knees and beg this man at the moment, but he doesn't want him to know
that. Scully sits up further on his lap, looking at him, wondering who
would be calling at this late hour.  Mulder mouths 'work' to her and
she lays her head back on his shoulder, placing a soft kiss to his
neck.

"The ball's in your court, Eastman," Mulder tells him tersely, hoping
Scully doesn't become any more curious about the late night call.

"Oh, not yet, Mr. Mulder.  There still seems to be a bit of a problem
with reports of suspected terrorism," Eastman tells him.

"That's being taken care of, I assure you," Mulder says, Scully
sitting up to look at him again.  He gives her an uncomfortable smile
before placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.  "Scully,
honey, I need to get up and take care of this phone call," Mulder
says, shifting so that Scully will move off his lap.  She settles into
the bed as Mulder leaves the bedroom to finish his call.

"I need proof of that, Mr. Mulder.  And evidence that everything that
could be traced was destroyed...absolutely," he tells him flatly.

"Look, you condescending bastard...You play this game too long and
that chip will become a moot point.  Scully's cancer isn't just
sitting by quietly waiting for you to get off your ass," Mulder's
voice becoming louder, despite his efforts to keep it low.  "And if
something happens to her...I will hunt you down--you WILL die."

"Then I highly suggest you hurry along, Mr. Mulder.  I'll wait to hear
from you.  In the meantime, give Miss Scully my regards," the man says
ending the conversation.

"You fucking bastard!" Mulder yells into the phone, pounding his hand
against the kitchen counter top.

"Fox?" Mrs. Scully says, entering the kitchen, tying the belt of her
terry robe. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah... yeah.  Just something from work," he says turning to her,
uncomfortable.  "Look, Mrs. Scully... I've got to go; to take care of
something at work.  Please tell Scully I'll call her," he says quickly
to her, returning to the bedroom to dress, leaving Scully's mother
standing there in disbelief. As expected, Scully was sleeping and
after he dressed, with one parting look, he left.

OFFICE OF THE LONE GUNMEN
SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, DC 
That same night, 1:02am

Mulder had telephoned Skinner on his way to the Gunmen's and had asked
him to meet him there.  Mulder was frantic, knowing that without hope,
Scully was ready to give up and accept a fate that he couldn't.  
Mulder was banging on the door impatiently; flipping the bird to the
outdoor monitor he knew was watching him.

"Goddamn, Mulder, you don't have to be totally rude," Langly says
after he unlocks the door for Mulder to enter.

"What have you got on tape?" Mulder says when he enters, throwing his
jacket in the direction of the couch.

"Well, hello to you too," Frohike says, moving to punch the button to
the closest computer monitor.  "We've just got a couple of more things
to get on the disc for our little Limey.  And we need Skinner to get
everything set in the FBI files.  We were going to contact you
tomorrow," Frohike tells him, various images of the charred warehouse
appearing on the screen.

"I need it now.  I've got to get to London," Mulder tells them
emphatically.

"Mulder, has something happened?" Byers asks, seeing the worried
anxiousness in Mulder's entire demeanor.  Frohike looks at Mulder,
then, the fear apparent in his eyes that something had taken a turn
for the worse with his beloved Scully.

"Um...Scully isn't doing so well.  We need to get that chip," he tells
them, trying to keep his utter sadness hidden from them.  Frohike
answers Skinner's authoritative knock at the door, the Gunmen
surprised by a visit from an assistant director of the FBI.

"We'll have the disc ready in a couple of hours, Mulder," Byers says,
knowing that by Skinner's appearance alone, he must have the necessary
information for them.  The three of them move around their lair,
clicking on monitors, booting up various computers, getting down to
their business like welloiled machines.

Skinner provides them with information that gets them into unhackable
FBI files and they begin work on altering the warehouse evidence.  
"Tomorrow's paper will report that an old oil-burning furnace
exploded, the fire so hot that even George Dubya's head would melt,"
Langly says, his face actually glowing at getting into the secure
files.

"The report's cleared, too, Mulder," Skinner tells him. "The evidence
of the detonating devices has disappeared and the file is closed on
it.  Now, what do we need to do to get that chip?"

"That disc and two tickets to London," Mulder tells Skinner,
relaxing onto the couch to wait for his friends.

MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Later that morning, 7:02am

"What did he say when he left?" Scully asks her mother, only just
finding out that Mulder had gotten a phone call and left the apartment
in the wee hours of that morning.

"He said he would call, Dana.  And he will... He wouldn't just run out
on you right now," she tells her daughter.

"You don't know him as well as you think you do, Mom," Scully says,
sitting down at the table next to William's high chair.  He is eating
Cheerios with his fingers, grinning at her as she teases with him.  
Her mother fixes her a breakfast, but she is doubtful it'll taste like
anything to her.

"What does that mean?" her mother asks, joining Scully and William at
the table. "Try and eat something, honey."

"Mom, if I had a dollar for every time Mulder has disappeared on me,
I'd be independently wealthy," Scully says, a melancholy to her voice
that her mother recognizes. "I just never thought he'd do it now."

The day dragged on, Mulder finally telephoning a little past noon.  
"Mulder, where are you?" Scully asks, by this time beginning to worry
about him.

"Skinner and I are on a plane--on our way to London..." he tells her
tentatively.

"London?  Why?  Is this a case?" she asks, sitting up from her recline
on the couch, her voice a bit panicky.

"Look, Scully, I can't tell you anything more, but I didn't want you
to worry," he tells her, Skinner giving him a dirty look.

