Title: Kodomo Tame Ni
Author: White Star 2 (hila-p@barak-online.net)
Rating: PG
Classification: SA
Distribution: Just ask.
Spoilers: Requiem
Keywords:

Summary: Months after his abduction, Mulder is finally returned, 
only to find how much both he and Scully were changed by the 
ordeal. Will this be the end of their partnership?

Disclaimer: In case you're not certain, Ten Thirteen Productions 
own the lot and I am shamelessly kidnapping them to write 
something that the Creator, CC, would never dream of giving us.

Author's Notes: The first scene of this wouldn't stop picking at 
my brain after I saw Requiem. So I wrote it down. The office 
scene wouldn't stop picking at my brain after I saw Paper 
Hearts. So I wrote it down. And then I read something that gave 
me an idea for an ending. So I put them together. And I feel 
evil. Enjoy, and don't forget feedback! 
(hila-p@barak-online.net)

I'd like to thank Orit for badgering me 'till I finished it, and 
Deslea for betaing so thuroughly. And to Aris, for assuring me 
that it's not *that* dark and sadistic and that I've written far 
worse.

* * *

"Mulder," was the first thing he heard when he realized that 
there was light behind his eyelids. He'd wanted so much to hear 
that voice; her voice. He let his eyes flutter open, ignoring 
the headache that it brought on. Seeing her smile was worth it.

She sat down on the end of his bed, her hand moving back and 
forth, smoothing out the hospital sheets. She seemed as happy to 
see him - or see him awake, more likely - as he was to see her. 
But she seemed nervous, too. As if smoothing the sheets was her 
means of release for not being able to sit still. He wondered 
why this moment would feel awkward to her.

He blinked his eyes tightly a few times until he could see 
better. Now that he thought of it, she did look different. 
Something in her eyes. She slid her hand across the sheets and 
laid it on his. He looked at it and smiled. Or tried to smile, 
at least. It felt like more of a grimace to him, but she smiled 
back, nonetheless.

He looked at her hand, lying almost still on top of his. That 
was when he caught sight of her abdomen. Just a slight curve, 
well disguised by a brown suit. For a few seconds, he told 
himself it couldn't be - he wasn't really seeing this. It was 
some trick of the light or a figment of his imagination. But it 
could be - he'd told her that she should move on with her life. 
She might have gotten some treatments, or maybe a miracle had 
come along. Those seemed to be there for her more than he was.

But... how long had he been gone? Long enough for Scully to get 
married and, somehow, get pregnant? He didn't know. There was no 
ring on her left hand. Nothing to show for being married. He 
raised a mental eyebrow. Had the scientific Dr. Scully gone back 
to reckless dating? 

He told himself not to think of it anymore. Answers would come 
in their own time. He didn't need to think about it at a time 
when pain was so intense that seconds felt like infinity. 

He turned his hand palm up and grabbed hers.

* * *

They didn't discuss what had happened to him. He didn't feel 
ready to talk about it. She didn't ask. She knew what he was 
going through, or at least thought she did. She didn't push him.

And he didn't ask about her. He was afraid of the answers. And 
she, in a way, seemed afraid of the questions. The time they'd 
spent together, first in his hospital room, then in his 
apartment, was spent mostly in silence. They both knew where any 
attempt at conversation would lead. They simply took comfort in 
each other's company - in knowing the other was there, and safe. 
Nothing else mattered.

Everything changed the day he came back to work. She'd noticed 
something different about him since he came back. But when he 
came into the office that day, she could see it in his eyes. 

He looked around like a stranger. He was lost in the jungle of 
his own making. For a long time he stared at the poster on the 
wall. Little by little, she watched what little life there was 
behind his eyes die out.

They didn't talk much that day.

It was almost a week before he reached into the filing cabinet 
of X-Files. He pulled out a few and started reading. When she 
came back from lunch, he wasn't there. The waste basket was full 
of files.

She bent down and pulled them out. They were all UFO cases. She 
filed them neatly in their place.

She couldn't find him for the rest of the day. He didn't come 
back to the office. His cell phone was turned off, and when she 
tried to call his apartment there was no answer. She drove over 
after work. He wasn't home. She flipped through the keys on her 
keychain, until she found the one neatly labeled 'Mulder'. 

