Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on the X-FILES belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Production, FOX networks, DD, GA, etc. and are used without permission. THERE WILL ALWAYS BE A PLACE by Curtis Stigers, Willie Niles and F. Lee and WHERE I USED TO HAVE A HEART by Craig Bickhardt are used without permission. The character of Mark Lacey is mine but he's as poor as I, so don't bother to sue either of us... This is part 8 of a 12 part series, a sequel to TWELVE RITES OF PASSAGE. If you haven't read that story, you may want to read it first.. TWELVE DEGREES OF SEPARATION No. 8: April There Will Always Be a Place By Anne Haynes The third weekend of April was the first really beautiful weekend of Spring, and Fox Mulder planned to spend it in two different cemeteries, two different cities. It was a pact he and Dana Scully had kept for four years now, spending the third weekend in April together, remembering the ones they'd loved and lost to their noble but costly pursuit of the truth. But this year, Scully wouldn't be joining him in Boston. And though he would fly to Washington Saturday evening as planned, it was only because Margaret Scully had asked him to come there. Not Dana. Probably not ever again. He spent Saturday morning with Samantha, reading the newspaper as she worked on her wedding invitation list. Since March, he'd spent most of his spare time with his sister, comforting himself that at least one of his impossible dreams had come true, even if the other never would. But he also recognized that Samantha wasn't really the little sister he'd lost over twenty-five years ago. All the in-between time had changed her, not just physically but emotionally as well. She was much less contemplative than his brainy baby sister had been. Grown-up Samantha was impulsive, daring--even reckless. It drove him nuts, but he had to admit he found her utterly charming. Whatever her life away from them may have taken from her, it had also given her. She'd been lucky after she was returned--her foster parents had been good, loving people who'd eventually decided to adopt her. They had visited Samantha and his mother in January, and Samantha had talked him into coming to their mother's home to meet them. Mulder had liked Ray and Linda Chandler. Even his mother, who'd been reluctant to meet them, had been charmed by their openness and obvious love for Samantha. Mulder had been more than a little hurt by Samantha's decision to have her adoptive father give her away at her wedding. But he understood. The Chandlers had been a much bigger part of her life than he had. It was right, even if it was painful. Although he was no longer certain he would have the consolation of escorting Scully down the aisle. Over the past month, he and Scully hadn't completely lost contact. He'd called her to try to apologize, and though she hadn't hung up in his face, she had asked him to give her some space, and he was. But every moment they spent apart seemed more and more like forever. "Do you have Walter's address?" Samantha interrupted his thoughts. He stared at her. "Walter?" "Walter Skinner." Mulder almost laughed, but his stomach was hurting too much. "Why?" "Well, I met him at the Scullys' at Christmas, and he seemed like a very nice man. And you yourself told me how much he'd done to help you and Dana these past few years." "Yeah, he's a real pal." His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. Samantha stared at him. "What does that mean?" He grimaced. "Remember I told you I ran into Scully with another man? How that led to--" He groaned inwardly, remembering that humiliating moment in Elaine Henderson's living room when he'd watched Dana Scully turn and walk out of his life--probably for good. Samantha's eyes widened. "You're not saying--?" "It was Skinner." Samantha shook her head. "Fox! He's almost old enough to be her father. How could you have ever thought--" "He's not that much older, and, well, Scully's always liked older men." Jack Willis had been a good ten years older than Scully, he remembered. "Honestly, Fox, you men can be so incredibly stupid sometimes." He couldn't argue with that. "How could you jump to such a ridiculous conclusion? And worse, how could you have tried to pick up another woman right there in front of her?" Because I'm a complete, total, A-1 loser. "How much longer are you going to beat me up about this, Samantha? Because you're not telling me anything I don't know. And you're not making things any better." She frowned at him. "Dana always said you had a self- destructive streak. I was hoping you'd changed." He glared at her. "Sorry I've disappointed you and the rest of the world. Again." He headed for the door, grabbing his jacket. "Fine, go!" Samantha followed him to the door. "And remember this, Fox Mulder. You're not the only one this is affecting, you know! I haven't talked to Dana in almost three weeks. It's too uncomfortable now. I might be