Title: S.N.A.F.U. Part 7 Chapters 21-22
Author: Emily Sim
Headers: see part 1

**************

Chapter 21

It was late when Scully arrived back at the Hoover. Traffic had 
been light, which was a plus. She was so tired and having to 
fight her way here would have taken too much concentration. She 
found Skinner in his office, the door open, bent over his desk 
still working on something. It wasn't too farfetched to believe 
he'd waited for her, knowing she would show up with the results 
from the Kilar autopsy. This wasn't something she could call him 
with, and if her suspicions regarding the woman were correct, she 
wouldn't' be sharing her findings in this office either. The best 
she could do was to present him with something that would throw 
off the men who were always listening. 

She entered quietly and waited for him to finish and acknowledge 
her presence. 

"Agent Scully?"

"I've the autopsy report, Sir."

"I wasn't aware that I'd asked for a verbal report, Agent."

She winced at the harshness in his voice. She knew it was because 
of the recording devices that were hidden in his office, but 
there was something else lurking behind it. If she was to guess 
she might pick pity, and it seemed to be directed her way. She 
bristled and her answer came out more abrasive than she intended. 

"I assumed the request to have me do the autopsy this afternoon 
meant the information was needed right away."

He pulled his glasses off and set them down. "Sorry, it's been a 
long day. I'll take a look at what you have."

"There isn't much." She passed him the folder. "Time of death 
seems to be somewhere around ten, give or take a couple of hours. 
The tox screen was clean, negative for alcohol, drugs, legal or 
illegal. She was a healthy woman. There doesn't seem to be 
anything untoward, except the manner of death."

Skinner played with a pencil and nonchalantly pointed it to a 
corner of the room and then scratched his ear with it. "Is that 
all?"

"That's it."

"Fine. If you'll give me a moment, I'm on my way out. I'll see 
you to your car."

"That won't be-"

He cut her off. "I had one of the clerks complaining about some 
guy hanging around the garage the other day. It'll only take me a 
moment."

She waited while he gathered up the paper he had been looking at 
and the autopsy files. He was silent all the way down the 
elevator and to the parking garage. When they stepped through the 
door he pulled over underneath one of the large ventilation fans. 

"Be quick," was all he said.

"I don't know what you've got this time, sir. The puncture wound 
in the back is like all the others would be, if they didn't 
dissolve into green goo before we could look. This one had red 
blood, and I couldn't find anything unusual about it at all; cell 
shape was normal, not too many white cells or too few red, 
nothing. It was almost too perfect."

"Which means, what?"

"Maybe nothing. It would help if you would tell me what you 
suspect." 

"Mulder thinks she might be a new generation of hybrid clones. 
One with similar physiology to our own."

"A new clone?" She cleared her throat. "Sir, this woman, whomever 
or whatever she is, has never given birth." 

Skinner showed no reaction to her revelation. She had been hoping 
for something that might let her know what was going on with 
Mulder. She knew her partner had gone to the house, it was in the 
police report, and she suspected Skinner had joined him. She 
guessed that Mulder's reluctance to face her was more involved 
than an indiscretion with a suspect. 

"Sir?"

"We've been long enough Agent Scully, we need to go." 

"Sir, what is it that no one is telling me about this case?"

Skinner gave her a blank stare and she realized she wasn't going 
to get anything out of him. 

They silently made their way to her car.

"Thanks, Sir."

"Can't be too careful these days, even with the security cameras. 
Good night Agent Scully."

************

Skinner wasn't surprised to find Mulder sitting in a car outside 
his apartment building when he got home. He noted Mulder's 
disheveled appearance and wondered if the man had gotten any 
sleep at all in the last twenty-four hours. 

"You keep long hours, sir."

"Speak for yourself, Mulder. What have you got?"