The lock had been changed.

Maybe he'd just forgotten to give her a new key. Or maybe he 
just hadn't had the chance yet. They hadn't made much smalltalk 
lately and he may have simply forgotten to mention it. He 
might've changed the lock just recently and hadn't made her a 
key yet... but she knew it wasn't any of those.

As selfish as she knew it was, Scully felt betrayed. The mere 
change of a lock meant he was shutting her out. Sure, she didn't 
want to push him to talk about anything - he'd open up to her 
when he was ready. But this was more than that. Much more. His 
apartment was always somewhere she could come. She'd been there 
countless times when he was gone. It was her connection to him. 
It was a place to wait for him, to worry about him, to feel 
safe. Now it was denied to her.

The next day, he came to work as if nothing had happened.

"You changed your lock," she said. He was sitting behind his 
desk and filling out a form. She was reading a medical journal.

He didn't respond.

She went for a doctor's appointment during lunchtime that day. 
Blood test, urine sample, no immediate results. Nothing special. 
But she was worried about leaving him alone. She still wanted 
answers. Not just for yesterday. For everything.

When she came back, the always-shut office door was hanging in a 
few inches, inviting a look. It wasn't like Mulder to leave the 
door open, but then he'd been acting strangely lately. Something 
crashed to the ground, and she rushed over to the open door. She 
expected to see burglars, vandals, the smoking man's errand 
boys... anyone but Mulder.

He was ripping the tacks and pushpins out of the walls of the 
basement office. Newspaper clippings, pictures, and printouts 
sank to the floor one after another. Some he crumpled up and 
hurled away from him. 

On the floor, what was once his framed diploma from Oxford lay 
as ground zero for a floorful of broken glass. Shards of glass 
were scattered amidst the fallen thumbtacks, pens, and pieces of 
paper. She stood behind the door, frozen, and watched. She 
didn't know what to do. Even making her presence known might 
make everything worse. So she just stood and watched.

One of the pushpins separated from its plastic grip and Mulder 
growled an almost beastly growl as he pulled his hand back. His 
elbow, jerking back, pushed a jar of sunflower seeds off the 
shelf. The pieces and seeds slid across the floor, all the way 
to her foot, which was keeping the door open to a few inches.

Blood fountained out of his finger. He clasped his index finger 
for a moment, then reached his left hand for the poster. It 
separated from the wall with a loud tearing sound, taking paint 
and pieces of tape along with it. Moments later, it hit the 
ground in four pieces. The edges were stained with blood.

That was when he finally looked up and saw her. The killer rage 
in his eyes slowly transformed into a mournful, helpless gaze 
that sank slowly to the floor. She pushed the door open and took 
a hesitant step in. He seemed to want to retreat, but didn't.

When she reached and put a hand on his arm, he looked away. She 
grabbed his hand, to get a better look at it. His finger wasn't 
cut too badly. She reached into the drawer and got a band aid 
that she kept for the occasional paper cut.

"Mulder..." She didn't know what she could say. The old Mulder - 
she'd know what to say to him. But now, she hadn't the slightest 
idea. She just wanted to make everything go away. She wanted to 
go back those few exhausting months. Back before everything went 
wrong. Before the abduction.

Mulder shook his head. "I've seen it, Scully," he said faintly. 
"I've seen the truth." She gave his hand an affectionate 
squeeze, but he didn't return it. He jerked his hand free from 
her grip. He didn't turn away or look away, but it was as though 
he looked right through her.

He took a long look around the office. It had become the 
battlefield for the war raging inside him. She understood it all 
too well. He shook his head and left. She let him go. She had no 
other choice.

* * *

She didn't know him. She didn't understand him. What right did 
she have to think that she did? Maybe she was close to figuring 
him out once. She could even predict him occasionally. But she 
never knew him.

And that was then. Now...

Now it was as if her eyes just looked through him, searching for 
something that wasn't really there. Not anymore, at least.