losing one of my best friends because you're too damned insecure to hold onto the best thing that ever happened to you!" Mulder slammed the door shut behind him. Did Samantha think he didn't know what a mess his life was? Did she think he'd screwed things up on purpose? He stopped in the middle of the stairs. My God, he thought. Did I do it on purpose? Am I that afraid of loving Dana Scully? * * * * * Scully spent Saturday morning cleaning her apartment from top to bottom, using the physical labor to numb a part of herself that had been aching like a sore thumb ever since that morning in March when she'd seen Fox Mulder emerge from Elaine Henderson's bedroom wearing nothing but his black silk boxers and a guilty look. Nothing--not the icy facade she'd cultivated as a woman trying to hold her own in a man's world, not the toughened hide that came with the territory of six years as Mrs. Spooky--nothing had been able to protect her from the white hot agony that bolted through her at that moment. Damn him. Damn his stubborn pride and his reckless impulses. Damn his lean good looks and sexy smile that could get him into any bed he wanted. And damn him most of all for trying to get into Henderson's bed instead of hers. She was pretty sure she knew what had happened to make things go so terribly wrong. She hadn't told him she was going to the party because Skinner hadn't asked her to accompany him until that very afternoon. She'd barely had time to run home, shower, and find a suitable dress. And, no doubt, Mulder had seen her with Skinner and jumped to every stupid, implausible conclusion in the book. It was one of his greatest--and most frustrating--talents. From there, however, she stopped understanding and started hurting. For instead of trusting her and waiting for her perfectly rational explanation of the circumstances, he'd gone into his usual reckless mode, looking for the first willing woman to take to bed. Of course, he hadn't gone through with it. A day or so after the party, Henderson had searched her out to tell her that Mulder hadn't even really tried, but Scully had already figured that out. Mulder loved her, even if he'd never said the words. But the fact that he hadn't been able to go through with it didn't help matters that much. After all, infidelity wasn't Mulder's problem. His problem was that while he trusted Scully with his life, he still didn't trust her with his heart. And that was what hurt most of all. * * * * * Mulder drove in silence to the cemetery. An open bag of sunflower seeds sat beside him; he took one and shelled it with his teeth and tongue, spitting the shell out the open car window and eating the seed. By the time the X-Files division had been shut down this last time, he'd gotten Scully halfway addicted to the things herself. One more way he'd corrupted her. One more way she'd burrowed into his soul. In the quiet car, he could almost hear Scully's voice, a memory from last year's trip to his father's grave. "Your mom doesn't understand why you still feel the need to visit your dad's grave, does she?" Trust Scully to cut right to the heart of the matter. "He hurt her badly." "He hurt you, too." Mulder realized he was staring at the empty seat next to him, as if he could will her to materialize beside him. He looked back at the road, chewing his lower lip as he tried not to think of all the years of anguish his father had caused him, directly and indirectly. He thought, instead, of the little things. Building a model airplane together. Watching the New York Knicks on TV. Pitching a baseball with his dad one bright summer morning when Bill Mulder should've been at work and hearing him say, "On a day like today, Fox, nothing's more important than playing baseball with you." Few and far between, those days. But that just made the memories more distinct and precious. In the end, his dad was sorry. He wanted so badly to turn back the clock, to make things right. Mulder's mother wasn't there to see his father the night he died, but Mulder was. He knew his father was truly sorry, and he wouldn't deny Bill Mulder his moment of grace. His memories of the night his father died were jumbled, some clear, some murky. But one memory above all others stood stark and dominant in his mind: Scully's arms catching him as he fell through the door of her apartment, when he was so sick with fever and grief that he could barely move. Scully had always caught him, kept him moving, kept him thinking and feeling. The day she'd walked into his office that very first time, he'd thought of her as a millstone, holding him back. But in truth, she had been his cornerstone, holding him upright and strong. And as he parked his car near his father's gravesite, the full force of what he'd lost hit him like a tidal wave. He lowered his head to the steering wheel and cried. He didn't know how much time passed before he heard a soft rapping noise on the window of his car. His heart rate tripled, adrenaline