That night, Scully arrived with a peace offering, Chinese food.  Wonton  
soup, egg rolls, kung pau shrimp, chicken with almonds, and beef and  
broccoli for Meredith, who, it had come out at the Lone Gunmen's office,  
was generally called Merry, a name that reeked of cuteness and clearly  
annoyed Mulder on general principles. 
 
But Mulder had no room to talk.  After all, with a name like Fox.... 
 
And that was another sore point, he complained to Scully; she had to  
smother her laughter when he morosely informed her that Merry refused to  
call him Mulder, and the Lone Gunmen had clearly been amused by this and  
encouraged it when he vainly tried to convince her otherwise. 
 
Scully greeted Merry gravely and showed her how to hold the chopsticks.   
 
It really was curious how much she looked like Mulder.  Especially, when  
that lower lip started to protrude slightly and tremble.  And her eyes were  
that same changeable shade of hazel.   
 
Narrowing her eyes, Scully studied Merry's jawline.  Small chin, but well  
defined.  It looked better on Merry than on Mulder.  And she was too young  
to have a definite nose.  Something prickled the back of her neck.  "By the  
pricking of my thumbs," she muttered and shook her head. 
 
They both turned and gave her curiously identical questioning looks.   
 
Oh, God, she was crazy, what she was thinking couldn't be true.  But--still,  
the notes had said that the donors had not been aware.   And the Mulder  
family had been involved before in whatever shadowy activities went on  
behind the safe and saner facade of government projects.  Safe sex might  
have had nothing to do with it, if somehow, someone had gotten a semen  
sample from Mulder.  Genetic fun and games.   
 
She shoved the thought away physically, determined not to think about it in  
front of them.  They'd know.  She was somehow sure of it. 
 
"Stop playing with the chopsticks, Mulder," she chided, and took his away  
from him.  "Merry, these are for eating, not for playing swords with Mulder."   
And gave him a look. 
 
"Spoilsport," he growled. 
 
"Auntie Dana," Merry chirped, "We're playing Three Musketeers.  I'm  
Aramis and Fox is D'Artagnan.  Mr. Byers gave me some toys, want to see?   
There's even a microscope kit." 
 
Mulder scowled.  "Circa 1968, we better be careful she doesn't invent a new  
kind of nuclear bomb." 
 
Scully ignored this.  "Let's eat first," she suggested, "While the food is still  
hot.  You can show me later." 
 
Which seriously constricted their conversation during dinner.  And kept her  
noticing the similarities between the two faces that kept turning to her. 
_____________________________ 
 
Merry regarded her meal somewhat dubiously, Mulder noticed.  "I don't like  
broccoli." 
 
Scully frowned slightly.  "Really?  It's good for you." 
 
Mulder grinned and shoved some of his shrimp onto Merry's plate,  
exchanging it for a healthy serving of hers.  She'd given up the chopsticks in  
favor of a fork, although she'd worked industriously and actually managed to  
use them as something other than skewers.  And she'd cadged a portion of  
his wonton soup and a part of his eggroll before facing the broccoli.  "It's  
okay, Scully, she had hummus and veggie burgers for lunch." 
 
Scully's mouth quirked.  "Vegetarian at noon and eating beef at dinner." 
 
Merry's gaze came up again.  "Is this from a living creature?" she wanted to  
know. 
 
"No, it's from a dead one."  Mulder ignored Scully's scandalized look.  "Here,  
eat a shrimp, they come from the sea."  Then, a quick aside to his partner,  
"Langley was indoctrinating her." 
 
"Mr. Langley told me that beef was from living creatures," Merry persisted,  
eyeing hers with disfavor.  
 
"Shrimp isn't," Mulder told her and took a bite of purloined beef.  Merry's  
eyes followed the movement of his chopsticks. 
 
"Fox, you can't eat a living creature."  Small mouth trembling suddenly,  
Merry gazed at him imploringly. 
 