"Mulder, I need you here..." she says, not believing how desperate her
own words sound. She has never been an emotionally needy person but
feels no guilt in saying this to him, considering her circumstances.

"I'll be home as soon as I can, Scully. PLEASE trust me," he tells her
quietly.

"Mulder, please.  Please..." she says, her voice more desperate.  
"Don't do this, not now..."

"I gotta go, Scully.  I'll keep in touch...I love you," he tells her
before hanging up. She sits there for a moment, not quite believing
that Mulder has agreed to work a case that would take him away from
her, especially to a place so far away as London.

"Dana, you okay?" her mother asks, coming into the living room.

"I'm fine," Scully says in automatic response.

"Okay... if you say so," her mother says, turning to walk out of the
living room, figuring her daughter doesn't want to talk about whatever
the phone call concerned.

"Oh, Mom..." Scully sighs, her voice now filled with tears, unable to
keep up her front, her stamina for doing that long gone.

"What was that call all about, Dana?" her mother asks softly, sitting
down next to her on the couch.  "Was that Fox?"

Scully nods, her tears inhibiting her ability to speak at the moment.  
Her mother gathers her to her and lets her cry, holding her daughter
as she has so many times before.

REGENT'S PARK
LONDON, ENGLAND
Later that day, 7:37pm

Mulder is alone...sitting on a park bench, his arms resting on his
thighs, his hands dangling between his knees.  He is picking at his
fingernails, staring at the ground when he isn't checking his
wristwatch.  Skinner is somewhere... watching, Mulder hoping that his
assistance won't be needed. Mr. Eastman hasn't shown, late by almost
forty minutes now and Mulder is getting antsy, his thoughts back home
with Scully.

"Mr. Mulder..." a voice comes from out of the fog.  "I must apologize
for being late, but something arose at the last moment."  Mulder
stands and turns to see him, to see for himself that it was indeed the
man whom he had seen blown up in that car so many years ago.

"Eastman... I've got what you want if you have what I came for,"
Mulder says, not caring about any small talk, just wanting to make the
transaction and get back to Scully.

"Well, I shouldn't deal with you, Mr. Mulder, since you didn't come
alone as I'd requested," Eastman tells him. "But since it's only Mr.
Skinner, I suppose I'll excuse you."  Mulder was wondering where the
hell Skinner was and why he couldn't have kept his bald head hidden.

"I don't like to fly all by myself," Mulder says instead, his
facetiousness not lost on Mr. Eastman.  "Have you got it?"

"I've got it, Mr. Mulder.  But I must say, I don't know what it is
that you have that would cause someone like Ms. Scully to be so
unilaterally in love with you, even when she thinks you have deserted
her," Eastman says, his cool smirk pissing Mulder off, but giving him
some indication that Eastman has, at least, had recent access to
Scully's thoughts.

"You've been listening to her thoughts, you bastard," Mulder says,
unable to keep his anger totally at bay.  "Why are you helping me?  
Helping her?"

"You are helping me, Mr. Mulder.  My contacts within your government
aren't what they used to be and I needed that evidence destroyed," he
says honestly, his breath fogging in the cold night air.  "As for why
I'm helping her I've always had a soft spot for Miss Scully. I feel
like I know her intimately."

At that, Mulder grabs the lapels of Eastman's wool coat, wanting to
kill him, but holding himself back; he has to get that chip.  "You
motherfucker!" Mulder says, shaking him before he can control himself.  
"You peek in your neighbor's windows, too, I bet," Mulder says, trying
to calm himself. "You promised me this new chip will not allow you to
hear her thoughts anymore.  I hope you keep your word."

"Yes.  That's true and I'm going to miss visiting with Miss Scully,"
Eastman says, giving him a smile Mulder would like to wipe permanently
off his face.

"Where's the chip?" Mulder asks, not wanting to hear anymore of
Eastman's sarcasm.

"You have the disk, Mr. Mulder?"

Mulder pulls a small manila envelope from the inside breast pocket of
his leather jacket, holding it up for Eastman to see.  "Disk and the
documents supporting the proof you need. Now give me the chip."

Eastman opens his hand, a small glass vial lying in his palm,
half-full of clear liquid, a dark speck visible floating near the
bottom.  Mulder takes the vial, bringing it close to his eye to make
sure the small object is indeed a chip.  He looks at Eastman then, and
hands him the envelope, holding onto it for a quick second as Eastman
pulls on it, just to let Eastman know he is the one in control.  
Eastman smiles, knowing his meaning.

"Mr. Mulder, I sincerely hope that Miss Scully recuperates and the
both of you can live your lives.  That's all I want for myself as
well," Eastman says, Mulder feeling that, for whatever reason, he is
sincere.

"It better be more than hope, Mr. Eastman... or I will hunt you down
and you won't be living your little life any longer," Mulder tells
him, giving him one last look before he disappears into the darkness
of the foggy park.

MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Early the next morning, 5:42am

The sound of Mulder's key in the front door lock of the apartment
startles her.  She turns to notice that the chain lock hadn't been
secured the night before and a certain fear floods her until she sees
that it's Mulder when he enters.

"Fox..." Mrs. Scully says, a relief to her voice, standing from her
place on the couch. As if she just remembers that she is supposed to
be angry with him, she changes her tone. "Where have you been?" she
asks, a sleeping William cradled in her arms.  Mulder is disheveled,
his two-day's growth of beard making him look older and tired.

"Mrs. Scully... I, I'll explain later.  It's important that I talk
with Scully.  Is she sleeping?" he asks, removing his coat revealing
his wrinkled sweater, the same one he left the apartment wearing the
two days before.