shooting through him. His hand went automatically to the gun he always wore in a holster at his waist. Then he realized he was looking into the soft, sad eyes of his sister, and he relaxed. He opened the door and stepped out of the car. The bright early afternoon sunlight seared his burning eyes. "I'm sorry, Fox. I shouldn't have said those things to you." He stared at her for a moment, surprised that she'd bothered to apologize for what had been, after all, nothing but the truth. "It's okay. You didn't say anything I didn't deserve." "You didn't need the truth, Fox. You needed my comfort, and I blew it. I'm sorry." She opened her arms. He walked into her strong embrace, pressing his hot face against her neck. She held him tightly, stroking his hair with sisterly tenderness. "Oh, Fox, what am I going to do with you? You feel too much. You always did." He wrapped his arms around her waist. For a second, he imagined he could smell the soft, warm, little girl smell of his kid sister. But she wasn't a little girl anymore. He took a deep breath and released her. She looked at him, squinting against the sunlight. "Talk to Dana when you get to Washington. Maybe it's not too late." He nodded, even though he feared he knew the truth. It was too late. A lifetime too late. * * * * * Margaret Scully opened her door to Fox Mulder Saturday evening, not sure what to expect or what to say. Dana had yet to tell her anything about what happened between them, but Fox had confessed everything on the phone a week after the party. He'd sounded like a scared, guilty little boy admitting his crimes, waiting for her to scream and yell and tell him to never call her again. And while certainly she'd been disappointed in him for hurting her daughter and frustrated with his endless capacity for self-destructive behavior, she could no more turn her back on him than she could turn away one of her own children. But she hadn't seen him face to face since then. Not until now. He stood in the doorway, staring down at her, his eyes wary. Untrusting. He made Margaret think of a pet she'd had once, a beautiful, intelligent spaniel mix that had been abused as a puppy. No matter how she'd tried to make the dog see that she'd never hurt him, he'd always flinched when she first put out her hand. Eventually, he would relax and enjoy her petting, but never once, 'til the day he finally died of old age, did the dog manage not to flinch that first time she reached out to him. Fox Mulder always flinched. It was a knee-jerk reaction that had saved his life more than once. But it had cost him much, as well. Margaret was afraid that it had cost him her daughter's love and trust. "I should've gotten a hotel room," Fox said. She shook her head. "Come in, Fox." He walked through the door, his knuckles white where they gripped the handle of his overnight case. He crossed to the sofa and just stood there, looking at the mantle. At the framed photo Dana had given Margaret for Christmas. The picture of him and Dana. He dropped his suitcase and crossed to the mantle. His hand lifted slowly, traced the edges of the frame. "I messed up, Mrs. Scully." "You have to find a way to stop sabotaging yourself, Fox." "I know." "You need to talk to Dana." "I don't think she's going to forgive me." Margaret felt an overwhelming urge to put her arms around him and hold him tight, rocking him as she'd always rocked her children when they were hurt or afraid. But Fox wouldn't let her. She knew that. So she rocked him in her heart and hoped he could feel how much she loved him. * * * * * Dana Scully sat in her immaculately clean apartment and stared at the spotless walls, wishing she had the guts to call her mother and make sure Mulder had gotten there safely. Not that she was ready to tell him all was forgiven. She had yet to decide what she was going to do. But she wanted to know he was okay. After the silence started to get to her, she flipped through her assortment of CD's, looking for something that had belonged to Melissa, as if the music could make her feel her sister's presence. Odd, she thought, that her New Age sister would be a country music fan. But Scully had found that she rather liked her sister's brand of music. A Martina McBride album caught her eye and she put the CD into the player. The songs made her think of Missy, and she crossed to the bookshelf and pulled out her sister's journal. She curled up on the sofa and read her sisters thoughts and emotions, calling Missy to mind. What would she say about what was happening now? What would she tell her to do about Mulder? (He's only human, Dana. He's a man and he made a mistake). She shook her head. It wasn't just a mistake. It was a betrayal. He'd betrayed her trust. He's betrayed the trust she'd believed he had in her. But it was all part of what he was. She'd always known that about him. He'd been fighting demons for as long as she'd known him. She knew that when she let herself fall in love with him. (You