He really was going to kill Langley for this.  And Scully was gazing at Merry  
as if fascinated, for some reason.  "Merry, it's not living, it's dead.  That's  
why they cooked it." 
 
"But Mr. Langley said that somebody killed a living creature just to cook it."   
The lower lip trembled a little more.  God, she actually had tears in her eyes.   
He was really going to hurt Langley over this, no doubt about it. 
 
Was it worth eating it when he'd have to deal with a distraught child?  Hell,  
no.  So he sighed and nodded.  "Okay, Merry, I won't eat the beef." 
 
Scully gave him an incredulous look, but Merry--well, Merry climbed into his  
lap abruptly, putting both arms around his neck.   
 
He was too startled to move for a moment, which was good, because it kept  
him from doing or saying anything unfortunate.  Scully eyed him  
respectfully--dare he think admiringly?  Nah, her astonishment over the hug  
he gave the child was much too obvious. 
 
"Hey," he murmured, patting her back.  "It's okay, Merry, c'mon, let's try the  
shrimp, that didn't come from a living creature." 
 
Scully rolled her eyes, but thankfully didn't contradict this blatant  
misstatement of fact.  Merry lifted her head finally and let herself be placed  
back in her chair to poke dutifully at the kung pau shrimp. 
 
In the end, she ate some of the rice and a few pieces of shrimp, watching  
him closely to see that he didn't eat what he'd said he wouldn't.  And  
followed him to see him scrape the discarded beef with broccoli in the trash. 
_____________________________ 
 
After dinner, with Merry safely involved with her microscope, Scully  
discovered that Mulder expected her to keep the child over the weekend  
while he went to New York to get Morgan.  Sometimes, she hated her  
partner.  Even though she was glad that whatever the hell had happened  
was past and he was happy again. 
 
"Now?"  She raised both her eyebrows.  "Now?  Can't she just catch a flight  
back?" 
 
He gave her a guilty look.  "Scully, I promised.  She's a little--unglued from  
whatever these guys told her." 
 
Scully sighed and looked back at Merry, talking gaily to Michael as she  
adjusted the battered microscope Byers had given her.  "All right.  Just this  
once.  But don't expect this again." 
 
His expression was relieved.  "I won't.  But I don't expect Merry to be with us  
long." 
 
You might be surprised, she thought and shook the thought away.  "Okay,   
I'll come and get her early tomorrow so you can catch your flight." 
 
He beamed at her.   "Thanks, Scully." 
 
"Huh."  She snorted.  "You owe me, partner." 
 
"Oh, yeah."  Mulder got up and went to stand at the kitchen door, watching  
Merry, a faint line forming between his brows.  "She reminds me of  
someone.  At first, I thought it was Samantha, but now--I'm not sure." 
 
She reminds you of yourself, Scully thought and shivered, thrusting the  
thought away.  "Does she?" 
 
"Yeah, but I can't put my finger on it."  He sighed and turned back to her,  
folding his arms.  "We need to go to Michigan, Scully.  But I don't know  
what we're going to do with her when we go." 
 
Scully thought about that, suddenly gave him a narrow look.  "What about  
Morgan's friend, Ray?  He protected you last year, do you think he'd help?" 
 
He smiled faintly.  "I'd already thought of that.  I'm going to talk to Morgan  
when I go up there." 
 
"Good."  She got up and carried her cup to the sink.  "Well, I think she can  
miss a bath tonight, I'll catch her tomorrow.  She's having too much fun, I  
hate to interrupt her."  Turning, she gave him a thin smile.  "We have to talk  
to her, Mulder." 
 
He nodded grimly.  "I know.  When I asked her this morning how she hid,  
she said she couldn't remember.  I've got someone in mind to work with her.   
Someone we can trust." 
 
"Yeah.  Poor kid."  Scully walked over and picked up her purse and jacket.   
"What time does your flight leave?" 
 
"Seven." 
 
