DISCLAIMER:  Mulder and Scully and the search for the truth all 
belong to Chris Carter and Co.  I'm just borrowing them.  I 
promise to return them in no worse condition than Chris would.:)
SUMMARY: Eleven months after the events of "Water's Edge", James 
Maley is set to go to trial, Scully is preparing to face the day 
her chip will be removed, and Mulder is wondering where he fits 
in the grand scheme of things, and particularly into Scully's new 
life.
TITLE: HIGH TIDE
AUTHOR: Elizabeth Rowandale (bstrbabs@gmail.com)
RATING: NC-17
CLASSIFICATIONS: SAR, MSR, Casefile, X-File
ARCHIVE: ONLY ON AUTHOR'S OWN WEBSITE UNTIL STORY IS COMPLETED.
SPOILERS: Through US season 7 and, of course, for all of "Water's 
Edge"
TIMELINE: Takes place 11 months after "Water's Edge", continuing 
in that universe.  This universe turns AU sometime after "all 
things" and before "Requiem".

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For reference, I, as the author, do not consider 
this story a "sequel" to "Water's Edge" (though you really really 
need to have read "Water's Edge" to understand this one).  
"Water's Edge" is over.  Done.  I have told the story I wished to 
tell.  "High Tide" is another story, which happens to take place 
in this same universe and carries through certain elements of 
storyline from "Water's Edge".  But it is not "More Water's 
Edge".  It is its own entity.  Just want to make that clear, so 
everyone is on the same page to begin with.  So, without further 
ado...:)
 

With Happy Birthday Wishes to Sybil.:)


HIGH TIDE
by
Elizabeth Rowandale (bstrbabs@gmail.com)
Copyright (c) 2004


Chapter 1:


"Christopher, put it back!  No, no, not the one with jelly, you 
have your white sweater on..."  She was stretching out across the 
grass and the picnic blanket, grasping toward her son, but there 
was laughter in every movement, and the white sweater had already 
met its nemesis.

"Give it up, Scully," Mulder said through his own laughter, 
sitting back on his heels.

"Chris..."

Christopher's bright blue eyes seemed to understand the joke, and 
he took a step back from his mother, shaking the neatly cut 
quarter of a sandwich.  His tiny fingers tightened on his prize 
in his glee and dribbled grape jelly onto his sleeve and the 
grass.

"Cwisfo's sammie!" he squealed.

Scully pushed to her feet, brushing crumbs off the skirt of her 
pale blue sundress.  Her orange hair flashed in the sun.

"You can eat it, sweetie, just bring it back by Mommy first. Just 
let me put your bib back on."

Mulder laughed again and settled in to watch as Christopher gave 
Scully a run for her money, jogging away in his precious little 
waddle, sandwich slopping jelly as he ran.

"Christopher!  Hey, you do not run away from me!"  But the 
scolding did not hold the conviction it should have.  The day was 
too beautiful, the wind too soft, and the grass too inviting.

Mulder took a bite of his own tuna sandwich and luxuriated in the 
simple flavors and the gentle breeze as he watched Scully catch 
hold of her son from behind, swinging him playfully in the air as 
he squealed, her skirt twirling around her thighs (*his* thighs).  
Christopher's sweater was already dotted with purple, and Mulder 
doubted Scully's dress would survive much longer.

"Come here, Little Sticky Fingered Boy," Mulder said, holding out 
a hand as mother and son returned to the picnic blanket.  "How 
about a napkin and a bib, just to keep your Mom happy, eh?  What 
do you say?"

Mulder wiped down Christopher's hands and face with his own 
napkin, dipping the corner in his drinking water and dabbing 
ineffectually at the sweater.  Scully picked up the diaper bag.  
"I could have sworn I brought a Shout Wipe with me...  Or maybe I 
used them up at the restaurant yesterday."

"That was not my fault, maple syrup is never that runny," Mulder 
said, embarrassed laughter mixing with his defensive tone.

"It's okay, you've only been eating for the last forty years or 
so; I can't expect you to have the hang of it yet."

"Sammie!" Christopher shouted, pointing at the sandwich he had 
staked out for his own, now resting on the edge of Mulder's 
plate.

"I know, I know, Buddy, it's coming."  Mulder made a few last 
swipes at Christopher's hands and clothes.  He wiped off his own 
hands and retrieved the sandwich for Christopher, dabbing at a 
spot of purple on his own slacks as he did so, then a spot on the 
white picnic blanket, a spot of...of...not 
jelly...wait...darker...red...Jesus...

He looked up into the sunlight, Scully standing above him, soft 
and beautiful, waves of auburn hair around her shoulders, but 
hand to her upper lip, bright streak of red against white skin as 
the blood trailed from her nose.

"Scully?"

