Progeny (9/9) by Zephathah Disclaimers and such in part 1. Missing chapters available at http://zephathah.tripod.com/ ________________________________ Chapter 9 ________________________________ Mulder glanced over at his partner. She was still staring out the airplane window, lost in thought. They were heading back to D.C. after two weeks in Minnesota. It had been two weeks of bitter cold wind, tightly strung nerves, hair-trigger tempers, and drafty motel rooms that thankfully boasted a connecting door. Two weeks of searching for three lost children whose bodies would probably never be found. A man had been arrested for their murders, but that was the best they'd been able to do. They had sniped at each other during the days and huddled together for comfort during the nights. It had taken them a little while to get back in the groove of being in the field, and perhaps some of the tension had come from that, but eventually they'd settled in to do their jobs. He could admit it now - he had worried about Scully. He needn't have. She was still recovering from the emotional trauma of all that had happened, but when *weren't* they recovering from some sort of trauma? Scully's concern for the missing children during the case had been the outrage of any sane, moral adult - not the soul-wrenching anguish he had feared, the pain of a mother who'd lost her own children. She was an FBI agent, and that meant she could do more than watch and wait, as the grief-stricken mothers of the victims had to do. She'd had the training and authority she'd needed to track down and apprehend the perpetrator. Now they were winging their way back home, to see what else the world would fling at them to discover, to investigate, to solve. Did she still want to get out of the car? To settle down, have a house - and a family? And if she no longer wanted that, if she instead wanted to stay and fight, with him, was that one more thing he'd taken from her? The very *desire* for a normal life? He reached out and touched her hand, intending-- he didn't know what. Maybe to try to convince her, one more time, how she'd be better off if she'd never met him. But at the first pressure of his fingers, she turned her hand beneath his until they were palm to palm. Without turning to face him, she slowly brought his hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Scully?" he asked, a little uncertainly. She still seemed far away, in her own world. She squeezed his hand and laid it against her cheek, closing her eyes. "I'm ready now," she said finally, her voice sad but revealing an underlying strength. She faced him, and his hand automatically slid behind her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. Her eyes bore into him. "I'm ready to see them." ******** The information the Gunmen had provided included names, an address, and background on Sarah and Jonathan Lerner and their year-old twins, Caroline and Jonas. Sarah was a professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill; Jonathan worked from home and looked after the kids during the day. The file folder containing this information was in the bottom drawer of Mulder's desk in his apartment, where he had carefully stowed it the morning after the Gunmen's unexpected visit. Mulder and Scully flew into D.C. on a Thursday. That Saturday, they drove to North Carolina. The ride south was filled with silences. Mulder drove; Scully slept, or stared out the window, or studied Mulder, or looked through the folder lying on her lap one more time. From time to time, one of them would reach across the seat to lay a barely-felt touch on the other's hand or cheek. They hadn't discussed what they would do when they got there. Scully wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't sure what to feel. She remembered the tug she felt when she'd discovered Emily, the need to hold her, to have her. What was she feeling now? It was still confusing, still painful. But she knew where she wanted to be, knew what path she wanted to follow. And she knew who she wanted on that path with her. She wondered how he was dealing with all of this, what pain he kept locked inside when he comforted her so freely. She watched him as he drove, his hands steady, his eyes focused. Had he ever wanted a family, children? Had he ever wanted her children? Or was he glad that she had, for all intents and purposes, given up on ever claiming her lost children? Scully had told him why she needed to see these children who'd been born of her ova but not of her womb. She felt she had a responsibility, a duty, to see they were well cared for, happy. But she wasn't going to North Carolina to take them away from their home and family. Her own life was no place for a child, and these two already had their own place, with parents who loved them. Using her folded jacket as a pillow, she closed her eyes and tried to banish the images of laughing, playing children who had hair in as many different colors as could be seen in the flames of a fire. **** It hadn't been difficult to get a map of the neighborhood where the Lerners lived. Mulder found his way through it with ease and parked on the side of the road, next to a park that stretched for several blocks. Mulder reached out to hold her hand as they stepped on to the sidewalk. They had forsaken their FBI-best, and both were dressed casually in jeans and sweaters. She could almost believe they were any other couple, strolling along this tree-lined street in the heart of suburbia. The street addresses were clearly painted on the curb in front of each house. 