"If I can, I'll get over by four, but no later than five-thirty, I promise."  She  
offered him a smile.  "You're doing pretty well, Mulder.  I'm impressed." 
 
He rolled his eyes.  "Don't put it on my resume yet.  The week is yet young." 
_____________________________ 


 
Alone with Merry again, Mulder sprawled on the couch, idly half-watching  
Merry and half-watching Freakazoid.  The Lone Gunmen had started a  
search for information on Pritcher and Wells, he hoped to have the results  
of that matter by tomorrow; and he hoped to have a call back from the child  
psychologist he'd contacted by either this evening or tomorrow morning. 
 
Which was probably going to traumatize the child even more, after  
everything he suspected she'd gone through.  And he found he hated to  
think about that, even though he really wanted to trace this back to the roots,  
even though he felt the first, faint stirrings of his obsession. 
 
Merry looked up at him, grinned, and immediately climbed up into his lap,  
leaning against his chest to tuck her thumb into her mouth.  A little startled,  
he sat up a little straighter.  "You getting tired?" 
 
She shook her head, dark head resting on his shirt front.  Raising his arm,  
he glanced at his watch and touched her hair and sighed.  "Come on, Merry,  
it's time to get ready for bed.  You can watch the rest tomorrow morning." 
 
Merry didn't move.  Sighing, he got up, lifting her with him, which at least got  
a giggle.   He smiled and tipped her down to grab Michael, which made her  
giggle again.  Then it was a ride into the bedroom where he dumped her on  
the bed, making her laugh outright. 
 
She scrambled up.  "Do it again, Fox!" 
 
Grinning, he shook his head.  "Time to get ready for bed, Merry." 
 
Sinking back down, she giggled.  Then, out of nowhere.  "Fox, why does  
Auntie Dana call you Mulder?" 
 
"Because I asked her to."  He gave her a mock evil look.  "And she, unlike  
little girls, did what I asked her to." 
 
Merry giggled again, let him tug her foot out from under her to get her shoe  
off.  "You didn't untie it!" 
 
"We can get it in the morning," he told her and dropped the shoe.  "Let me  
have the other one."   
 
Obligingly, she put her other foot out.  "Are you gonna marry Auntie Dana?" 
 
Jarred, he looked up into the small, serious face.  "Merry, Auntie Dana and I  
are good friends and partners.  We aren't dating." 
 
"Oh."  She sounded disappointed.  "How come Morgan wasn't here?  Is she  
coming?" 
 
He eyed her.  "You haven't asked about Morgan since you woke up in the  
car." 
 
She gave him a guileless look.  "I thought maybe she was going to come to  
your house." 
 
That gave him a pang.  "Well, she's in New York, visiting a friend.  She'll be  
back this weekend." 
 
Merry nodded.  "The man said that you and Morgan would take care of me.   
Are you going to be my mommy and daddy now?" 
 
It gave him another pang, this one more painful.  Sitting down on the bed, he  
gathered her back into his lap.  "Merry, nobody can be your mommy and  
daddy but your mommy and daddy.  But I'll be Fox for you." 
 
She blinked up at him.  "Are you going to take care of me for always and  
always?"  Very small voice. 
 
He reckoned what he knew of child psych against what he suspected had  
happened to her and found he couldn't give her the cold, practical answer.   
"I'll take care you as long as you need me to." 
 
That satisfied her, at least for the moment.  And made him feel like a  
monster.  
 
At least, he thought, trying to lift the moment, she had enough skills to dress  
and undress herself.  It was really weird, having a little girl around.   Aarin  
had been much easier to deal with, even early on--after all, he'd been a little  
boy once himself.   
 
As if reading his mind, Merry gave him an anxious look.  "Will you help me  
with my shirt.  I have trouble with this one, the sleeves are real tight." 
 
She was reading his mind, he told himself, mordantly amused.  Having  
escaped both marriage and parenthood, suddenly his life kept bringing him  
into parental roles.  "Sure," he told her bravely.  "Raise your arms." 
 