How could he explain to her what he felt? How could he do it 
when he wasn't even sure? All he knew was that he couldn't stand 
being around those things. Every time he walked into that office 
he was about ready to have a panic attack. He couldn't take it.

He just wanted to put it all away with everything else he'd 
spent his life repressing. Forget about the X-Files. Move to the 
more mundane. He'd spent the best years of his life in a mad 
goose-chase after flying saucers and little green men. Now his 
life seemed wasted.

Maybe it wasn't too late to change that.

But Scully... Scully had finally gotten to a point where she was 
as passionate about the X-Files as he used to be. It had become 
her quest. It probably only came to replace the career that 
she'd thrown away. A career she'd thrown away because of him. 

He needed her, more than he'd ever needed anyone. Over the years 
he'd depended on her. He'd drawn on her strength time and again. 
But like he'd told her, the time to quit had come. It was time 
for her to build a normal life.

And it was time for him to do the same.

But he could see it in her eyes. She was... almost afraid of 
him. Disappointed, in a sense. He wasn't the Mulder she'd come 
to know. He was irrational and unexpected.

It would wear off soon enough and he'd be able to go on with his 
life like anyone else. A life free of hybrids and abductions and 
X-Files. Even Kersh's sky high piles of manure seemed like a 
welcome change from that office and everything it represented. 
But...

How could he explain it to Scully? Could she possibly understand 
that he'd had a change of heart about everything in his life? 
Everything he'd ever loved or trusted or felt passionate about 
he now avoided like the plague... except for her. Would she 
understand that even though his life was shattering, he still 
felt the same about her? Still respected her, still trusted 
her... still loved her.

He spent days thinking about what his life would have been like 
if he had kept his work and his hunt for UFOs separate. He could 
have had a brilliant career. He could have had a life. Maybe he 
could even have had Scully.

But the way it really happened, his lovely Mrs. Spooky would 
probably be leaving him soon enough. He'd told her to. But he 
didn't realize then how much he would need her - the sturdy 
voice of reason - in his life.

Sometimes he thought that maybe it was for the best if she left. 
It would make it easier to forget. It was nothing more than a 
fleeting thought that he'd push away as fast as he could.

But the two of them grew more distant every day. They hardly 
spoke. When they did, they tried their best to conceal the real 
emotions beneath the surface. She was as big of a mystery to him 
as ever. Never complaining, never resting more than she had to. 

Even though he could tell that she was as concerned as ever 
about him, she didn't see what was happening to him. Maybe she 
just didn't want to see it. Maybe she didn't believe it. She'd 
never been a believer in Post-Abduction Syndrome...

He couldn't sleep. That bothered him most. When being awake for 
so long was voluntary, it was helpful; productive, even. But 
involuntary, it was nothing short of hell. 

Every time he'd manage to fall asleep, he would wake up 
screaming, and find his pillow soaked from nosebleeds. At first, 
he'd tried to go back to sleep, but the shapes his mind saw in 
the shadows around him kept him awake and jumpy for hours. After 
a few days, he'd given up.

He could've dealt with it if that was all there was to it. But 
it wasn't.

He would sit at his desk, like always. He would read reports, 
like always. And he'd look up, even slightly, and see it. A 
shadow, a shape... a face. A large face, the kind with large 
eyes and a small body... It was as if the past he wanted so much 
to forget had decided to haunt him everywhere he went.

So he decided to make the next change in his life in hopes that 
it would all simply go away.

* * *

Scully got out of the elevator at the basement floor. The usual 
clutter decorated the hall to her left, and to her right, 
someone was removing Mulder's name plate from the door with 
special care.

"Excuse me," she said to the short, dark haired maintenance man. 
(She wouldn't admit it to herself, but he really reminded her of 
Eddie Van Blundht...) "What do you think you're doing?"

He shrugged. "Just doing what I'm told."

"By whom?"

"A.D. Skinner."

Five minutes later she was in Skinner's office. She was nervous 
and worried. What had Mulder done to warrant such extreme 
sanctions? She could explain it to them - he hadn't been the 
same lately... And why hadn't he told her anything?