2305, 2307, 2309... 2311. They stopped a house away from the green-shuttered Colonial with 'Lerner' in block letters on the mailbox. It was a mild day, and they could see the front door was open to let a breeze in through the screen. The screen door opened, and Scully's heart jumped in response. Her hand jerked in Mulder's, and he gripped it harder. A women came out with an empty double stroller, which she bumped down the porch steps to the front walk. She turned back to the house, where a man was attempting to close the door behind him while balancing a small child in each arm. She laughed at the comical, frustrated expression on his face and said, "Let me take Jonas from you, hon." The woman walked up the steps and grasped one red-haired toddler under the arms, lifting him to her hip, where she bounced him gently. He giggled in response, patting her face with his hands. The man succeeded in closing the door, and when he turned to follow his wife, Scully could see the waving arms and babbling mouth of the other child. Caroline. Her father hefted her more securely into his arms and carried her down the steps to the stroller. Jonas was almost secured in the stroller when Jonathan Lerner approached with Caroline, but at the sight of his sister he squirmed in his mother's hold until he was half out of the carriage. Both children were smiling and talking nonsense to each other, and their parents handled them deftly and with good humor, wrestling them into their stroller. Scully found she had somehow gravitated closer to Mulder's side as they watched this family prepare for their outing, and now his arm was wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned into him. She slid her arm around his waist and looked up at him. His eyes revealed similar emotions to her own, sad and utterly amazed as he focused on the children. She felt Mulder's whole body stiffen as he startled. The Lerners had managed to contain their unruly twins and were now walking along the sidewalk towards them. Automatically, they stepped aside to let the family pass. The couple smiled and nodded, then continued on their way, barely pausing in their own chatter with each other and the children. Mulder and Scully turned to look after them, not moving until the Lerners had turned into the park and disappeared from view. **** Later, Sarah would wonder why the face of that nice-looking woman they'd seen stayed in her head all day, and why she seemed almost familiar. Must be the red hair, she thought. Maybe Caroline would grow up to have hair that vibrant color. And as Jonathan fell asleep that night, he would remember the intense gaze of the unknown man who held his wife so reverently in the curve of his arm. He'd noticed how still they were, a point of utter calm as a light breeze swirled around them. They'd both turned to watch as the stroller passed. Jonathan was used to smiles, commiserating and joyful, at the sight of his twins. This couple had offered no such expressions, but their eyes had stayed glued to his family. He couldn't quite figure out what it was about them that stuck in his mind. Despite their outward appearance of utter conventionality, they had looked a little lost here in this most conventional of neighborhoods. That was it: they looked at his run-of-the-mill family - his wife, their children, and himself - as if they'd never seen such a thing before, maybe never believed it could exist. Jonathan had greeted them with a quick nod, which they had returned. He had perceived them as being quiescent, but when he looked in their eyes, it was almost as if he could feel roiling energies underneath that calm exterior. He wondered what their lives were like, that they held this hard shell of integrity around them, binding them to each other, yet setting them apart from people like himself and his family. Then he heard one of the babies start to cry - probably Caroline, she usually started it. And of course, Jonas came in right on cue, and all thoughts of the couple he'd seen earlier that day slipped from his mind. ******** They headed back to D.C. that night. Once she'd seen Caroline and Jonas with her own eyes, Scully found she was ready to go home without any further contact. It had been enough. And if they stayed, even just overnight with plans to leave in the morning, she couldn't quell the doubt that she might want more - to see them again, to hold them... Her perfect children. Perfectly normal, perfectly happy. She felt tears threatening and blinked them back. It was too late for her and her perfect children. She had a different future now. As the car sped north on