She did; the shirt came off as it should and the little nightshirt went over her  
head.  He was going to have to do laundry tomorrow, the nightshirt bore  
signs of the morning's cold cereal on the front.  And whoever had gotten her  
out of her parent's house and gotten her clothes had only seen fit to get  
about four days worth.  Little bitty underpants--oh, God.  He really wasn't  
equipped for this.  Ah, but Scully was going to keep her this weekend, he  
would stuff the dirty laundry in her bag and ship it over to Scully's. 
 
Why couldn't kids be more like adults?  Although that would be worse, now  
that he thought about it, he'd have to wash bras, which was a completely  
unnerving notion.  Which was stupid, too, because he'd done Morgan's  
laundry.  God, how did people cope? 
 
Merry was watching him again with that odd look on her face, as if she were  
listening to him.  "Don't you want to have any little kids, Fox?"  Anxious tone.   
 
"Um, I'm not just used to them, Merry."  He tried to smile reassuringly. 
 
She didn't look reassured.  "Don't you want me, Fox?"  Tremulous voice, the  
lower lip coming out.   
 
Boy, now he really felt like a monster.  "Of course," he told her firmly.  "Now,  
do you have to use the bathroom before you go to bed?" 
 
Merry considered that, tugged at her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger.   
"Usually, I brush my teeth before I go to bed." 
 
"Oh, yeah," Mulder told her.  "Or Auntie Dana will kill us."  Oh, bad choice of  
words, considering, he winced inwardly. 
 
But she grinned.  "I won't let her kill you, Fox.  I know what to do now." 
 
That raised a chill at the nape of his neck briefly.  But she scrambled off the  
bed and went into the bathroom, where rites of toothbrushing took place with  
a great deal of splashing and spitting.  He brushed his own, just to set a  
good example, and she was enthralled by the amount of water he expelled  
after rinsing his mouth. 
 
Kids, clearly, were weird. 
 
Then, it was time for the Twelve Dancing Princesses, another Grimm  
favorite, and he tucked her in.   
 
After a surfeit of domesticity, he retreated to the couch to watch his video of  
the Fox Alien Autopsy.  He needed some comedy after all that. 
_____________________________ 
 
The nightmare came again, never mind he knew Samantha was alive and  
well, and the matter resolved.  It didn't matter.  He still dreamed it.  Not as  
often now.  But often enough.   
 
A small hand on his face dragged him back from the house in Chilmark,  
patting him.  Small voice urgent.  "Fox, wake up.  Wake up, Fox." 
 
Blearily, he raised his head to see Merry standing there and something that  
smelled of a child's sweat and tears tickled his nose.  God, the revolting  
rabbit's ears.  "S'okay, Merry, I just had a bad dream myself." 
 
She climbed onto the couch and nestled against him behind his knees.  "It's  
okay, Fox.  You can go back to sleep.  I'll keep the bad things away.  I know  
how to now." 
 
Again, that phrase made him shiver.  Leaning down, he pulled her up.   
"How, Merry?" 
 
Even in the light from the hall, he couldn't make out her expression.  Her  
fingertips grazed his forehead, child warm.  "When I see them in there, I just  
make them go away." 
 
He pulled his head back and frowned.  "Merry, nobody can see anybody  
else's thoughts.  I can't see yours." 
 
She sighed.  "You almost can.  I can tell." 
 
He felt that chill brush him again, all along his spine.  Pulling her closer, he  
hugged her, the warm solidity of her at odds with how fragile she felt in his  
arms.  "If you can keep the nightmares away, Merry, then let's both get  
some sleep." 
 
She snuggled down, her head against his shoulder; he pulled the blanket  
over them both.  In a very little while, her breathing was slow and regular. 
 
