Chapter 16b:

"Haven't we met. You're some kind of beautiful stranger."
--"Beautiful Stranger", Madonna

Her hands were shaking when she turned the key in the lock. It pained him to watch, despite the increasing throb in his jaw. It hurt more to be two feet from Scully and unable to wrap his arms around her.

She pushed the door just enough to pop the lock, hefted the file folders in the crook of her arm. But she hesitated to push the door the rest of the way open. Her hesitation caught his attention. He didn't understand.

Scully's hand reached back blindly toward him. He caught her grasp on instinct, adrenaline rushing through his stomach. They clung to one another's wrists. Scully half-turned, didn't look at him. Her grip was like a iron. "Don't...just don't...leave, okay?"

He nodded fervently, squeezed back hard. "I'll be right here as long as you want." He started to move closer, to reach out for her. But in a flash she let go and moved away.

Two years could be a long time.

Scully opened the door. The first thing Mulder saw was a large, furry head. Then the rest of a golden retriever, wiggling and wagging at the sight of Scully's return. *Scully had a dog again.* A big one this time.

She reached down and petted the dog's ears as she stepped across the threshold, and as Mulder watched her hand, he slipped into memories of a hundred subtle touches he had seen that hand give. To victims. To injured co-workers. To her family. To him.

"Well, hello there," Mulder said to the smiling face nosing his hand. "You're a *real* dog, aren't you? Man-sized. And who might you be?"

"This is Tasha," Scully said stiffly, still avoiding eye contact. She dropped her file folders onto a nearby entrance table, swung her briefcase to the floor.

"Have you had her long?"

"She was my husband's. He got her when she was a puppy. She's almost 8 now."

To say this whole moment felt strange would have been an understatement. But he wouldn't have been anywhere else for the world. He ws beside Scully again.

It was the second smiling face to greet Scully that made his chest ache.

From the hallway emerged a young woman, college-aged most likely, pretty, with strawberry-blonde hair; jeans and a snug-fitting sweater. In her arms, she held a baby boy. At the little boy's first sight of Scully, his face lit up with the world's most brilliant smile, and his pudgy little arms stretched out toward his mother.

Mulder couldn't move.

"Careful, kiddo," the young woman said with a laugh as she shifted her precious cargo into Scully's welcoming arms. "Mommy's right there."

Scully kept her back half-turned to Mulder. She lifted the little boy into her arms for a tight embrace, pressing her cheek close to his. "Hey, Little Man," she whispered. And the tenderness in her voice made his stomach hurt. "How's my little guy?"

The young woman turned from the lovely scene of greeting to glance briefly in Mulder's direction. She seemed cautious of the newcomer. Scully caught the vibe and turned to face him. The little boy's face rested comfortably in the crook of Scully's neck. Was it possible to be this jealous of an infant?

"Ashleigh, this is...an old friend of mine..." Scully caught hold of his gaze, silently asking if he was really among the living, if she should use his real name. And this tiny moment of unspoken communication felt better than he could have imagined. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Fox Mulder," Scully finished. "Mulder, this is Ashleigh Dawson. She gives the nanny a break a couple of days a week, when she doesn't have classes."

"Nice to meet you," Ashleigh said softly, and Mulder nodded.

"You, too."

He waited with a knot in his throat for the next introduction. But, Scully showed no signs of taking the plunge.

Ashleigh filled the quiet. "Well, would you believe this guy hasn't napped since I got here? Margarite said he dozed for about half an hour or so this morning, but otherwise he has been awake since you left this morning."

"Mmmm, so you've had quite an afternoon," Scully said dryly.

Ashleigh just smiled and reached out to stroke the little boy's back. "Oh, he was fine. But I'm sure he'll be out for the night by seven, seven-thirty for you. He did eat some cereal and about half his carrots. And he had his bottle about an hour ago."

Ashleigh's hand slid down the child's back onto Scully's arm and over her hand. Mulder saw the injury catch her attention. "Oh, God, Grandma, what did you do to your hand?"

*Grandma?*

Scully pulled back a bit, and he saw the vague surprise and injury wash across the young woman's face. The distance Mulder was inspiring in Scully had obviously spilled over onto someone she was normally close to. *Damn, Scully. Just hit me again.*

"I'm fine," Scully said softly. "I just...hit it on the car door."

Ashleigh frowned, reached out toward Scully's hand again, and this time Scully did not pull away. "It looks like it's swelling, you should get some ice on that..."