Mulder exited his car and followed Skinner to his door. He held a 
single thin file folder, tapping it against his leg. "Nothing. 
The house was a cash sale, one occupant listed with the city. 
That's it. I had the guys looking for any mention of Hannah and 
there is nothing. It's like she doesn't exist. There isn't much 
more on Kristen either. Just the regular stuff you'd find for a 
normal citizen. This Kristen, whatever she is, just stepped into 
the real Kristen's life."
 
Skinner pulled a key out from the ring. "I wish I could tell you 
that I had more, but I don't."

"I don't know where to look next." 

"Why don't you come up?"

Mulder nodded. "Sure."

Skinner disarmed the security system and flipped on the lights. 
His place was rather spartan, but neat. Decorated in browns and 
blues, there was no trace of a feminine touch here. Any reminder 
of his ex-wife was still too painful. There were no pictures 
except what the decorator had suggested to complement the color 
scheme, large non-descript paintings with lots of muted colors. 

"Drink?"

Mulder shook his head. "I haven't eaten much today."

Skinner gestured towards the kitchen. "Knock yourself out."

"Hannah isn't mine."

Skinner raised his eyebrows, inviting Mulder to continue. 

"Scully had a visit from Krycek. He left her with some 
information, which she was able to match to Samantha's. It seems 
that Hannah is her child, somehow. I guess I got lucky."

Skinner was unable to keep the distaste from showing on his face, 
or coming through in his tone of voice. "Krycek? Doesn't that 
make things interesting." He unconsciously rubbed his arm, 
phantom pain running up it, the events surrounding his hospital 
stay still fresh in his mind. 

"Yeah, I'm sure he was responsible for the 'his and hers' 
matching envelopes with pictures. Were you able to get anything 
from your contacts?"

"I put some feelers out, dropped some information, but have had 
nothing. Not yet, anyway. It's still early. These men, they don't 
bite unless they need something; information is never free. It 
really comes down to what they need or want this time that's 
worth it for them."

"Don't sell yourself on this one, sir. I still have the Gunmen 
turning over stones, and Krycek seemed to be helping for some 
twisted reason. Do you know who made the call to the station?"

"No. I heard from someone wanting to confirm your status with the 
Bureau before they notified you. I pulled some strings, got the 
body shipped to Quantico for Scully to autopsy today." Skinner 
watched Mulder's face pale. "She's never been anything but 
professional, you know that Mulder. And who else could we trust 
to do it?"

"I know, it's just that --" He paused, groping for words. "Things 
are a little strained right now. I haven't had a chance to 
discuss any of this with her. She doesn't know about Hannah and 
God only knows what she thinks about Kristen and me."

"Scully wouldn't abandon you over this, Mulder. Hell, she's put 
up with your shit for over five years. This isn't going to scare 
her away. She's your partner; you need to talk to her. And she 
probably knows more than you're giving her credit for."

"Did she give you the results?"

"She didn't' find much. Except for the puncture wound, everything 
checked out as normal. Too normal was how she put it, I think. 
She did confirm that the woman had never given birth. So that 
matches up with what you found."  

He wasn't sure why Scully put up with his bullshit for as long as 
she had, but imagined that the feelings his pair of agents shared 
were stronger than either was willing to acknowledge. Love did 
indeed cover a multitude of sins. He just didn't think they 
thought of what they had as love in a romantic sense. 

"Go home, eat, and get some sleep. Hopefully someone will get in 
touch with me soon. You're no good to anybody like this." Mulder 
bristled at the directive. "I can make it an order if I need to."

"That's not necessary."

"Good." Mulder made his way to the door. "And Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"Talk to her. Soon."

"I will, I will. Just as soon as I figure out what to say."

"I'll call the minute I hear anything."

"Thanks, Skinner."

"You're welcome."