I-95, their brief visit to North Carolina took on a surreal quality. She wondered what it would feel like in a week, in a year, in ten years. Sometimes her whole life felt surreal. It was so different from how she'd imagined it would be, rewarding and agonizing in ways she could never have foreseen when she joined the FBI. Too many thoughts whirled in her head, blanketing her mind with a fog she was unable to penetrate. Lost in the innumerable variations of how her life might have been and how it might be, Scully barely noticed when thoughts became dreams and she slipped into a restless slumber. ******** She came to awareness suddenly, a scream barely stifled in her throat. Part of her was still lost in sleep, until her senses reported in one by one. First she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her and the warm hands soothing her. She could feel tracks of wetness down her cheeks; she'd been crying in the dream. Then the familiar smell of her apartment - she was home, in her own bed, safe. And Mulder was there; his scent surrounded her. She heard her own heaving breaths, ragged and hoarse, and Mulder's soft words whispering in her ear. "Shhhhhh. I've got you, Scully. It's only a dream. Shhhhh. You're ok." She turned into him, pressing her face to the warm skin of his chest. Her arm crept around his back and she clung to him, close to panic even as the dream faded from memory. He held her tightly, rocking slightly back and forth until her breathing calmed and she relaxed against him. He lay back, holding her in the curve of his arm, her head resting on his chest. Her skin was chilly to the touch, and he rubbed her back and arms to warm her. Once she was fully awake and back in control of herself, she pulled away, giving him a soft kiss of reassurance before turning her back to him and spooning against his side. He followed her movements until he was curled around her, one arm tucking her to him. He didn't press her to talk, though he knew she wasn't even trying to go back to sleep. Her eyes remained open but unfocused. Her arms folded themselves tightly in front of her body for protection - against what, she didn't know. She registered Mulder's presence as the source of warmth at her back and the comfortable weight that lay across her middle. After a time, she began to speak, telling him of her fears, her hopes. How she had thought she wanted to be a mother, how she had thought she wanted more than anything the children who had been stolen from her. That it frightened her, to need him so much she was willing to sacrifice her own child to save him. That she no longer felt in control of her own future. He listened without commenting or judging; he just held her. He recognized it was easier for her to tell him these things if she didn't have to look at him while she spoke. He made no attempt to get her to face him, though he wished he could see her eyes, to help him understand the thoughts and feelings behind the words. She fell silent, and neither of them moved or spoke for some time. Then she turned to him, looking up at his familiar features, barely visible in the near-darkness. "Do you understand, Mulder? Do you understand why I'm scared? I thought I was strong; I thought I could handle anything. But I can't handle the thought of losing you." Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes, and she let them fall unchecked. "I feel like a horrible person because I let my own child die. You're the most important person in my life, and you could be taken from me at any moment, without warning. "I feel guilty because I let him die, but I refuse to feel guilty for loving you. How can I make the choice between your life and someone else's? How far will I go to save you?" "Do you regret your choice?" Mulder asked quietly. "Did I even have a choice?" "We always have a choice, Scully." His fingers stroked her temples as he spoke. "Sometimes I feel like I'm on a speeding train that's running out of track, but it was my choice to get on the train." She searched his eyes, trying to see the truth in them. She considered her actions over the past few weeks and began to speak again, hesitantly this time. "When we were in that house, and Sczerba shot you-- there was never a moment when I could have left you there. After it happened... I wondered why God or the Fates had forced me to make such a decision, to choose between you and my son. But I think... I think we're both right, Mulder." She paused, clearly trying to find the words for what she was discovering within herself. "I didn't have a choice at that moment, because I had already chosen, a long time ago. Maybe there was once a time when I would have gone to Justin instead-- I didn't even realize that had changed. He was my last chance, Mulder." Her voice broke, but forced herself to keep talking. "My last chance to be somebody's mother. But what I discovered is that you're more important to me. *We* are more important. Our friendship, our work, our future." Abruptly, her eyes hardened, and she grasped his chin firmly in one hand. "Don't you dare feel guilty