"Yes.  She had a bad day yesterday, Fox.  She needed you," Margaret
chastises, something she has never interfered to do before.

"Please, I'll explain.  I just need to talk with Dana," he says,
heading for their bedroom.

Scully is lying on her side, almost in a fetal position, the porcelain
of her skin now betraying her desperate illness. Mulder sits on the
edge of the bed, the mattress dipping as he does, but Scully doesn't
wake. "Scully?" he says softly, brushing her hair back from her face,
the copper glow of the red long gone.  "Scully, honey, wake up." She
stirs slightly, her eyes opening, taking a few moments to focus on
him. "Mulder?" she questions, rolling slowly to her back.  "Is that
you?"

"Yes.  Yes, it's me."  Mulder bends to give her a light kiss, his
emotion at seeing how much she has deteriorated in just one day
distressing to him. "Scully, I need to talk to you." She starts to sit
up, but is struggling a bit and he moves to help her, continuing to
hold her even after she is sitting.

"Mulder, God, I've been so worried," she says, wrapping her arms
around his neck.  He holds her for a moment, whispering to her that he
loves her.  "You look awful--where have you been?"

"Scully, I need to tell you something and then we need to get to the
hospital," he tells her, not necessarily the best way to start.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she asks, her confusion
apparent.  Mulder reaches into his pocket and pulls out the vial,
holding it up so that she sees it.  "Oh, Mulder, no.  No!" she says,
scooting away from him. "Don't do this to me."

"But, Scully, it's your cure, another chip," he tell her, not
understanding why she isn't pleased.  "That's where I've been.  I
didn't want to tell you, to get your hopes up, until I knew for sure."

"But Mulder, you don't know for sure.  You can't!" she says, her voice
breaking.  "The men who are responsible for my chip are all long dead,
Mulder.  You think just anybody can manufacture one of those?  And
then give it to you just in the nick of time to save me?" her ire
taking the form of sarcasm.

"I got it from Charles Eastman; known to you as the well- manicured
man, Scully," Mulder tells her flatly.

"But... he's dead, Mulder," she says.  "A death you told me you
witnessed yourself."

"Well, he ain't, Scully.  Dead, that is. And, for reasons I'll tell
you later, he wants to help us... again," he tells her, moving further
up on the bed, closer to her.  Her expression is pensive, wanting so
badly to believe that she has a chance, but so afraid of hoping.
"Scully, let me call Cheryl and we'll meet her at the hospital...
please..." he pleads, taking her hand in his.  "It's the hope we've
been waiting for and what have we got to lose, Scully?"

Scully looks at him, her eyes sad, her tears slowly falling down her
cheeks.  She nods slowly, her whole demeanor heartbreaking to him,
both of them knowing that if the chip doesn't work, the end of their
lives together is near.

GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
WASHINGTON, DC
Later that day

Both of them had explained the plan to Mrs. Scully.  Her reaction to
the situation had been somewhat similar to her daughter's except she
was less convinced that the chip had worked the last time, preferring
to believe that Scully's faith had been the determining factor. But
she had been supportive, convinced by the hope she had felt from her
daughter, something she hadn't observed in weeks.  Scully had kissed
her, and William, good- bye, crying tears that she made no effort to
conceal.

Mulder had telephoned Cheryl initially, trying to convince her of
their plan proving to be too difficult, giving Scully the phone to do
better.  "Cheryl, I know this sounds like science fiction, but I
assure you, it isn't.  You know that small metal object in the back of
my neck that you saw on my MRI..." Scully started, the rest of her
explanation suddenly becoming more realistic to her friend.

Dr. Langin had met them at the hospital, taking them to a treatment
room, Scully pre warning her that a full OR would not be needed.  
"Dana, I don't even know what to do with this," Dr. Langin says,
holding the vial up to the light to try to get a better look at what
her friend was touting as a cure for her cancer.

"It is just implanted subcutaneously, Cheryl. I know it sounds totally
inconceivable, but that's the way the other ones were used," Scully
tells her, glancing at Mulder, noticing the self-satisfied look on his
face at hearing her belief.

"The other one comes out then?" Cheryl asks. Scully looks to Mulder,
asking him to answer that question.

"Yeah.  He said this one would replace the other one," Mulder
answered, looking at Scully.

"Well, I'll give you two a couple of minutes and I'll get a surgical
kit and we'll get this going, whatever 'this' is," Cheryl tells them,
touching Mulder's shoulder as she moves to leave.

"Scully, something I haven't told you... um, Mr. Eastman said that
with this chip, they, um...wouldn't be able to monitor your thoughts
anymore... or track you.  It's simply to cure your cancer," he says
softly, hoping she wouldn't be upset by the confirmation that they had
been privy to everything she thought or did.

"So, it's true..." Scully sighs, looking at Mulder sadly, knowing
those men had been voyeurs to many, many things that had invaded his
privacy as well.

"Well, that part is over, Scully," Mulder says, moving to stand
between her legs that were dangling off the edge of the exam table.

"Yeah, in one way or another it will be," she smiles a sad smile. She
puts her arms around him, one around his neck, the other around her
waist, laying her head against his shoulder.  "I never thought I could
love anyone as much as I love you and William..."

"Ditto..." he says, squeezing her tightly to him.  Dr. Langin returns
to the room as they pull away from each other.  Scully looks at Mulder
and straightens her shoulders, giving herself the resolve she'll need
to get through the next few days.  As she feels the cold of the
antiseptic and the prick of the needle, Scully closes her eyes,
sending her thoughts elsewhere......