"Mulder, I--Mulde--"  One flash of fear, hooded lids, and then 
she hit the ground.

His ears were ringing so loudly sound didn't make sense.  He was 
across the picnic blanket in a blur, food on his khaki slacks, 
not feeling the soda that spilled across his ankle.  "Scully?  
Scully!  Can you hear me?"  He had her in his arms, sitting up 
cradled against his chest, but she wasn't coming to.

"Mommy!  Mommeee!" Christopher yelled, pulling on the back of 
Mulder's shirt with jelly-covered fingers as he made his way 
around to Scully.  The little boy knew there was something wrong, 
picked up on the horror in Mulder's voice.

And Mulder was scrambling, fumbling for his cell phone off his 
belt, blindly dialing 911.

Christopher was starting to cry, pulling at Scully, knowing his 
mother wasn't right.

Mulder had the phone to his ear, but he didn't even know what he 
was saying.  Scully was lying in his lap, eyes pulling half open 
now and then, but unable to react to the world around her, head 
falling to the side against his arm.  Mulder dropped the phone 
trying to reach for Christopher, to keep him from running off.  
"Stay close, Chris, just--"  He picked up the phone, propped it 
on his shoulder, but his thoughts were only for Scully and the 
notion that he couldn't let go.  Because if he let go, untethered 
her from his connection, this earth...
 
"Scully?" skin so pale "Scully? Can you hear me?" cheeks cold in 
the beating sun "Baby, it's okay.  Hang in there.  Help's coming, 
help's coming.  Scully!  Christopher, stay here!  It's okay, 
Chris, just stay by me, Buddy, Mommy needs help--"

"Mommy.  Want MOMMEEEE!! Mommy WAKE!"--



Mulder jerked awake in a sea of sweat and gasping breath.  "Oh, 
God.  Oh, God.  Scully."

"Mulder?"  Dana Waterston sat up in the midnight shadows beside 
him, sleep clouded and confused and safe and beautiful.  "Mulder, 
what's wrong?  What happened?"

He could barely breathe, let alone speak.  He swiped a hand over 
his face, clearing the prickly sweat from his eyes.  His heart 
was pounding against his chest.  "It's okay," he managed.  "It's 
okay."  He reached out an arm and circled it around her 
shoulders.

"Mulder, what happened?"  The concern in her voice was calming.

"It's okay, Scully.  Just a dream.  Bad dream."

Her warm hand smoothed down the side of his face, caressed his 
ear.  "It's all right.  We're okay.  Christopher's okay."

He nodded, eyes closed, concentrating on slowing his breath.

"Mulder, what is it?  This is the third time in just over a week.  
What's going on?"

But he shook his head.  "It's nothing.  Too much King Street 
Lasagne."

"Mulder--"

He smoothed a clumsy hand down her face to close her eyes, 
"Sleep, G-woman.  It's far from morning," and he guided them back 
into the warmth of the inviting mattress.

Scully settled into her place and he felt the release in her 
limbs, returning to a much needed state of quiet despite her 
protests.

"Mulder, are you okay?"

He kissed her temple and pulled her back tight against his chest, 
her hips snugly spooned with his.  Silk and bare shoulders 
beneath the covers, that was Scully.

"As long as you're here, I'm fine," he said, eyes closed and 
feigning sleepiness.

"I'm right here," Scully whispered, a deep intimacy in her tone 
that soothed him from the inside out.

She shifted and spread her hair up over the pillow case, brushing 
his cheek with the tails.

And for a vivid moment he was back in that sun-drenched park, 
with Scully's limp body in his arms and her hair falling across 
his leg as the blood ran across her lip.  *Jesus...*

"Mulder?"

"Sleep..."

He felt her give in.  She kept her body tight against his, twined 
her fingers through his as he shifted his hand to cup her breast.  
She kissed the arm beneath her neck.  "It's okay," she whispered, 
hoarse voice like a balm to his soul.

He pretended he could sleep again without the echoes of the 
screams.


*****

It was the screams that had first infiltrated his dreams.  Eleven 
months.  Eleven months of injections and the pain had not 
lessened.  Yet she continued to accept the needle.  Continued to 
endure the furious burn as the alien antidote ripped through her 
body.  Tick Tock.  One month to judgment day.  And his heart was 
starting to beat in time with the passing of seconds.

They barely spoke of the chip anymore.  The silence deepened as 
time went on.  They each quietly tracked the dates.  Once a 
month, after Christopher was sound asleep, Scully sat on the edge 
of the living room sofa and offered him the white skin of her 
upper arm.  And he broke that tender flesh and let the acid 
solution singe her blood.  And she would cry out and fall into 
the cushions, and he would fall on top of her and she would claw 
at his arms and bury her face in his shirt.  And eventually, she 
would go quiet, listless and exhausted.  They had come into the 
habit of clicking on the television, letting something play 
softly in the background, anything, to quiet her mind while they 
lay, a soft entanglement of limbs and red hair and displaced 
clothes.