Skinner closed the door behind him and made his way into the 
kitchen. He pulled a frozen dinner from the freezer. He was tired 
and it was late, too late to cook. He popped it in the microwave 
and set the timer. He hoped he had stirred things up enough that 
someone would be inclined to talk to him rather than beat the 
shit out of him. He rubbed his arm again. Krycek. It didn't 
surprise him, but he'd rather not have to deal with that bastard 
right now. He had his own score to settle with the man. The timer 
dinged and Skinner pulled his dinner out, grabbing a beer to go 
with it. The television flicked on and he settled back. He needed 
to take his own advice. Sleep would help him think straight, and 
he figured he might need it tomorrow.

*********

Chapter 22

Mulder sat in his car outside Scully's apartment. A quick stop at 
the Gunmen's had yielded no new information, but all three of the 
guys had wasted no time chewing him out about his behavior with 
Scully. He guessed that sometime between the visit with Scully 
and the last one they had done a bit of digging. They had heard 
enough to guess at what the two of them were doing, and had 
probably got confirmation but in deference to Scully - he didn't 
kid himself that they would care about his feelings - they were 
ignoring it. Mostly ignoring it. Frohike couldn't help reminding 
him that Scully had 'some sort of medical appointment' earlier in 
the day, and making him feel like a schmuck for forgetting about 
it. Sometimes he hated Frohike's devotion to Scully.

He could see a light still on somewhere in her home despite the 
lateness of the hour. He sighed and opened his car door. The talk 
he knew they needed to have was long overdue. He had also 
forgotten that her last IVF procedure was scheduled for tomorrow. 
He doubted she would have bothered to remind him.
  
She had asked him to be at this one with her, and Scully didn't 
ask for very much. He hit the remote, locking the car and made 
his way to her building.
 
*******

"Scully." She'd answered on the fifth ring, her voice sleepy.

"Hey, Scully."

"Mulder? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I - I'm - "

"What is it? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"Nothing - no - I'm fine. Actually, I'm outside your door."

The door was pulled open and there he was, phone still pressed to 
his ear. She squinted against the glare of the florescent light 
in the hallway. She flicked her phone off and stood aside so he 
could enter. 

"I'm sorry; I guess I woke you. I'll just go, and we can-"

"You're here now, and I'm awake."

"Sure." He thumbed his own phone off, tucking it back into his 
jacket pocket. 

"What do you want, Mulder?" She stood with her arms crossed, 
suddenly aware that she was in her pajamas. She watched him sit 
down on her couch, head bowed, his fingers twisting nervously. 
Truthfully, she didn't feel too badly that he was uncomfortable. 
He had put her through hell the last two days, bringing into 
question not only their partnership, but also the personal 
relationship they seemed to be dancing around. 

He looked up then, and she noted the dark smudges under his eyes. 
She wasn't the only one who wasn't sleeping. "Do you want tea? Or 
coffee?"

"Nah. Maybe a glass of water."

Glad to have something to do, she moved into the kitchen. She ran 
the water, longer than she really needed to, but it helped fill 
some of the time, some of the silence. When she turned away from 
the sink she bumped smack into his chest. She hadn't heard him 
follow her in, hadn't even sensed him behind her. They did an 
awkward dance trying to get around each other until he finally 
grabbed both her arms, stilling her.

"I'm so sorry." The words were so quietly spoken she thought 
she'd only imagined them. "I'm really, really sorry." He took the 
glass from her hand and set it aside. 

She chanced a look at his eyes; saw the pain, the sorrow, the 
deep sadness reflected there. And then his words, those horrible 
words uttered just the other day came back, and she wasn't quite 
ready to relent and forgive him. She felt tears threaten and 
hated how erratic her emotions were lately. 

"Sorry for what? For agreeing to our 'clinical exchange of body 
fluids?'" It would have had more effect, she would think later, 
if she could have kept her chin from quivering.

"Oh, Scully. Not that. Never that."

He pulled her in close and she felt his heart thudding under her 
ear and her anger began to crumble. She was biting her lip in an 
attempt to keep the tears at bay, but when she felt his lips on 
her forehead, and his hands tracing circles on her back, when she 
could finally understand what it was he was whispering she 
couldn't stop them. 