......"Sculleee!  Sculleee!" she heard Mulder frantically yelling from
somewhere outside the deserted building in which she had just given
birth.  Scully's relief at hearing his voice was almost overwhelming,
even though she knew he would find her.  He always did.

"Mulderrr!" Agent Reyes called to him, beckoning him to the
dilapidated building.

"How is she?" Mulder called to her, knowing Scully must be inside the
building Reyes stood in front of.

"She's inside," Reyes told him as he ran up to the porch.  She grabbed
Mulder's arm as he moved to the doorway, "She needs to get to the
hospital."  Mulder entered, his first sight of Scully lying on the
blood-stained sheets, barely covered made his heart feel like it had
stopped.

"Mulder...Mulder.  Oh, God, Mulder," Scully said between her tears.  
"Don't let them take our baby.  Mulder, please help us. Mulder..."  
Scully was near hysterics, Mulder never having seen her even close to
being this emotionally out of control.

"Scully...Scully, I'm here.  I'm here. Everything will be okay," he
told her, unable to take his eyes off all of the blood.

"They want our baby, Mulder! Don't let them take him...please," she
cried, her tears still flowing.

"Scully, listen to me..." Mulder said, putting his arms around her and
the child she held.  "They're gone.  Nobody is going to hurt the
baby...or you.  They're gone, Scully."

"Oh, Mulder... take me... us out of here," she said, her fatigue
finally showing, her absolute panic subsiding after hearing his words.

"We have a helicopter, Scully. Everything will be fine," he told her,
giving her a reassuring smile.

"It's a boy, Mulder.  We have a son..." she said, Mulder bending to
kiss her lips as she cried. Monica and two others entered the building
with a gurney as Mulder covered Scully a bit with a sheet.  Monica
gently took the baby from Scully before Mulder gently lifted her onto
the gurney, causing her to grimace despite her absolute relief that
she and her child had been rescued.

After they had all boarded the helicopter, Monica had given the baby
back to Scully, Mulder sitting in the rear with them despite the
pilot's instructions to belt himself into a seat.

They had flown to Macon since it was closer and had sufficient medical
facilities. Scully and the baby were fine, generally speaking and
Mulder had stayed with them the first day they were in the hospital.  
After they were both stable, Scully and the baby were flown to
Georgetown Memorial and Mulder and Reyes drove her car back to
Washington. Scully and the baby were discharged two days later.  She
had just wanted to be home with her child...and Mulder.

"How's everybody doin'?" he asked as he entered the room, seeing
Scully holding their child, a sight he was afraid he would never see.  
She had told him she named him William, after his father...and hers.  
They had both been afraid of how her pregnancy had been possible,
never thinking they were creating the life that became their child
when they had finally first made love.  "The truth we both know," he
had told her, telling her when he kissed her that their child had not
been a result of anything but their love.

Mulder had stayed that night and had, essentially, never really moved
out.  Scully had been tired, up and down with William every couple of
hours, her stamina still low from the ordeal in Georgia.  They were
both in bed, Scully trying to sleep and Mulder just watching her.
William had whimpered a bit, the sound immediately waking Scully, a
phenomenon Mulder found amazing.

"Scully, I barely heard him and I was awake," he said as he handed the
baby to her, having retrieved him from his bassinet.  "How the hell do
you hear that?  You could always sleep through a bomb going off."

She smiled at him, entertained by his amazement at damned near
everything she did where the baby was concerned.  "All mothers have
that ability, Mulder.  It's just instinct," she told him, opening her
pajama top to place William at her breast.

"And that, Scully," he started, nodding toward their child nursing at
her breast. "How cool is that?"  She chuckled then, bending to kiss
William on the forehead as Mulder scooted up next to her.

"Pretty cool, Mulder...pretty cool," she said, giving him a smile as
she leaned into him. "You can't imagine what this feels like, how it
makes me feel."

"I could try...maybe from William's point of view," he teased,
garnering another chuckle from her.  He put his arm around her,
pulling them closer together as William continued to suckle, oblivious
to everything that had happened in order for him to be born.  "I never
thought I'd have a family again, Scully.  And look at me now.  He's
beautiful..." he said softly, stroking William's cheek with the pad of
his finger. Scully looked up at him, smiling a smile that said
everything.  He kissed her softly, lingering as he stroked her face
with his palm.  "I love you very much, Scully," Mulder told her
softly, laying his head against hers, stroking her arm that cradled
their son......

......She was awakened, feeling his hand on her arm, softly trying to
sooth her myriad bruises.  "Scully, you awake?" Mulder asks, standing
at the side of the exam table.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, Mulder helping her to sit up.  "I didn't mean
to fall asleep.  Is everything finished?"

"Finished, Scully.  Now all we have to do is wait," he tells her
softly, finally truly feeling a sense of hope.

"And pray...," she adds before he kisses her lightly, and then helps
her to the bathroom to dress.

Continued in Pt. 5

TITLE: Remembering Now, Pt. 5-5
AUTHOR: Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17
E-MAIL: philer@onemain.com




MULDER AND SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
One week later

"Here Scully, take these," Mulder says as he hands her two Mylanta
tablets and a glass of water.  She looks up at him, moving to sit,
reclining against the headboard of their bed.

"Thanks," she says, actually feeling the pills will serve no purpose,
but thinking better of telling him so.  She chews them for a few
seconds before washing the residue down with the water he offers,
hoping that her stomach settles.  "At least I haven't barfed..."