Skinner took his time responding to her question. She's seen 
that expression on his face before. He was looking for the 
easiest way possible to tell her something she wouldn't like to 
hear. She wondered whether she should've just asked Mulder 
instead.

"Agent Mulder came to see me yesterday," Skinner said. "He asked 
to be transferred off the X-Files." 

Scully didn't say a thing. She didn't know how much of the shock 
she was feeling was conveyed in her expression. After a brief 
pause, Skinner kept talking. "He asked to go back to working in 
the Violent Crimes Department. They need the manpower and his 
expertise. Maybe he just needs some time off from the X-Files."

"I'm sure that's all it is, Sir," she said. But she wasn't so 
sure. And she could see that Skinner wasn't so sure either.

Mulder was out of town for almost a week, working on a case. 
After trying his cell phone a dozen times, she assumed he just 
didn't want to talk to her. So she stopped trying.

Working on the X-Files on her own was exhausting. Until Mulder's 
disappearance, she'd never known how much of the work he did on 
his own. Now she was tired and upset, in no state of mind to do 
that kind of work. All it did was remind her of how obsessed 
Mulder had been and how he'd given up so easily.

When she'd been looking for him, she hadn't even noticed the 
burden. She'd just kept going - she'd become as obsessed 
herself. Even now when he was back, a part of her remained 
fascinated. But that wasn't enough motivation. Not if she had to 
do it alone.

Skinner took his time assigning her a new partner. Maybe no one 
had ticked him off enough lately to be landed a detail like the 
X-Files. Or maybe he hoped, as Kersh once had, that she wasn't a 
lost cause. That she'd decide to move on. But she couldn't give 
up. Not until she talked to Mulder and got some answers.

She prayed a lot on that week. Despite people's kindness, she 
felt awkward in church. It was there that she became painfully 
aware of her state. She was single and pregnant. And alone... 
Still she was there every day after work, praying until her 
knees and back ached. She wasn't quite sure what she was praying 
for. She could only hope God understood.

He came back after six days.

Her heart was in her throat as she made her way through the 
desks. The life of the room around her seemed the most improper 
for a group of violent crime investigators. Pictures of stab 
wounds, gunshots, and a dozen other injuries littered the desks. 
Suspect lists, evidence bags, enough to make the atmosphere 
dreary. Yet, the people were cheerful as ever. All but her.

She got a few looks from people leaving for lunch. She assumed 
they knew her. She knew some of them - classmates from the 
Academy, students, friends. But she was so wound up that every 
look seemed hostile to her at that moment.

She leaned against a desk and watched him, deep in his work, in 
the back of the room. As dedicated to his job as ever. She bit 
her lower lip. She hadn't realized how much she missed him.

The last person leaving stopped at the door and called out, 
"Aren't you coming, Mulder?"

"No," he said, looking up, "I'll--" and then he saw her. She 
tried to meet his eyes. He looked over to the door and said, 
"I'll get something later."

Then his eyes sank back to the papers on the desk. "Mulder..." 
He wouldn't look up to meet her gaze. They were both silent for 
a long moment and she unconsciously raised her hand to her 
abdomen. "Why?"

He shook his head. "I had to, Scully." He looked up for an 
instant. "You wouldn't understand."

She did. She really understood. But she didn't agree. Shutting 
everything out wouldn't do him any good... But then again, she 
really shouldn't be the one to say. Maybe if she'd tried a 
little harder, it wouldn't have come to that...

"It was your whole life. Your quest." For the first time she 
tried to bring out in her voice the admiration she'd felt all 
these years, watching him keep going, no matter what. He was 
single-minded and relentless, and she never thought she'd see 
him give up.

Funny how things worked out.

He looked up in a sharp, almost hostile movement. Behind his 
eyes was more sorrow than she'd seen in years. "Maybe it 
shouldn't have been."

"Mulder, I just don't believe you're giving up so easily," she 
said, frusturated.

He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. After a moment, he said, 
"I think you should go."

"Mulder..." she started, but he'd already gone back to his work. 
She was angry and confused, and there was nothing she could do. 
She spent a few more seconds watching him work, then shuffled 
her feet to the elevator. From there, a short, slow drop 
downward to the basement. She sat there for a long while, alone 
and hurt. Staring at the white and punctured walls and empty 
desk, she tried to hold back the tears.