She cried. 

******



Chapter 22b 

It seemed like hours, but in reality it was only minutes, when 
her sobs finally settled into quietly drawn out sighs, punctuated 
by hiccups. He passed her the water she had poured for him. Her 
face was red and splotchy, and he hated that he was the cause of 
her pain. She gave him a small, self-conscious smile as she took 
the glass. 

"I'm fine --"

"Scully --"

"Really, I am. It's hormones."

"I'm sorry. More sorry than you can imagine." 

"It's okay. It's been a long day. I'm sorry for your loss. I 
didn't get a chance to tell you that."

It took him a moment to realize she was referring to Kristen. 
"It's not my loss, Scully. I'm sorry for Kristen too, but if 
you've done the autopsy you know it really wasn't her. The real 
Kristen died a long time ago."

"Yes, well, I brought my autopsy notes straight to Skinner but 
I've a copy here if you needed to see it. I didn't find 
anything."

"He told me, but that isn't why I came over."

"Why are you here at --" she glanced at the clock "-- 11:30?"

"Three wise men."

"Frohike threatening you again?" 

Her soft smile was welcome after the tearful start. "I think he'd 
propose if he thought you'd say yes."

"In his dreams."

"I don't think you want to know his dreams." 

"You're probably right."

"So --" he groped, not sure how to begin the conversation they 
needed to have. "I guess we need to talk."

"Who was she? I mean, I know who she was, I guess I should be 
asking who she was to you?"

Mulder was a little surprised *at her boldness?* she was so 
forthright. He leaned forward and went to take her hand. He 
pulled back when she flinched. 

"I can't --" she moved away and into the living room, sitting in 
the chair opposite the couch. "I can't think when you're that 
close. Not right now."

He opened his mouth, witty comeback at the ready, but quickly 
closed it at the pained expression on her face. He could see how 
difficult this was for her, to ask the questions, to wait for the 
answers. It struck him how completely odd -- hell, screwed up -- 
the situation was. Here the two of them were, trying to make a 
baby and they had the emotional intimacy of two strangers. 

"It's okay, if you don't want to tell me. I mean, I read the 
report."

"And you saw the pictures." He felt he might as well say it out 
loud instead of letting it sit unspoken. 

"Yeah."

"It wasn't what it looked like."

"Mulder, you don't owe me an explanation."

"Yes, yes I do."

"Did the guys tell you about the PCR's?"

"Yeah, they did. It was -- I was surprised, at first. Her name is 
Hannah."

"Hannah?"

"She's three and a half, almost four, and she looks like Sam; 
long curly brown hair, like Sam's was, and hazel eyes. I thought 
she was mine, at first."

Her back stiffened and her knuckles turned white where her hand 
gripped her knees. 

"She's missing."

He watched a myriad of emotions cross her face, reflected in her 
eyes. Each one fleeting as she shut them down until he was left 
with only Agent Scully. 

"Missing?" 

His sigh was deep. "It's all so screwed up. I got called to the 
crime scene late last night, courtesy of an anonymous caller."

"Krycek?"

"Quite possibly based on his recent contact with you. There was 
no sign a child had ever been there. I didn't say too much. We 
don't know how she came to be, whether she was conceived 
naturally --"

Scully's laugh was loud and hollow. "Naturally? Come on, Mulder -
-"

"Let me finish. Please." At her nod he continued. "Or using Sam's 
DNA and however it is they do it." He didn't want to talk about 
Emily, not right now. "I was going to try and get some tests run 
but I never got close enough." 

"Why aren't you out looking?"

"I've got the boys, Skinner keeping tabs on things, putting 
feelers out, but unless someone wants her found, I don't think 
we'll find much."

"I'm so sorry."

"It'll be okay." He was trying hard to convince himself of just 
that. 

"She was your type."