"Well, that's something," Mulder says hopefully as he sits next to her
hip at the edge of the bed.  "You really need to eat something,
Scully.  Your appetite was doing better the last couple of days.  
Where's this coming from?"

"I don't know, Mulder.  I don't really feel sick like I had from the
treatments; I just feel kind of ick.  But I'm afraid to eat anything.  
I don't want it to just come back up," she tells him, closing her eyes
in fatigue.

"Sleepy?" he asks, taking the glass of water from her and setting it
on the nightstand.

"Yeah... maybe all of this is just nerves, Mulder--about tomorrow."

"Scully, your tests are going to show improvement.  I know it; I feel
it," he tells her, moving a bit closer, taking her hand in both of
his.  "You've got to believe that."

"I want to...and I did until I started feeling so badly today.  I
did," she says, seeing the desperate hope for her in his eyes.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?  Then we'll go to the hospital
together in the morning," he says to her, moving to give her a gentle
kiss.

As he pulls away from her, she reaches to hold his face, giving him a
kiss in return before wrapping her arms around him. "Mulder, I know
you have work to finish, but I need you to come to bed.  I need you
here with me..." she tells him quietly, knowing he'll do what ever she
needs.

Mulder holds her to him, rubbing her back, bending to kiss her
forehead.  "Just give me a minute to lock the apartment and shut my
computer down and I'll be in..."

GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
OFFICE OF DR. CHERYL LANGIN 
The next day, 10:13am

When Mulder and Scully enter the office, Dr. Langin is already seated
at her desk, her face buried in a medical file.  As soon as she sees
them, she looks up, then tosses her glasses and file to the desk,
immediately getting up and moving to Scully to embrace her.  Mulder
watches the interchange, his fear surfacing that the results of
Scully's tests had not been what they had hoped for.

But when Dr. Langin moved back from Scully and he saw the smile on her
face and recognizing the tears she shed as tears of joy, his sigh of
relief was audible.  "Dana, not only has your cancer not spread, but
it is actually diminishing...in only one week since you received that
chip!" Dr. Langin says to her.

Scully is speechless, looking at her friend and then at Mulder, her
look of relief, and hope, an absolute beauty to Mulder's eyes.
"Really?  You're sure?"

"Positive.  Dana, it's too early to declare victory over your disease,
but, my God, I've never seen anything like it. Never," her friend
tells her, leaning back against the desk. Scully sits slowly into the
overstuffed chair, Mulder immediately moving to her side and placing
his hand on her shoulder.  "We'll continue with the Epogen to boost
your blood a bit--give you some energy. But I think I'll titrate the
Compazine and we'll see if your nausea has gone," Cheryl explains.

"I had an episode last night, but now that I've gotten the results, I
think I'm feeling much better," Scully says jokingly, but really
isn't.  "Actually, I'm starved," she finishes, all three of them
laughing, finally able to release the collective breath they had been
holding.

MULDER & SCULLY'S APARTMENT 
GEORGTOWN, DC 
Later that evening 

"I love you, baby," Scully whispers to William as she rocks him
slowly, her head relaxing against the back of the oak rocker. She
begins humming to him softly, a tune that is hardly a lullaby, but
brings back memories to her that makes her smile......

......"Jeremiah was a bullfrog," Mulder sang along with the radio,
grinning from ear to ear as he did.  "Remember that, Scully?" They
were in the car, Mulder driving them to his surprise vacation cabin in
Virginia Beach.

"Of course, I remember that, Mulder.  I was there, remember? And, for
some strange reason, you seem intent on never letting me live it
down."

"Why, Scully, I love to hear you sing," he said facetiously, still
grinning at her.

"Then you are truly spooky, Mulder," she told him, purposely not
looking at him.  He reached for her hand, squeezing it as he looked at
her, determined to wait her out until she returned his gaze.  
Finally, she turned to look at him, smiling, unable to resist the
goofy, hopeful look on his face. "You make me crazy, Mulder..."

"Good.  Then MY illness won't be so glaringly obvious," he told her,
her chuckle his reward.

The beach house he had rented was beautiful, small, but equipped with
everything they needed for a long weekend to themselves. They had been
together about two months when Mulder had surprised her, almost
kidnapping her from work on a Thursday afternoon, making her pack and
leave with him before actually telling her where they were going.

Their cabin was fairly secluded, the tall sea grass surrounding it
providing enough privacy for the extracurricular activities both of
them had in mind.  It was early the next morning after they had
arrived, the sun not yet up.  "Come on, Mulder," Scully said, getting
out of bed. "Let's go down to the beach and watch the sun rise."

"How about you get back in bed and we'll see what else rises," Mulder
told her sleepily before rolling over and pulling the blankets over
his head.

"Well, you can stay in bed, but I'm going to the beach," she told him,
tying the sash to her robe, then leaning over him to whisper in his
ear.  "And I'm wearing nothing under my robe."  With that, she left
and Mulder couldn't stumble out of bed fast enough to grab his robe
and run out to catch up with her.  They walked hand in hand the short
distance to the shore line, barely making it before the sun began to
peak over the edge of the horizon.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Scully said, sitting on their blanket near the
edge of the grass, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching the sun
begin to glow.

"Yes...beautiful," Mulder said, looking at her, barely noticing the
sunrise.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his other draped
over her knees, his hand squeezing hers.  "I love you, Scully."  She
looked at him then, leaning into him to kiss him softly, laying her
head back against his arm.