love him, Dana. Demons and all). But she couldn't overlook the fact that he'd headed straight for another woman at the first sign of trouble, even if nothing had come of it. He'd jumped to another wild conclusion, then jumped straight into the fire. It was the tried and true Mulder M.O. Scully had been pulling him out of those fires for over six years. But this time, she didn't know if she still had the strength to do it. (Life's short, Dana. Maybe he won't make that mistake again). But she was pretty sure he would. At the next sign of trouble, he'd be off and running again. He'd do something crazy and dangerous. Get hurt or killed. Get her hurt or killed trying to bail him out. Could she live like that anymore? A snippet of the song playing on the CD caught her ear -- maybe because it so perfectly spoke what she was feeling. "Gone without a trace, You left a hollow place, Now there's not a stone to mark, Where I used to have a heart." Scully closed Melissa's journal and pressed the small book against her heart. I miss him, Melissa. I miss him so much. Can I really bear life without him? When the answer finally came, she grabbed her coat and left her apartment. * * * * * Mulder tightened his jacket around him, realizing with a start that his aimless wanderings had led him all the way from Margaret Scully's house to the Potomac. Their place, his and Scully's. He didn't know how long he'd been walking. An hour at least. Probably closer to two. And while he didn't think he'd planned to end up here, he knew that it was not an accident. For he saw a familiar form sitting on the bench near the Reflecting Pool across the mall from the Washington Monument. Red hair washed cherry dark by the lamplights, lifted and caressed by the cool night breeze. Small porcelain doll face in profile, staring out across the ebony ribbon of the Potomac. She looked up quickly when she heard his footsteps. Her expression went from wariness to an almost masklike serenity. "Is this seat taken?" he asked. He saw a glimmer of remembrance in her eyes. A tiny smile flirted with her lips, then retreated. "No, but I should warn you. I'm experiencing intense feelings of guilt." He cocked one eyebrow. "No problem. Guilt and I go way back." He sat next to her, tucking his hands in the pockets of his coat. "How was your flight?" she asked. "Uneventful." "You settled in at Mom's?" "Yeah." "Did you borrow her car or rent one?" "Actually, I walked." "All the way from Mom's at this time of night? You like to live dangerously." "Yeah. I decided to stop and talk to you, after all." He felt a glimmer of hope when her lips curved slightly. She turned to look at him. "I'm no danger to you, Mulder." Yes, you are, he thought. The most dangerous person in the world. "So what kind of intense guilt feelings are you harboring tonight, Agent Scully?" "I'm sorry I didn't come to Boston. We made a pact." He looked down at his hands, touched that after the way he'd hurt her, she still cared about keeping her word to him. "I understood, Scully." "I should have been there for you." "You were." She glanced at him. "I kept hearing your voice in my head. Old conversations we've had about my father," he explained. "I knew why you couldn't come." "I've been thinking a lot about that, too, Mulder." His stomach clenched into a knot. "About you and me?" She nodded. "Have you decided anything?" She nodded again. They remained silent for a long, tense moment. Then Mulder found the courage to ask. "What did you decide?" She turned to look at him, her gaze intense. "I wanted to see if I could give you up completely. But I can't." Relief shot through him. "Scully--" She held up her hand, silencing him. "I'm not through." Apprehension returned, and he swallowed with difficulty. "Your friendship has been the most significant relationship I've ever had, Mulder. It's shaped my life, defined me in ways I can't even comprehend, much less express. And I can't give that up." He thought he was beginning to understand, and the knowledge was bittersweet. "This is the old 'let's just be friends' speech, isn't it?" She shook her head. "No. I'm just telling you that if friendship is all you can give me, that's enough for me." "But you want more?" She nodded. "I want everything with you, Mulder. I want to be your lover, your confidante, your guardian angel. But I can be happy just being your friend." "So you're telling me it's up to me. What I want." "Yes. You have to decide what you want from me. You have to commit yourself to it, because I can't go on wondering when you're going to go off the deep end again. I need some assurance that I'm not going to wake up and find you gone in the morning because you can't handle the intimacy." It was a fair call, he thought. God knew he'd given her more than enough reasons to doubt him. "I'm always going to have insecurities, Scully. I can't help them. They're too much part of me now." "I know. I know you're going to get scared and get crazy