But sleep was a long time coming for him. 
_____________________________ 
 
Jon Van Wyck greeted them cheerfully at the door of his office.  Well  
furnished, to the latest decorating scheme no doubt, it was nonetheless  
welcoming and comfortable.  But then Jon, stocky and silverhaired, was an  
entirely comfortable man. 
 
"Mulder," Jon smiled, shaking his hand.  "Good to see you again.  And who  
is this?" 
 
Merry drew back against Mulder's leg, curling an arm around Mulder's leg.   
Going down to one knee, he looked into the small serious face.  "Merry, it's  
okay.  I like Jon and he's my friend.  He won't hurt you and he won't hurt me.   
He's a good man." 
 
Jon looked at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners in concern. 
 
After a moment, Merry looked up at Mulder, her eyes searching his face  
before she offered Jon a very tentative smile.  She held out the horrible  
rabbit and tilted her head up to look at Jon, almost too perfect a pose.  "This  
is Michael." 
 
Jon's eyes crinkled again slightly at the corners.  "Nice to meet you,  
Michael." 
 
Merry gazed at Jon for a moment.  "Michael's not real."  Her eyes moved to  
Mulder, but a delighted little smile took possession of her mouth.  "I guess  
he's okay, Fox." 
 
Mulder looked down.  "You little monster," he told her involuntarily,  
admiration coloring his tone. 
 
Jon threw his head and laughed.  "She got me, Mulder, fair and square.   
C'mon, Merry, would you like some juice?"  He held out his hand.  After  
another look up at Mulder, Merry took it and led Jon lead her into the office. 
_____________________________ 
 
"When did her parents die, Mulder?"  Jon was somber.  "When I asked, her  
description made it sound immediate, but her response suggests otherwise,  
almost as if she's had years to adjust.   No signs of real trauma, no sign of  
abandonment anxieties.  If anything, it's as if she lost relatives of whom she  
was distantly fond.  She acts like her parents are still with her.  At least as if  
one of them still is still with her."  He looked at Mulder meaningfully. 
 
Mulder met Jon's gaze, then looked away.  "She's only known me a couple  
of days, Jon.  Not even two full days." 
 
Jon's expression went more somber. "That's very odd, Mulder. The bond is  
clearly there. And I don't know what to make of her statements about how  
she hid from her parents' killers.  Magical thinking is common to children,  
but it doesn't explain why she wasn't killed if she saw them." 
 
Mulder swallowed hard.  The pieces of the puzzle were still too few, but he  
didn't think magical thinking was involved.   
 
Jon's pen tapped the page.  "Mulder, she acts as if she's known you her  
entire life.  Clearly, she trusts you, and not just to protect her.  She shared a  
joke with you." 
 
Mulder sighed.  "She calls me Fox." 
 
Jon's mouth quirked.  "And you let her?  Don't project blame." 
 
He squirmed.  "So, the trauma is minimal?" 
 
"Over her parents' death, certainly.  You saw her reaction to the bad men.   
She's terrified of them, even now.  I wouldn't doubt that she equates them  
with monsters."  Jon leaned back in his chair.  "What's going to happen to  
her, Mulder?" 
 
That made him squirm again.  "I don't know.  We're going to try and find  
next of kin." 
 
Jon arched. "That's going to be traumatic.  I'm afraid she's adopted you." 
 
He let his head fall back against the chair.  Jesus, adopted.  Oh, God.    
"Jon, I'm a thirty-six bachelor.  I'm very successful at it, thank you.  I've  
worked hard for it.  And the only woman I ever wanted to marry doesn't  
believe in marriage and is in New York.  I can't take on a six year old." 
 
"She's taken *you* on."  Jon told him, trying unsuccessfully to repress a  
smile.  "But I wouldn't go playing with strange kids.  I think she's a little  
territorial." 
 
Rolling his eyes, Mulder stood up.  "C'mon, Merry, time to go." 
 
She rose, reluctantly abandoning the Etch-a-Sketch. "Can we go to  
McDonalds?"  A hopeful look, Michael dangling by his ears from one small  
fist.   
 