"And I love you," she said before he laid her back on the blanket.  
They enjoyed each other's kisses, Mulder's hand slipping inside her
robe to find her breast, his fingers cool against her warm skin, her
nipple immediately hardening for both reasons.

"Let's do it out here, Scully.  No one will see us..." he said to her
quietly, nuzzling her neck as he pushed the front of her robe further
open.

"I don't care if they do," she said, moving her hand into his robe,
sliding her palm down his chest, across his abdomen, to find his
penis.  She massaged him slowly as they continued to kiss, his lips
firm and wet against hers. Mulder moved to suck a nipple into his
mouth, his hand moving between her legs.  "Your fingers are cold..."
she chuckled softly.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he moved his mouth to her other breast.

"No, it feels...good," she managed to say, her hands now massaging his
scalp as he started kissing down her body. "Mulder, we'd better not
push our luck..."

"Yeah," he said, smiling at her before moving over her, his weight on
his elbows.  She reached for him, helping him to enter her, the feel
of him finally inside her making her whole body relax against the
blanket, the sand underneath conforming to the contours of her body.  
They both still had their robes on, open only in the front where their
bodies touched.  "Mmmmmmm, what a pleasurable way to start the day,"
Mulder said, his voice low and sensual.

Scully chuckled, moving her body under him to bend her knees further.  
"You feel so good, Mulder," her voice barely more than a sigh. His
thrusts were slow, but firm, his knees barely moving as they dug into
the sand.  Her body moved, meeting his slow thrusts, her body rubbing
against the soft hair covering his chest, scattering down his abdomen.  
His morning stubble scraped against her cheek, her neck, as he kissed
her, his breath warm against her skin.

"Is faster okay?" he asked, feeling the need for more.  He felt her
nod against his cheek before raising his head enough to look at her.  
Her eyes were closed, the look of pure bliss on her face enough to
send him to another level as his thrusts quickened.  He moved
slightly, pushing harder against her and he could tell she was close
by the pitch of the sounds she was making.  "Close?"

"Mmmm, yeah...  Oh, right there, don't stop...right there...uhhhhhhh,"
she was able to say just before her body stiffened, her hips bucking
as she held her breath through her climax.  "Oh, God, Mulder.  
Ummmmmm... give me a minute," she mumbled, concentrating on letting
herself come down, knowing he was very close.  Her inner muscles
continued to flutter, Mulder barely able to wait for her. She began to
move, his cue to move in and out of her again, his release coming
almost immediately after he began moving. He laid on top of her, not
moving for a few seconds before his body shuddered, a low groan from
him vibrating against her ear.

They lay together afterwards, the sun shining in full now, the morning
light warming their entwined forms.  "I've never done it outside
before, Mulder," she told him, the mischievousness in her voice very
apparent. "Have you?"

"Well..." he hesitated, not really wanting to tell the story of Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle's tombstone at that moment. "Let's just say this is
the best time."

"I'll get that story out of you another day..." she smiled at him,
kissing him lightly.

Mulder smiled back, knowing that she would. "Come on, Scully.  I'll
make breakfast," he said, standing and reaching out his hand to her.  
She closed her robe, taking hold of him to stand, gathering the sandy
blanket under her arm.  He wrapped his arm around her, bending to kiss
her temple......

......"Let me take him, Scully," Mulder says, kissing her temple as he
reached for his sleeping son, stirring her from her dozing in the
rocker.

"No, let me.  I haven't felt like doing this for a while," she says,
adjusting herself a bit to be able to stand with their growing son.

After William was put down for the night, Scully finds Mulder lying on
the couch on his back, staring at the ceiling.  The television isn't
even on.  "You okay?" she asks, coming to sit on the edge next to him.

"Great," he says, laying his hand on her thigh.  "I haven't felt this
good in a long, long time, Scully."  She gives him a wary smile,
knowing what he is thinking.

"Mulder, this isn't over yet.  I'm not cured...," she says softly, her
voice almost pleading with him not to get his hopes too high.

"I realize that, Scully.  I do.  But when's the last time you had as
much hope as you have right now?" he asks.  She lays her head on his
chest, his hand lightly stroking her hair.  She doesn't answer him,
but he knows it isn't because she doesn't feel the same as he does,
but because she is afraid to do so.

OFFICE OF THE LONE GUNMEN SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 
DC Several days
later, 4:31pm "We thought you should see this for yourself, Mulder,"
Byers tells him as he leads him to one of the many computer monitors.

"We grabbed it off the wire this morning," Langly says, almost afraid
to show it to him. Mulder looks at the monitor, a small article from
the London standard jumping out at him. *London Businessman Found
Murdered*--Mulder knowing who the article referred to before even
reading further.  *Local business man and award-winning
horticulturist, Charles Montgomery Eastman, was discovered murdered in
his London flat last night.  Mr. Eastman, along with his valet, was
shot assassination style, officials reported.  They felt the murders
had taken place as much as a week ago, but the bodies were not
discovered until yesterday evening by house cleaners...*

"I think this is not good news, Mulder," Frohike says apprehensively.  
"I think it means..."

"Yeah--he wasn't the last one left," Mulder interrupts, plopping onto
the closest stool. "Fuck..."

"You think this has anything to do with the warehouse... or Scully's
chip?" Byers asks quietly.

"I doubt it was because someone was pissed off about the color of one
of his roses," Mulder quips humorlessly.  "Who would still be around
who would want to do this; who would even be paying attention?"

"Somebody's always paying attention, Mulder," Langly pipes in.  "But
maybe they don't know Scully has another chip...maybe they don't know
Eastman even had another one."