sometimes. I've been through six and half years of that, Mulder. And I still want to be with you. But I need you to trust me enough to come to me with your fears, not go running off to somebody else. When you feel the need to run, I want you to run to me. Because there's nobody in the world who'll take care of you like I do, Mulder. Nobody." He felt a soft, hot ache fill his chest, spreading to his throat, filling his eyes. He didn't deserve her, and she might still end up regretting her decision, but he couldn't let her go again. "I know that, Scully. I always figure it out--maybe a little late sometimes, but I always do." She reached over and took his hand. "Look, things may be changing for us soon. Professionally, I mean. So why don't we go slow and get comfortable with each other again this weekend? Nice and easy. It'll give you room to process everything, decide what it is you want. You can tell me your decision when we take our moms down to Keystone Beach for Mother's Day, okay?" He knew what he wanted. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Dana Katherine Scully. But he also knew she needed for him to take time to think it out. She needed to know that his decision was carefully made. So he merely nodded. "Okay." "I'll drive you back to Mom's." "Why don't you come there and stay tonight? We could pick up a change of clothes at your place." He didn't want to let her go yet. "Your mom would be there, so we couldn't get into trouble." She chuckled. "Wanna bet? But I'd love to come stay." He squeezed her hand. "You're not going to regret giving me another chance, Scully." She pulled him to his feet. "Yes, I probably will. At least an hour out of every day. But that's okay. The other 23 hours will make it worthwhile." He turned to her, tempted to kiss her. He wanted to--badly. But something inside told him to wait. There would be another time. The right time. Now that he finally had time back. * * * * * Scully and Mulder got back to her mother's house around ten. Mulder took her overnight case out of the back seat and carried it up the walk for her. Scully didn't protest his gentlemanly behavior as she might have before. She knew he needed to do something for her--some sort of penance for hurting her, she supposed. So she let him. He used the key her mother had given him to open the door. He followed Scully inside and locked the door behind him. "Hi, Mom, I'm home," he called. Margaret emerged from the back of the house, dressed in her favorite green flannel robe and a pair of fuzzy slippers Scully had bought her for Christmas a couple of years ago. Her face, automatically set with a smile for Mulder, registered delighted surprise to see her daughter as well. "Look what followed me home." Mulder motioned his head toward Scully. "Hi, sweetheart!" Her mother hugged her. "Got room for another houseguest?" "Always." Margaret hooked her arm through Scully's. "So, I guess the two of you are speaking again." Scully smiled. Her mother wasn't one to beat around the bush. "Yeah." "Scully, you want your same old room?" Mulder asked. Scully nodded. Mulder took her overnight case down the hall, and she followed him with her gaze. "Is it really okay?" Margaret asked softly. "I think it will be." Scully gave her mother a reassuring smile as she pulled off her jacket and hung it on the coat tree by the door. "We're friends again. And if Mulder thinks he can handle it, maybe we'll be something more." "He does love you, Dana." "I know." "I'd tell you to be patient with him, but I guess after six years together, patience is already one of your strong suits." Mulder came back in the room. "I left the case on your bed. So, girls, the night's still young. Anybody up for Monster- Vision on Channel 8? It's a double header--THE FLY and NIGHT OF THE LEPUS." Mrs. Scully chuckled and murmured in Scully's ear, too low for Mulder to hear. "See--he IS the man for you, honey." She squeezed Scully's arm and smiled at Mulder. "I'll pass, Fox. But Dana loves scary movies. Whenever her dad was home from sea, he and Dana lived for Fright Night Theater. They'd turn off the lights and scare each other silly." Mulder arched his eyebrows at Scully as her mother retreated down the hall. "I thought you said monster movies were mind candy for the emotionally immature." Thanks a lot, Mom, she thought. Oh, well, gotta come clean sometime. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. "I've already seen THE FLY and NIGHT OF THE LEPUS. How do you feel about Hitchcock?" He kicked off his shoes and sat by her. "I live for Hitchcock." "SHADOW OF A DOUBT comes on at 10:30." "Ooh, that's a creepy one." "Want me to pop some popcorn?" "I'll do it." He got up. More penance, she supposed. She watched him disappear into her mother's kitchen. She heard him open one cabinet, heard the sound of rustling cellophane and the click of the microwave oven door opening. He knows my mother's kitchen almost better than I do, she thought. He returned to the living room and sat next to her. She had muted the television, waiting for movie to come on. For a second, silence lingered between them, not quite comfortable. Then he nudged her with his shoulder. "I brought you something. It'll tide you over until the popcorn's ready." He reached into his pocket. She heard the sound of plastic crackling, then he pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds. "Try not to spit the hulls on your mom's carpet. She gets real pissed off about that." She took a handful of seeds from him, leaning her shoulder against his. They sank a little lower into the sofa cushions, propping their sock-clad feet on the coffee table in smooth unison. The silence was no longer uncomfortable, filled by the soft cracking noises of splitting sunflower seed shells and the muted "pop, pop" sounds coming from the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, a shrill "ding" announced that the popcorn was ready. "I'll get it," Mulder insisted when Scully started to move. She watched him unfold his lanky body and head for the kitchen. A bemused smile curled her lips. This penance thing--if I'm smart, she thought, I'll milk it for all it's worth. * * * * * The Memory Party had been Dana's idea. Knowing Melissa would've hated people in black hovering around her tombstone, Dana had decided that before all of Melissa's family and friends went to the cemetery to put flowers on her grave, they should have the biggest, loudest party known to man. Everyone brought a favorite party food and a favorite memory of Melissa. They ate, drank, laughed and remembered. And somehow, remembering Missy's joyful life made the trip to the cemetery seem less painful. Margaret Scully would forever be grateful to her younger daughter for coming up with such a wonderful way to keep Melissa alive. As the anniversary of her older daughter's death approached, Margaret found she could temper her sadness with a sense of delighted anticipation, looking forward to the annual gathering of people who loved Melissa and kept her alive in their hearts and minds. She took a moment to prepare herself in the kitchen as Fox and Dana greeted the guests at the front door. Already she could hear the chatter of voices and the sound of music, a bittersweet reminder of love and loss. "Are you about ready, Mrs. Scully?" Fox popped his head into the kitchen. He looks like a new man, she thought with a secret smile. Amazing what a little forgiveness can do. She held out her hand to him, and he took it in his, leading her out into the living room. She looked out into the faces of those gathered, recognizing the warmth and love. Oh, Missy, she thought, you'll never really be gone, will you? Not as long as we remember. "I didn't know Skinner was going to be here," Mulder murmured to Scully as he carried an empty pitcher of tea into the kitchen. She looked up at him, her eyes a little wary, and he felt a sharp pang of guilt. "I didn't know he was coming, either." She hacked open a lemon, spraying juice across the kitchen counter. He put his hand over hers, stilling her almost violent movements. "I didn't mean it to be an accusation." She sighed and put down the knife. "I'm sorry." He caught her other hand and pulled her around to face him. "I know you said I should wait until next month to give you my decision, Scully, but I know what I want. I want you." She leaned her forehead against his collarbone. "I know. I just want to take it slow. We have a lot of options to consider. Besides, we're still not really comfortable with each other. Not yet. We have to get back to where we were before we can go forward." He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. The sheer passion flowing from her vibrant blue eyes washed over him. He had trouble catching a breath. "If you keep looking at me like that, Scully, I'll be tempted to skip right past where we were before and go right to where no man has ever gone before." "What makes you think no man has ever gone 'there' before?" She pulled her hands out of his, arching her eyebrows at him. Her enigmatic little smile haunted him long after she rubbed past him and went back to the living room. He gulped down a full glass of iced tea before he trusted himself to return to the party. Despite Mulder's attempts to avoid the A.D., Skinner caught up with him a few minutes later. "Mind if I have a word with you, Agent Mulder?" He nodded toward the hallway. Mulder sighed and followed the older man. He leaned back against the wall and narrowed his eyes. "Yes, sir?" "I wanted to let you know that your application for transfer back to Washington has made it past the internal review. It'll still have to get the green light from the Director's office and the Executive Branch, but I'll do what I can to push it through." Mulder tried not to show his surprise. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it." "Well, I was never pleased with your transfer out of the X- Files in the first place. I hope you and Agent Scully both know that." "Yes, sir." Skinner bent his head forward, lowering his voice a bit. "I realize I'm about to tread into something that's really none of my business, but I hope that I'm right in assuming that you and Agent Scully have resolved any difficulties that may have arisen between you as a result of our last encounter." Mulder felt a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. He knew that Scully had no romantic feelings for Skinner, but he couldn't forget the almost proprietorial air of Skinner at the president's anniversary party. "Everything's fine, sir." "I hope so. I didn't enjoy watching Dana suffer." Okay, Mulder thought, that was definitely a threat. And he called her Dana again, just like at Christmas. "I didn't know that you were so concerned with Dana's personal life." Skinner's tight little smile just made Mulder want to sock him. "Let's just say that Dana's happiness is important to me." "What are you trying to tell me, sir?" Mulder could almost see the cloud of testosterone billowing up between them. Alpha males, he thought, staking claim to Dana Scully. But Skinner's next words threw him for a loop. "I'm trying to tell you that if you hurt Maggie's daughter again, I'll make you very sorry." "Maggie's daughter..." Skinner took a step back. "Yeah." He frowned, as if he'd let something slip that he hadn't intended. "Oh, my God." Mulder stared. "You and Mrs. Scully?" Now the A.D. looked downright uncomfortable. "We're just friends." Mulder released a soft bark of laughter. "Where have I heard that before?" Skinner's lips twitched slightly. "Look, Dana doesn't know I'm seeing her mother, okay? Maggie wants to wait and see if things develop before she says anything." "And are things? Developing, I mean." Skinner leaned against the opposite wall. "You know, Mulder, I'm not exactly comfortable talking to you about this." "Just think of me as Mrs. Scully's son." Mulder folded his arms across his chest. "The one who actually shows up for family gatherings," he added with a wry smile. Skinner actually chuckled. The sound was so surprising, it was all Mulder could do to keep from gaping. "Do the Scully sons actually exist?" Skinner asked in a conspiratorial whisper. "Not that I can tell," Mulder answered, his voice equally low. "I've seen pictures, but..." "What are you two doing, plotting the overthrow of the FBI?" Scully stood in the hallway, hands on her hips. "We're getting ready to clean up and head for the cemetery." Skinner darted a warning look at Mulder as he pushed away from the wall. "Speaking of overthrowing the FBI, Dana, I take it you haven't told Mulder about what's happening." Mulder quirked his eyebrows at Scully, surprised to see her face redden slightly. "Not yet. I was waiting until you got confirmation," she said. "I got it today." "What's going on?" Mulder looked from Scully to Skinner, his stomach tightening. "Next week, Thomas Shea will be turning in his resignation as Director of the FBI. We've been expecting it for over a month, ever since his wife Jeanette was diagnosed with leukemia," Skinner said. "President Matheson wants Skinner to replace Shea as Director," Scully added. "And he's told Skinner that he wants a feasability study on reopening the X-Files division." Mulder leaned against the wall, his legs momentarily too wobbly to take his weight. Reopen the X-Files? "It'll have to go through channels," Skinner warned. "You know as well as I do that even as Director, I'll have people to answer to. People who aren't going to be as open to the idea as I am. But I'll do what I can--assuming I'm actually nominated and my nomination makes it past the Senate hearings." He nodded slightly, then went back into the living room. "Scully, just think--" She moved a little closer to him, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Believe me, it's all I've done since Skinner told me about it the night of the Matheson's anniversary party." So that's why she was there with Skinner, Mulder thought. He kicked himself mentally a few times just in case he hadn't already beaten himself up enough. "I can't believe you haven't told me this before." "I should have," she admitted. "I guess I was just avoiding it." "Why?" She backed away, pressing her spine flat against the wall opposite him. "Because I'm not sure I want to go back to the way things were before you left for Boston." He slumped against the wall as her words got through to him. "Oh, Scully. That's what they'd expect, isn't it?" She nodded. "It's not a written rule, Mulder, but we all know how the Bureau looks on partners getting involved." He shook his head. "The Bureau's already screwed the hell out of my professional life. I'm not going to let it dictate my personal life." "Even if it means turning our back on the X-Files?" He sighed with frustration. "Why can't we have both?" "Maybe we can." She brushed her copper hair away from her face, her expression a mirror