Mulder finally nodded.  "Okay, but don't tell Aunt Dana."  She came then,  
slipping one small hand into his.  He turned to Jon.  "Thanks again." 
 
Jon walked them to the door.   "Take care, Mulder." He leaned down.   
"Merry, take good care of Fox." 
 
Merry nodded solemnly.  "He needs somebody to take care of him." 
 
Jon straightened and met Mulder's gaze, a little quizzical.  "She's as feline  
as you are, Mulder." 
 
Merry's nose wrinkled.  "He's a Fox, not a cat." 
 
Jon laughed and shut the door behind them. 
 
"Merry."  Mulder looked down.  "Tell me the truth, you just use Michael to  
test grownups." 
 
Her expression was guileless.  "Kids don't test grownups, Fox.  Honest." 
 
"Yeah, right."  He snorted and led her down the hallway. 
____________________________ 
 
Mulder risked the drive through, despite the possibility of cameras, and  
made it home before the fries were cold, pulling into a space in front of the  
building.  Good parking karma was obviously paying off. 
 
Upstairs, perched on the kitchen chair, Merry clutched a couple of fries and  
announced.  "Jon didn't believe me, did he?" 
 
Mulder paused, the burger halfway to his mouth.  "Jon believes you believe  
it." 
 
She stuffed the fries into her mouth and chewed her expression thoughtful.   
Swallowed and took a drink of her strawberry shake.  "But you believe me." 
 
He blinked.  "Yeah, I do." 
 
She nodded and went back to her fries.   
_____________________________ 
 
While Merry played in the livingroom, he took the opportunity to pack for  
both of them.  He wasn't looking forward to telling her that he was leaving  
her for the weekend and it was purest cowardice to put off telling her until  
the last moment.   
 
"Fox?"  Merry's voice came from the door, making him swear silently. 
 
"What, Merry?"  He smiled at her, but she wasn't buying it.  Her eyes rested  
on his bag, sitting on his bed, wide and shocked. 
 
"Are you going away?"  Thin scared voice.  Big dark eyes. 
 
Something caught in his throat, made it ache.  "Come here, Merry.  I'm not  
leaving you alone." 
 
She ran to him, hugged his legs with her face pressed against his knees.   
Small shoulders trembled and his stomach knotted with guilt.  God, it was  
like kicking a puppy.  And then stomping on it.   He bent to lift her up into his  
arms.  "It's okay, honey, you're going to stay with Aunt Dana for a few days.   
I'm going to see Morgan, to tell her about you, to see if she'll come back and  
stay with us." 
 
Her thumb hesitated near her mouth.  "I don't want you to go." she Told him  
tearfully.  "Can't I go with you?  I'll be good." 
 
He sighed.  "I know that, but I can't be sure that it's safe, Merry.  We want to  
keep you safe, to keep anyone from hurting you."   
 
"I wouldn't let anybody bad see me."  A tear spilled down, running along her  
nose.   "Please, Fox?" 
 
His stomach knotted up somewhere beneath his breastbone.  "Oh, Merry.   
You can't.  You'll have fun with Dana, honey, she knows about little girls, I  
don't." 
 
Her arms went around his neck and a small, wet face pressed against it; the  
sobs that shook her small body made his own muscles tighten.  "I'll call you  
while I'm in New York," he told her, a little desperate.  "Honest, Merry, I will.   
And I'll bring you a present.  What would you like?" 
 
"I want to go with you," she sobbed.  "Please don't go away." 
 
"I'll come back, Merry," he murmured and used his fingers to comb the tear- 
damp hair away from her face and his neck until the sobbing eased.  "I'll be  
back Sunday night.  That's only two nights away, see?  That's not so bad.   
And you and Dana will have lots of fun, I'll bet.  You like Dana, don't you?" 
 
Merry nodded against his neck.  "Yes."  Very tiny voice. 
 
"She likes you, too, Merry." 
 