* * *

He was in the forest. In Oregon. It was cold and dark. Every 
time he dreamed of this place it got darker and darker. And he 
reached his hand into the invisible wall. It started shaking. 

A shiver ran down his spine. He reached in further. And further. 
Finally, he was through the wall, and it wasn't so dark anymore. 
It was calm and silent. 

The circle of light was straight ahead of him, and they were all 
there. Billy Miles, Theresa Nemman, Ray Hoese. They were all 
smiling at him. Inviting him.

He advanced slowly, still unsure. This would be it - his proof. 
His way of knowing, of being sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt. 
But what good was the proof to him if no one else saw it? What 
good would it be if Scully didn't see it?

Hesitantly, he stepped into the light. No turning back now. They 
knew it, too. They smiled to him and tried to make him welcome - 
a touch of the arm, a nod of the head. They tried to make it 
easier.

He knew he probably wasn't coming back. And he knew he wasn't 
going to see Samantha again. So he just looked up into the light 
and tried to let the beauty and the tranquility take over him. 
It really was beautiful. It was so incredible...

Until it stepped in.

The bounty hunter. All that beauty, that serenity, was just an 
illusion. It was just as painful a realization now as it had 
been the first time he experienced it, on that night in the 
forest. And soon he'd be waking up, still afraid of that unknown 
behind the illusion...

A scream pierced the air as he began to ascend. It was never 
there before. It wasn't his. It was distant, almost unreal. It 
was a cry of fear and pain, and he felt it in his bones.

His eyes flew open with a gasp. He mouthed Scully's name, and 
with what had become instinct in the last month, he brought his 
hand up to his nose. It came away clean. But he still felt 
uneasy. He could still hear that scream. And he worried, because 
he had a feeling, one stronger than instinct, that it was hers.

The phone rang. 

He jumped up and fumbled around in the dark. He grabbed the 
reciever, almost in panic. He did his best to shake off the 
dream, but it wouldn't give him rest. With his breath still 
labored, he pressed the reciever to his ear. Through it came 
Scully's choked and muffled voice. "Mulder?"

* * *

There were three rushed knocks on the door. Then a pause and 
three more, louder and more urgent. She felt a bit of relief. He 
came... She wanted to get up but couldn't move. Hell, just 
getting the phone had been overwhelmingly painful. She'd never 
been so afraid in her entire life.

The lock turned, and the door flew open. "Scully?" She choked on 
her reply. "Scully?!"

The bedroom door opened. She looked up through teary eyes. 
Seeing the blood everywhere - on her clothes, on the sheets, on 
the floor - made her pain worse somehow. But Mulder seemed to 
ignore it, and looked at her with such compassion in his eyes... 
She just huddled up in the corner of the bed, her back pressed 
to the headboard, and hugged her knees to her limp stomach.

Mulder's eyes traced the thin trail of blood on the floor and 
stopped at his shoes. She buried her face in her knees and tried 
very hard to pull herself together. 

She lifted her head at the touch of his arm. He'd sat down next 
to her on the bed, still disregarding the blood everywhere. He 
cupped her chin in his hand and wiped at her tears with his 
thumb. 

He covered her hand with his other hand. Slowly, she let go of 
her knees. She turned her hand palm up and took his. He released 
her face and moved his hand to touch her abdomen. She gasped in 
pain and pulled her knees into her stomach. 

She knew the look on his face without having to see it. It was 
the silent questioning he'd given her so many times. She wanted 
to answer. She wanted to tell him, but... she couldn't. He 
didn't want to hear it. She shouldn't have called him, but she 
didn't know what else to do.

But when she looked up into his eyes, she saw the Mulder she 
knew peering back at her. Maybe calling him wasn't such a 
mistake after all... 

"They-- they were here."

She hadn't felt so hurt in her life. She was small and 
frightened, robbed of the two things she'd come to care about - 
her partner and her baby. He wrapped his arms around her, and 
she tried to take some comfort in the fact that one of the two 
might be coming back.

At least she had that.