So much like the good times on this couch.

So far away.

They didn't talk about how many shots to go, or what would happen 
near the end of that count, or how she felt about all of that 
these days.  Her quiet determination spoke alone.

And her easy touch against his skin.

But the screams still rang in his ears.

*****

She was already standing in the street, morning sunlight dancing 
in her hair as she gazed across the sparse traffic, cell phone 
pressed to her ear, hand resting on the roof of his car.

He wouldn't drive the Jag to work.  Truth was he loved the Jag.  
He drove it when they went out together on the weekends.  He 
pretended it was no big deal, pretended they took that car 
because the seats were more comfortable for Scully and the 
electronic settings memory made it easier to switch the mirrors 
back and forth between drivers.  But the truth was, he was in Guy 
Heaven when he was cruising along the highway in that gem of a 
car.

But he wouldn't drive it to work.  Because they weren't married.  
And he couldn't afford the car on his salary.  And all the guys 
at work knew that.  So he didn't drive the Jag to work.

This morning, he needed to spend some time at Quantico, so he was 
giving Scully a ride to work.  It was nice, just once in a while, 
to have a few moments together in the morning that weren't spent 
with a toddler in the middle or a nanny hovering nearby.  For a 
few minutes in the car, they could be partners again, out on the 
road with no one to answer to but each other.

He jogged across the street and fished through his pockets for 
his keys as he tossed Scully a smile across the top of the car.  
She held up a finger and nodded with a half-smile, still 
listening to the voice on the other end of the phone.  "Chris 
okay?" she mouthed after a moment.  And he gave her a thumbs-up 
and nodded.

He opened the door, sank into the car, and clicked open Scully's 
side.

"Well, that's great," she said brightly, sinking into the 
passenger seat and passing her briefcase through to the back 
seat.

He watched her in sideways glances as he started the car.

"Okay."  She snapped on her seatbelt.  "That's fine, just call my 
cell.  Okay.  Bye."

She snapped her phone closed and dropped it into her lap.  She 
met his curious gaze with a bright enthusiasm of her own.  "My 
brother's coming into town!"

"Aaanhh!"  In retrospect, probably not his most supportive reply.

To her credit, Scully gave a generous laugh.  "No, *Charles*!"

Mulder's eyes widened as he maneuvered out into the traffic.  
"Charles?  You're kidding me!"

"No.  It's just him without the family, but...  Last minute TDY, 
he's getting in late this afternoon and wanted to have dinner 
with us tonight if we can."

Mulder shrugged and nodded.  "I'm free.  Do we have a sitter?"

"I'll phone Ashleigh, see if she's free.  If not, Charles is 
pretty kid-proof," she added with a soft smile.

Mulder drove on in silence.

"I told him we'd grab him from the airport.  Can you get away a 
little early today?  He's coming into Reagan at 4:30.  If not, I 
can just come back for you, or we can meet somewhere downtown..."

"No, that's fine, I should be able to get away."  Then after a 
moment, "You're okay with this?"

She turned his way, eyebrow lifted.  "With...I'm sorry, okay with 
what?"

He shrugged, giving a bit too much attention to the road as they 
slowed for a stoplight.  "With...introducing me to the family 
like that."

"Mulder, you have dinner at my Mom's all the time."

"That's different."

"No, it's not."

"Yes.  It is."

"Mulder.  Charles is my baby brother.  And you..."

She was gracefully covering her search for a word.  And he pinned 
her with his gaze, not letting her slip away.  Cruel, perhaps, 
but there were another man's rings on the chain around Scully's 
neck and this was something that he needed to hear.  "You're my 
family," she said firmly, meeting the challenge.  "So, no, 
Mulder.  I have no problem with that.  I want you to have dinner 
with my little brother."

He nodded, and tried to stay serious behind his cursory smile.  
But the corners of her mouth were pulling into a grin and the 
playful brightness in her eyes was so rare it was something he 
could never resist (*'Mulder, did you see their eyes?  If I were 
that stoned...' 'Ho-hoo, if you were that stoned, what?'*).  He 
never had been able to.  In the end, without another word spoken, 
they were both smiling, and the sparkle between them was warm and 
comfortable and for that moment Scully was in the car beside him 
and content in his silence, and everything was right with the world.  He reached out and twined his fingers through hers, and she squeezed back hard without looking away from the early 
morning world rushing past her window.

Tick Tock.  Judgment Day was coming.  And he was the instigator.


*****

(End Chapter 1.  Continued in Chapter 2...)

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