"But she's not you."  Merry's voice was tragic, resigned.  "You really will  
call?" 
 
"I really will."  He rubbed her back.  "I promise.  Would you like to talk to  
Morgan if I do?" 
 
Another nod.  "And you'll come back soon?" 
 
"Sunday night.  Only two nights."  He smiled as her head lifted. 
 
A knock came at the door and he could hear the click of a key in the lock.   
"Mulder?"  Scully's voice. 
 
"Back here," he called, still holding Merry. 
 
She came back to stand at the door, her mouth quirking as she took in the  
scene.  "Almost ready?" 
 
"Yeah.  Merry--"  He felt embarrassed suddenly.  "Merry got a little upset  
that I was leaving." 
 
Scully's eyes narrowed.  "You mean you just now told her?  Mulder--"  She  
shook her head, her expression amused and rueful.  "Poor planning." 
 
"Yeah."  He looked at Merry.  "Better now?" 
 
That got him a look, but Merry wanted down; he set her on her feet and  
watched her walk over to Scully.  "Thank you for letting me stay with you,  
Aunt Dana."  Dutiful little voice.  Small shoulders straight. 
 
His stomach tightened again, his shoulders straightened the same way and  
he flashed, unaccountably, on his father, some kind of somatic memory that  
made him shiver. 
 
Scully glanced at him, went back on her heels to look at Merry eye to eye.   
"I'm glad you're coming," she told her.  "We're going to stay at my friend  
Geoff's house and there's another little girl visiting this weekend.  You'll  
have someone to play with." 
 
Merry brightened visibly.  "Really?" she asked wistfully.  "That would be  
fun." 
 
"I think so.  And Geoff is taking care of Morgan's cats, all three of them, so  
you get to meet them, too." 
 
"I like cats."  Merry's voice was normal again, almost interested.  "Are they  
pretty?" 
 
Relieved, Mulder put the last pair of socks into his bag, double checked to  
make sure he hadn't forgotten anything and closed it up.    
 
"I think they're pretty," Scully told her.  "Where's your bag?" 
 
"Right here," Mulder lifted it from behind his own.  "All set.  Toothbrush and  
all." 
 
She took it.  "Let's go, Merry." 
 
Merry's expression shifted to panic briefly.  "I wanna say good-bye to Fox." 
 
Scully grinned at him and he rolled his eyes.  "I'll call you tonight," he told  
Merry solemnly, going to one knee in front of her.  "And tomorrow night, too.   
And I'll be home the next night."  Jesus, the whole thing was nuts, it wasn't  
like she was his.  Except to her point of view. 
 
Except she put her arms around his neck and kissed the corner of his  
mouth with a sticky, slightly strawberry, little girl kiss. 
 
Rocked, he stared as she scampered back to Scully, managed to gather his  
scattered thoughts enough to stand up, grab his bag, and walk out with  
them. 
____________________________ 
 
Scully pulled into the drive and pulled around to the back of the house.  She  
felt a little better about taking Merry in the back door, it didn't feel as  
exposed. 
 
Geoff was standing at the door when they got to it, his shirt sleeves rolled  
up, his collar opened.  He stared at Merry as if--God, she didn't know, but  
as if he were shocked.  Although she'd told him about Merry that first night. 
 
"What's the matter?" 
 
Geoff swallowed and looked at her.  "Dana, I think you'd better have a look  
at something."  His voice was low, and he turned to Merry with a pleasant  
smile.  "Hello, Merry.  How are you?  Come in, Caitlin is waiting for you quite  
anxiously.  For some reason she doesn't think we're quite as much fun as  
another little girl would be." 
 
Vaguely alarmed, Scully watched him as he drew Merry in, made her smile  
shyly and took her into the next room to introduce the two children.   
 
Then, while Meg, Caitlin's mother, was helping the girls break the ice, he  
drew her upstairs. 
 