"Maybe..." Mulder says.  "But then why kill him?"

"Maybe it was just the warehouse--maybe there was stuff in there that
somebody really, really wanted," Frohike adds. "But, there musta been
something in Eastman's place that they wanted, too--the paper said his
place was ransacked."

"Well, I refuse to believe that this will have anything to do with
Scully's chip...her health," Mulder says defiantly, but his high hopes
from a few days ago were suddenly on guard. "But keep checking--let me
know if you find anything more-- anything."

OFFICE OF DR. CHERYL LANGIN
GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
One month later

Scully had been checked every week of the almost six weeks since the
chip had been replaced in her neck and her tests had been
progressively better each time.  "Dana, I don't know what to say," Dr.
Langin tells them, shaking her head as she smiles. "I have never seen
anything like it in all my experience.  If I dare say this...I feel
you are cured.  There is absolutely no evidence of any cancer---none."

"You're absolutely sure?" Mulder asks, his skeptical soul needing just
one more ounce of validation.

"I wouldn't have said it if I weren't," Dr. Langin smiles, very happy
herself that she hadn't had to continue to watch her friend slowly
die.  "We'll continue to monitor and run a few tests every month, but
I truly don't expect to find anything.  I think you two can relax and
begin to live your lives again."

MULDER & SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
Later that evening

After Scully's tests and the appointment with Dr. Langin, they had
taken the rest of the day off and had gone out to dinner, a
celebration of sorts.  Scully's mother had joined them with William
and she had taken him home with her for the night after their dinner.  
Even though Scully still harbored some doubt about her cure, it was
hidden far enough in the recesses of her brain that she truly
relaxed...for the first time since her cancer had reappeared.

"What are you thinking about?" Mulder asks as he crawls into bed next
to her.  He had finished a few things from work while she had busied
herself with William's things; laundry, straightening his room while
she had the chance.  Scully had gone to bed to read, wanting some
peace from Mulder's typing and phone calls. He was finishing an
overdue report that Skinner had given him an extra day to do so that
he could go with her to her appointment.  "You don't look like you are
reading that book..." Mulder says, leaning against the head board next
to her.

"I was for a while..." she says, returning his slight smile.  She
closes her book, about spiritual healing, he notices, and sighs,
hesitating before finally speaking to him. "You know, Mulder, when I
was sick, I would...go other places...in my mind...to try to give
myself peace.  I'd put myself in happier times...with you and William;
remembering us together..." she says, her voice almost a whisper,
finally able to begin to tell him how afraid she was.  Mulder doesn't
say anything or move closer to her, only taking her hand, knowing she
just needs to talk.

"I remembered us with William and the hope we had to be a family, a
hope I almost lost, Mulder," she continues, finally glancing up at
him.  "I remembered us...making love...and missing that so badly,
missing feeling like we were interconnecting pieces...together."

"We were, Scully; we are...always," he says finally moving closer to
her and putting his arm around her, gathering her close, kissing her
temple.

"And then my good memories turned to bad ones...scary ones.  You don't
know how scared I was, Mulder.  Hell, I think I'm just now realizing
how scared I was," she says, a slight chuckle to her voice.  She looks
at him, an expression on her face he didn't expect.  "Mulder, why
didn't you tell me about what you were doing?  About the chip?"

Mulder sighed, hoping that she would never ask him this, but knowing
that someday she would. "I didn't want to give you false hope, hope
that might be taken back if things didn't work out," he admits.  "And
I had plenty of doubts that it would work out, Scully.  There is a lot
to the whole thing that you don't know, some that is probably best you
don't.  But I'll tell you everything...if you want to hear it," he
tells her honestly.

"I do want to know, Mulder," she says, leaning into him further. "Just
not right now," she finishes, looking up at him, giving him a smile
with a happiness that he hadn't seen in a long, long time.  He bends
to kiss her, a kiss she returns passionately, managing to straddle his
lap without breaking their connection.

Mulder finally moves his lips to her neck, trying to catch his breath.  
"Scully, is this something we can finish?" he asks as he continues to
nuzzle and kiss her, his hands stroking her back.  "If not, we'd
probably better slow down or you're gonna kill me here."

Scully chuckles and moves back from him, looking at the absolute
arousal in his darkened eyes.  She smiles as she caresses his face
with her palm, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.  "We're
okay...medically.  I just hope...that... Well, we just need to take
our time," she says, still smiling at him.

"It's been a long time between dances, Scully.  I hope I still know
how to tango," he teases her, reaching to pull her pajama top off.

"Mulder, if you ever forgot how to 'tango', it would be the end of the
world as we know it," she says, moving off of him to remove her
panties.

"So is this why you had your mother take William for the night?" he
asks, pulling his boxers down, removing them the rest of the way with
his feet. "So we could have sex?" he teases.

"Well, that isn't exactly what I said to her, Mulder, but I'm sure she
kinda figured it out," Scully says, laying her head down on the
pillow.

"Gee, Scully, there's something erotic about making love when your
mother knows that's exactly what we are doing..." he teases.

"Erotic?  You are so weird, Mulder.  It's more like the human
equivalent of throwing a bucket of cold water on me," she tells him,
seriously wondering how he could think that was erotic.

"Well, let me see what I can do to warm you up..." he says, moving
over her to kiss her, his hand covering her breast.  "Just tell me
what you need, Scully."