of his own torn feelings. "But maybe we can't, either. And we need to do some long, hard thinking about that. Because it may well come down to a choice. The X-Files or being together." He shook his head, helpless to find words to express his turmoil. Six years ago, the choice would have been so simple. Six years ago, nothing else mattered. But now, something else did. Someone else did. * * * * * Walter Skinner found Margaret Scully alone in the kitchen. Safe from prying eyes, he allowed himself a swift kiss on the side of her neck. To his delight, she blushed as she turned and swatted him with a dishrag. "You're an overgrown school boy, Walter." He grinned broadly--an expression he saved for her and her alone. "Don't let that get out. I have a reputation, you know." "I know. Fox has been very forthcoming." He winced. "Ouch. That boy's delusional, you know." She chuckled. The sound reminded him of her daughter. "That's MY boy you're talking about." "I know. The one that actually shows up for family gatherings." He braced himself for her maternal wrath. But she merely laughed again. "Now who's been talking to Fox?" "I told him about Matheson's plan to make me Director." Her smile faded. "And about reopening the X-Files?" He nodded. "They both want it. I could see it in their eyes." "It just complicates things so much." "I know." She lifted her hand to his jaw, running her fingers from his ear to his chin, trailing fire along his skin. "Can't you do anything to help them?" He turned his face to press his lips into her palm. "I'll do what I can Maggie. I promise." She lowered her hand and backed away as they heard voices approaching the kitchen. By the time Mulder and Scully walked through the doorway, Maggie was several feet away, folding the dishrag and putting it on the counter by the draining rack. Skinner dragged his eyes away from her small, curvy form, knowing Maggie would kill him if her daughter caught him staring and began to put two and two together. Scully crossed to her mother, apparently misreading the slight tension in the room. "How are you holding up, Mom?" Maggie turned to smile at her daughter. "I'm fine. Ready to go?" Scully nodded and hooked her arm through her mother's. Her blue eyes sought out Mulder, and Skinner hid a smile. He'd seen this day coming for years now. He was surprised it had taken this long. Maggie met his eyes as she passed him, the warmth of her gaze filling him with an ache of happiness. After Sharon's death, he'd thought he'd never find someone to love again. But Maggie was impossible not to love. Once he'd begun to consider the possibilities, he'd been lost. Now he just had to convince her she was as madly in love with him as he was with her. * * * * * "And now I want to introduce someone who's loved Missy a long time." Scully held out her hand to the slim, long- haired man who hovered on the fringe of the crowd at Missy's gravesite. He had a guitar strapped to his back; Scully had finally talked him into sharing a favorite song of Missy's for the graveside remembrance. "This is Mark Lacey, and he and Missy shared two years of love, laughter and tears." Mark squeezed her hand, a smile curving his lips even as his eyes spoke of anguish and heartbreak. Impulsively, Scully hugged him. "You can do it," she whispered. Then she backed away, automatically seeking and finding Mulder's lean, handsome face in the crowd. She crossed to his side, stepping naturally into his embrace. His arm held her close as they listened to the soft chords of Mark's guitar. Then he started singing in a whiskey dark baritone. "There will always be a place in my heart, in my heart, No matter what I do, There will always be a place in my heart, in my heart, There's a place for you. The roads that we travel Some of them near, and some of them far We each go our own way I cling to the past, while you reach for the stars." Scully glanced up at Mulder and found his gaze on her. That's us, she thought. Sometimes going in opposite directions, but there's always something that draws us back together. Remember winter, It made you cry, Remember summer That lullaby..." Mulder's arm tightened around Scully, and she blinked back tears, remembering her sister's heartbreaking loss. Baby Dana Margaret, here and gone in two short weeks. She'd never gotten to see her little niece. Never got to say goodbye. "I will remember In the days to come You standing in the wilderness, Laughing in the sun. So wherever you may wander Wherever your restless heart decides to go, No matter the distance, I want you to know. "There will always be a place in my heart In my heart, No matter what I do, There will always be a place in my heart, In my heart, There's a place for you." Scully lifted her eyes to the clouds above, watching the puffy cummuli changing shapes. A heart, a tree, a sheep, a fat rabbit... And an angel, with wings as wide as the world. She smiled at the cloud angel. I miss you, Melissa. I love you. End of #8