Scully nodded. "Yeah." The discomfort in her posture permeated the room. She would have been anywhere but here.

Ashleigh let Scully's hand go with a glance toward Mulder, and for the first time, she registered the damage to his jaw. No genius required to put the two together. She looked back to Scully, holding her eye contact hard now, and Scully nodded reassuringly. Dismissing.

Ashleigh took a hesitant step back. "I, uh...I guess I'll be going."

Mulder took his cue and turned away. He strolled a few feet into the dining room, pretending he was looking over the furniture, the quality of the grand piano. Did Scully ever play the piano? He barely caught Asheigh's whispered, "Dana, you're shaking. Are you okay?" He didn't hear Scully's reply.

When he turned back, Ashleigh had her book bag over her shoulder and her keys in her hand.

"So, you have class tomorrow, right? We'll see you again Monday?"

Asheigh nodded. "Absolutely. Bye, you," she said with a grin and a wrinkle of her nose toward the baby." Then she leaned in and kissed Scully's cheek. "Bye, Grandma."

"Drive safe," Scully said, and she closed the door behind Ashleigh.

Mulder counted to seven before Scully turned back to face him. He paced across the room stopping only a few steps away.

Her move.

She cleared her throat. "Mulder. This is Christopher Patrick. He's six months old."

The thin flutter of vulnerability, and maybe some kind of awe, in Scully's voice brought the reality of the moment on him like a rush of warm air. *Scully was introducing him to her son.*

Mulder reached out hesitant fingers and drew them ever so lightly down the soft cushion of Christopher's cheek. "Christopher," he breathed in wonder. "Is he...I mean...I thought you couldn't...is he...biologically..."

Scully shook her head. "No. He's adopted. But he's ours."

*Ours.*

"How old was he when you got him?"

"Just a couple of days," she said with a soft smile, and he could almost see the memory wash over her. "It was meant to be."

Then she pulled back to the present, pulled away. "You need to get that ice." She settled Christopher onto her hip and started toward the kitchen.

Mulder followed at a cautious distance. "'Grandma?'" he asked.

Scully glanced over her shoulder as she pulled an ice pack from the freezer. With the one-handed skill of an experienced mother, she took a towel from the kitchen drawer and wrapped the ice pack in it. "She calls me that because she knows it annoys me, but..." Scully turned and held out the ice pack to him. "I kind of am, actually. Her step-grandmother." She cleared her throat as he settled the ice pack into place on his jaw. The cold stung despite the padding of the towel. Scully took a second soft-pack of ice and strapped it to her hand with a tea towel. She held the tails of the towel in her fist to keep the ice in place. Christopher squealed and stretched toward the refrigerator until Scully went back and pulled out a cold teether for him.

"She's Maggie's step-daughter," Scully continued, gaze locked on her own hand. Christopher took hold of one of the loose tendrils of her hair and stuck it in his mouth with the teether.

Mulder furrowed his brow. She was edging toward something he should understand, but he hadn't caught on.

"Formerly, Maggie Waterston," she said, and he saw the tendons in her throat tighten.

He got it. "Waterston." His voice was barely a whisper. "You married Daniel?"

Her only response was a sharp sniff, and a lift of her eyebrows. And he realized her eyes had filled with tears. And he couldn't even define where exactly she was hurting. And he needed to understand. Because the world was suddenly upside down and he couldn't get a grip on where he belonged.

"What happened?" he whispered. He wanted to shout angrily, he wanted her to pay for her apparent transgression, to see the cruelty of her betrayal, when all this time he had been...; he wanted a thousand things, but Scully was crying. And all he could think was that he had to make that stop.

"Can we, uh...," Scully lifted the back of her hand to her cheek for a moment, letting the ice pack cool her flushed skin. "Can we go sit down?"

Mulder nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

Christopher sensed his mother's tension. His tiny mouth screwed into a frown. He spit out her hair and reached up and slapped gently at her face. Scully leaned into his touch. She turned and took two bottled waters from the refrigerator door, then led the way into the living room.

Scully took a seat on the couch. She settled Christopher beside her, seated as far from the edge as possible, and spread a wealth of toys before him from the basket under the coffee table. He grasped a plastic pig rattle and began shaking.

Mulder watched Christopher for a moment. "He has such big eyes," he said softly.

Scully nodded. "I know. He just...seems to look right into your soul sometimes. Like he knows everything you're thinking."

"Scully..." She looked up. "What are you thinking?"