Mulder continues to kiss her softly, his lips and his tongue making
her whole body feel as if it was vibrating, glowing.  He moves his way
down her neck, across her shoulder before taking a nipple in his
mouth, his suction eliciting a low moan that goes directly to his
crotch.  He licks the underside of her breast, his tongue rough
against the tender skin.  He continues down her abdomen, her body
quivering under the feel of his touch, his lips, his tongue. When he
moves lower, she opens her legs for him, her arousal making it almost
difficult for her to move.

"God, Mulder..." he hears as part of her moan just as the tip of his
tongue touches her clitoris. He looks up at her, her arms spread out
on the bed, her eyes closed in an ecstasy that he had almost
forgotten, but remembers so well.  He is relieved to find her already
so wet, knowing she was worried that she would have difficulty.  He
holds her folds open with his fingers, licking and sucking before
inserting a finger.  Her entire body is trembling, her breathing
becoming erratic between her sighs and moans.

Scully moves her leg from his shoulder, placing her foot flat on the
bed as her body begins to writhe from his actions.  When he takes her
clitoris fully in his mouth, her back arches and she climaxes
immediately when he sucks it, holding it between his lips until she
calls out to him. "Mulder! God...I can't...God, please..." she
whimpers, unable to withstand the sensations of her climax, now almost
painful.  He stops what he is doing and lays his head on her abdomen,
recognizing her scent and the depth of her orgasm as physical proof of
her love for him.

Finally, she calms enough to reach for him, her fingers filtering
through his hair.  He moves up over her then, smiling at her as she
tries to focus her eyes to his.  But before she can, he enters her and
her eyes close of their own accord, her body barely under her control.  
Mulder stops, his head dropping to her shoulder, his body unable to
move from how good she feels. "Scully... I don't think I can move," he
says, his voice deep and thick.

Scully begins to move under him, her hips starting to undulate slowly,
her breasts rubbing against the hair on his chest. She kisses his
shoulder, her hands never stopping as they slide over the skin of his
arms and his back.  "I love you so much," she whispers into his ear.

Mulder raises himself a bit further up on his elbows to look at her,
his hips now moving in rhythm to hers.  Their eyes never leave each
other, Scully beginning to smile at him, his expression still almost
painfully serious. "Relax, Mulder...we've done this before..." she
teases him softly.

"But I was so afraid we would never do it again..." he is able to say,
a tear from his lash dropping on her cheek, his emotions finally
getting the best of him...and her.

"Just love me, Mulder...that's all we need right now," she tells him,
lifting her head to kiss him.  His thrusts become more rapid, more
difficult for her to keep up with as he pushes himself up, his elbows
now extended.

"Scullllleeeee...." he yells, then groaning an equally loud
"Uhhhhhhhhhh, God!!!" before lowering himself, managing to lie to the
side of her, before collapsing onto his back.  His panting breath
echoes in the dark, quiet room, the sound of his beating heart and
rushing blood pounding in his ears.

Scully moves onto her side, her head lying on his chest, her hand
rubbing slowly over his ribs, his abdomen.  "You know, Mulder, I think
you could've been just a little bit louder.  I don't think Mr. Jarvis
in the building next door quite heard you," she teases him dryly.

Mulder wraps his arm around her, stroking her arm that is around his
middle before taking hold of her hand.  "I hope he did hear me,
Scully.  Then the poor old bastard can eat his heart out knowing what
I'm in here doing to you..." he says, still unable to totally calm
himself.  Scully snickers and kisses Mulder's chest, then rubs her
cheek against the perspiration on his torso.

Scully moves up to lay over his body, slipping her arms under his
shoulders before kissing him softly on his lips, lingering a few
seconds before speaking. "Thoughts of being with you again, my
beautiful memories of us, our lives with William, got me through
everything, Mulder.  I hope you know that..." she tells him, giving
him another soft kiss.

"Thank you for telling me that, Scully. Thank you," he says softly.

"But I don't have to think about past memories anymore...I don't have
to look only to the past to find better times...I can remember now."  
Mulder covered them with the blanket, both of them drifting off to
sleep.

ZURICH, SWITZERLAND
Same time

"Turn it off.  Turn it off for God's sake!" the man tells his
assistant.  "I've heard enough."

"You still can't stomach this business, can you Mr. Eastman?" the
other man says to him between puffs on his cigarette.

"You aren't listening to them to get information.  You're simply a
disgusting voyeur, Mr. Spender," Eastman says, not hiding the ire he
feels for this man.

"If they have any information from that warehouse, I'd think you'd be
quite pleased if I found out about it, Mr. Eastman.  Don't act like
you don't have any interest in this," Spender says to him, his
condescending smirk almost more than the other man can tolerate.

"I'm deceased now, as are you, Mr. Spender. No matter what they find,
it doesn't concern me anymore.  And if you were wise, it shouldn't
concern you," Eastman finishes, standing from his chair as a signal
for his assistant to escort the man out.

"Well, I'll always be interested in what Mulder does...always, Mr.
Eastman," Spender says, grinding his cigarette out in the crystal
ashtray as he stood to leave. "I'll be in touch..."

Eastman watches the other man leave, looking out the window to see his
car exit the driveway of the stately grounds.  He then turns to his
assistant, who had seated himself back at the computer, again turning
up the voice monitor to Scully's chip, hearing only the steady breath
of sleep.

"Deactivate it," Eastman says authoritatively, turning to look away
from the monitor.

"Sir?" his assistant questions.

"I said deactivate it," he says again firmly. "All of it?"

"No, just the thought processes. Leave the medical components active,"
he clarifies, almost a melancholy to his voice.  "And make it
permanent.  Let Ms. Scully and Mr. Mulder live their lives."

THE END

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