"My type?" He was puzzled.

"Kristen."

"Oh. I didn't know I had a type."

"Tall, dark and leggy. And pretty. She was pretty."

"I didn't notice."

Her raised eyebrows said everything. "Yeah, right."

He realized he wasn't ready for this conversation, despite his 
intentions earlier. Hell, they'd been avoiding anything that 
brought them too close to anything personal for years. Why change 
things now? 

"How was your appointment today?" 

"Oh, it was fine."

Why had he expected her to say anything else? "You thought I'd 
forgotten."

"Hadn't you?"

Her eyes seemed to see right through him. "Yeah, I did. I'm 
sorry."

"Seems to be the word of the night. Sorry."

"Look, Scully, can we start this again? I feel like I'm under a 
microscope being probed." He regretted the words the moment they 
left his mouth. If it were possible, she had pulled even further 
into herself. Why was it he never seemed to do anything except 
hurt her when all he wanted to do was wrap her up so he could 
love and protect her? 

"I'm tired. Are we done here?"

No, no we're not done, Scully. Not done at all. "I'll let you get 
back to bed."

He watched her pull herself up from the chair. She held herself 
proudly and he mentally kicked himself for the direction the 
conversation had taken. He stood and followed her to the front 
door, waiting while she unlocked it and pulled it open.

"Scully --"

"Mulder, not now."

"When, then?"

"Tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Night."

"Good-night, Mulder." 


**********

The door closed with a soft snick, but she really wanted to slam 
it shut. Must love that Scully altruism and control. Concern for 
her neighbors and all that. She slid down, her satin robe 
catching on the rough parts of the wood, the hardwood floor cold 
and hard through her nightclothes. How dare he come over here 
with his sorry's and his insecurities and his fucking hybrid - 
clone and why does there have to be a little girl missing, again. 
Life wasn't just unfair, it was cruel.

She muffled her cries. This was more in character for her, the 
pain squeezing out in defiance of her firm control. She felt 
embarrassed about her emotional display in front of Mulder, 
thankful she could pass it off to hormonal imbalance. She willed 
the tears to stop, silently berating herself. 

Taking a deep breath she pushed herself up. She was exhausted, 
but sleep would not be coming easily tonight. She decided curling 
up on the couch with late night television for company was 
marginally better than tossing and turning in bed. She settled 
back against the couch pulling an afghan around her. She flipped 
channels, finally stopping when she recognized Jimmy Stewart. 
Harvey. It was perfect. 

She was startled out of her quiet solitude when someone banged 
loudly on her door. 

Was there a sign directing everyone to her place tonight? She 
threw the afghan aside but didn't make it off the couch before 
the door was opened, with a key. God, what part of go home did 
Mulder not get?

*********

"See the thing is, Scully, I didn't get to say what I came to 
say. And I promised myself I would And we both know that tomorrow 
you'll have some other excuse for why it's not good timing then." 
Mulder kicked the door shut behind him and turned to throw the 
dead bolt.

"Mulder --"

"No, not this time. We are going to talk."

She took a good look at him, then. There was little she could do 
to dissuade him when he got that look in his eye. 
She was tired, too wrung out emotionally to argue. If she was 
careful she could manage to talk without saying very much and get 
him out the door quickly. Again.

He hit the power button, silencing Elwood P. Dowd's conversation 
with his invisible rabbit friend. "Can we sit?"

"You seem to be calling the shots here, Mulder. So, we sit." She 
turned to make her way to the chair and was startled when he 
grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Not over there, Scully. On the couch, together. Like adults. A 
real conversation."

Oh shit. This was all going to hell. He pulled her down beside 
him. 

"I need some space. Please." She pushed herself back against he 
armrest and tried not to let his disappointment change her mind. 

"So?" She pulled the sash on her robe tighter.

"I want to tell you about Kristen."

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do."

She braced herself mentally.