about that. I can see it in your eyes; you're beating yourself up already." He dropped his eyes, but she pulled his chin up until he looked at her. She spoke deliberately, enunciating each word. "If you're guilty, then so am I. Do you remember the bridge, Mulder? Do you remember saving me, when you could have saved your sister?" "She was a clone," Mulder said, refusing to accept her logic. "But you didn't know that," she replied implacably. "Should I still feel guilty because of that? Should I have felt guilty then, when I realized I was jeopardizing your quest by becoming so important to you?" Mulder was shaking his head and drawing breath to speak, but she laid two fingers on his lips and continued. "I did feel guilty," she said softly. "I was distracting you, taking you away from your work, doing with friendship what I had been assigned to do with science." Mulder tried once again to interrupt, but this time she covered his mouth with her whole hand and glared at him. "Let me finish." He nodded, and she dropped her hand. "I thought if I threw myself into the work, if I made up for what I'd taken from you, then it would be ok, and I wouldn't have to feel guilty anymore. And I don't. I have to believe that our partnership has meaning, that together we are greater than the sum of our parts." She found his hand and twined their fingers together. "But somehow I forgot there were two sides to that. I'd accepted my importance in your life, but I thought I could keep my independence. I thought I could stop myself from needing you so much," she said, looking at him steadily. "But it's too late. It has been for years; I just didn't know it. You are as essential to me as air and water, Mulder. Never doubt that." Mulder had lowered his eyes again and seemed almost embarrassed. She ran her fingers through his choppy hair and pulled him to her, nuzzling the side of his face. His fingers tightened convulsively around hers, and she remembered how his words had struck her, when he had told her she was his one in five billion. She untangled her hands and framed his face, bringing their foreheads to rest against each other. How many times had they touched like this, when the moment cried out for sharing pain, trust, love. "Do you think you're the only one who would go to the ends of the earth to save their partner?" He shook his head slowly, brushing his forehead back and forth against her skin. "You would find me and bring me back." "Yes, I would." She pulled back a few inches to see his eyes. "And that will never change, so you'd better get used to it." He smiled faintly, then it faded as he remembered her pain over having sacrificed Justin for him. "But will you get used to it?" She thought about it carefully, wanting to be as accurate and honest as she could. "Mulder, you are my best friend. I needed to figure out for myself what that means." Slowly, then with increasing certainty, she continued, "We've been to hell and back together. Who I am today is because of my life with you. *You* are part of who I am. And I am a part of you. I wouldn't have it any other way." Mulder wrapped his arms around her, securely, tightly. "Scully, you're the best part of me," he whispered. She squeezed him harder, pressing a kiss into the side of his neck. She pulled back and kissed him again, this time lightly on the lips. "Thank you, Mulder." His brows rose in surprise, and he asked, "For what?" "For being in my life. For being you. For knowing when to push and when to back away." She traced the outline of his lips. "Thank you for loving me." She bent and kissed his eyes closed, then relaxed into his arms. The silence of the night surrounded them, and they drifted off to sleep, warmed by each other's presence. ******** fin end part 9/9 of Progeny This story is available in its entirety at: http://zephathah.tripod.com/ AUTHOR'S NOTES: The idea for this story came to me in a flash one night while I was trying to fall asleep (which resulted in a late night raid on the computer, typing furiously to Shoshana). It started out almost as an excuse for ScullyAngst and Comforting!Mulder, but discussion with my beta readers uncovered more serious questions: Was Scully meant to be a mother? Does she really have a 'mother's love' for the children created from her ova? If a child was left at her doorstep, yes, I can see her rearranging her life to care for the child, but what if she had a choice? This story is an answer to those questions. The smut was completely unintentional; the characters took over the keyboard and wrote it themselves. I hope you've enjoyed the ride, and thanks for reading! I'll take one more opportunity to mention how amazing my beta readers are. They helped me straighten out everything from awkward sentences to tangled plot lines. Shoshana and T, thank you for your unending support and encouragement, and for keeping me from making a complete fool of myself every time I post a story... Many thanks also go to DB for the title. I want to hear from you! Please send feedback to zephathah@yahoo.com begun: November, 1999 finished: February 7, 2000