"You were gone. I went from case to case and in between I was 
looking for you. It was pretty dismal. Your mom would have me 
over whenever she could. We'd touch base regarding the search and 
what I'd found, or mostly, what I'd not found, and we'd talk 
about you. It kept me grounded, for a time. Sometimes it got so 
bad --"

They both reached at the same time. Hands clasped, she noticed 
for the first time his trembling. She wasn't the only one who was 
having difficulty with this. She gave his fingers a squeeze, 
letting him know she was there for him, prompting him to 
continue. 

"Your mom's great, you know? It was like she sensed when it was 
the worst. Those times she'd just show up at the door, casserole 
dish in hand. Your mom's a great cook."

"I know. Too bad it isn't hereditary." 

"Oh, I don't know. Your cooking can't be that bad."

"I'm glad she was there to look out for you."

"You know, the hardest thing for me, after getting back from LA 
was facing your mom after...." He took a deep breath. "I was sure 
she knew, and I felt like I'd let you both down."

"Oh, Mulder." She covered their clasped hands with her other one. 

"Just let me get this out, okay?"

She nodded, noticing the wet, brightness of his eyes. She was 
going to cry too if she wasn't careful.

"I fucked her." 

The words were like cold water. She moved to pull away but he 
held tight.

"Almost done." His smile was forced. "If I look at it from the 
angle of a psychologist, I know it was an attempt to feel alive. 
I was dead. You'd been gone for so long, I didn't think you were 
ever coming back. Kristen was convenient, and I was empty. I used 
her to try and fill me up, to feel something. It lasted about as 
long as the sex did, which wasn't all that long, in case you 
wanted to know."

"Mulder --" this was too much and at the same time, not enough. 
She felt all her steely resolve to let him dump his pain on her 
and get him out the door leave her. She was floundering. Some 
perverse part of her wanted details, wanted to be able to picture 
it perfectly, down to the last detail, so she could file it away, 
like an ordinary report. If she could compartmentalize it, treat 
it like any other **forensic investigation**autopsy she had a 
hope of coming to terms with it. Right now, it was too raw, her 
emotions too chaotic. She wondered if her face reflected the pain 
she was feeling inside. 

"It didn't mean anything, to either of us." 

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" She bristled. His use 
of the word us igniting something possessive in her.

"Maybe I didn't say that right. I don't do one-night stands, 
Scully. Sleeping with her like that, it wasn't typical for me. 
And I haven't been with anyone since that night."

"Detective White?"

"No. 

"No one?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I hid the file, I just shoved the whole thing out of sight. When 
you came back, life started for me again." 

He had tears in his eyes. Her own were held back by force of will 
alone. She realized she was holding his hand tightly, that she 
must be hurting him. She loosened her grip. If she was careful, 
she could still get him out before she wasn't able to hold 
everything in and she regurgitated it all over them. 

"Scully, why are we trying to have a baby?"

Oh fuck. There went any resolve she had left. 

"I guess I know the why, what I really want to know is what 
happens if it happens? Who will I be to you and to the child we 
create? I mean --" he pulled away from her and stood up. Shit, 
this was worse. Mulder and his pacing could mean another hour. 
She didn't think she had the emotional resolve to last that long 
before she fell apart completely. He had come far too close to 
her own insecurities. 

"I don't know." She dropped her head, unable and unwilling to 
meet his eyes. 

"You don't know? Since when do you not know? Dana Scully always 
knows what she's doing."

"Not this time." The words were whispered. She was not going to 
be able to do this.

She felt him, the heat from his body as he crouched beside her. 
Oh God, he was too close. He lifted her chin with two fingers and 
she was powerless to stop him. He would see everything in a 
moment. She felt like her soul was sitting bared for anyone who 
chanced a glance.

"Oh, Scully." He pulled her close and she allowed it. She was 
tired of fighting. 

For the second time that night, she burrowed her face into her 
partner's chest and let herself be comforted as she cried.

***************