"You said this child was the result of some clandestine procedure," he  
murmured.  "And I've been around Morgan enough, I felt some kind of-- 
God, premonition or something.  You need to see this." 
 
"What are you going to show me?"  She felt peculiarly off balance as he led  
her into Morgan's room.  Still and lifeless, its occupant long gone.  Except  
for the pictures around the edges of the mirror above the dresser. 
 
Pictures of friends.  Morgan and Sharon Williams laughing at the camera,  
Aarin held against Morgan's hip.  Her eyes stung and blurred at that, it was  
hard to see clearly for a moment and she looked quickly away, saw other  
friends, saw Emily and Jon, Sharon again.  And a man she didn't know  
standing with his arm around Morgan.   A little girl standing in front of  
Morgan.  Younger than Merry.  But with the same distinctive eyes and  
brows. 
 
She caught her breath.  "God." 
 
"Yes."  Geoff nodded.  "For a moment, I had the strangest feeling that time  
had slipped.  Or something.  I never saw two children who looked more  
alike."  He handed her another photo; an older photograph of another child.   
"This is Morgan at eight." 
 
The first surprise past, Scully took the second photo down, peered at it.   
"Their mouths and chins are different."  She looked directly at Geoff.  "Merry  
has Mulder's chin and mouth." 
 
His eyebrows drew together.  "What the hell is going on, Dana?" 
 
"I wish I knew."  She bit her lip, studying the photo.  "Geoff, I want a DNA  
test done on Merry.  Can you get it done quietly?" 
 
"Of course."  He sighed.  "This is insanity.  How did this happen?" 
 
"You don't want to know."  A strange certainty made her stomach queasy.   
"If I'm right, both Mulder and Morgan were raped.  Violated." 
 
He made a sound through his teeth.  "Christ."  His eyes returned to the  
mirror.  "Dana, is this going to bring her back into danger?  Because if it is-- 
" 
 
"The only one in danger right now might be that little girl.  And she's safe  
enough now."  She kept her tone even, kept herself from snapping at him.   
Was irresistably reminded that Geoff and Morgan had once been lovers.   
 
And even though she'd known that long before, it bothered her now.   
______________________________ 
 
Friday was a peculiar day.  Morgan changed three times before Mulder's  
plane arrived, and paced the penthouse until, finally, the phone from the  
lobby rang. 
 
Her voice brittle, she told the doorman to send Mulder up.  Checked her  
appearance again in the hallway mirror--vanity, thy name is Morgan, sang a  
lunatic voice in the back of her mind--and paced the foyer again, waiting,  
finally laughing softly at her own nerves. 
 
She couldn't hit him with it all at once.  There were other things to be  
mended.  Things she had clumsily smashed out of her fear for him.   
 
When the elevator door opened, she all but flung herself forward. 
 
Mulder staggered slightly and dropped his bag, eyes widening, mouth  
curving as his arms came up around her.   
 
"Now this is more like it," he murmured. 
 
Terror made her giddy.  She'd lived so long without letting anyone in, so  
long.  Not Geoff or Ray, and least of all, Marc.  "I've missed you," she  
whispered and he kissed her, arms tightening almost hard enough to hurt.   
Not quite.  Kissed her hard and long until she felt dizzy, spinning out of  
control. 
 
Until she felt the walls he'd erected again come down, could feel his relief  
and gladness.  It made deals cut with devils--or angels--well worthwhile,  
easier to bear, easier to justify. 
 
She loved him, God help them both.  Loved him enough to lean on him  
when she needed to.  Loved him enough to want him with her.  Enough to  
need to mend what she had broken. 
 
The elevator doors tried to close, but his bag was in the way.  Twice more  
and they both began to laugh at the same moment.  Grinning, Mulder kicked  
it out of the way and lifted her over it, laughing again. 
 
"I didn't miss you a bit," he told her, but his eyes gave his words the lie.   
 
Morgan grinned.  "Me, either.  I was just being polite." 
 
"The perfect hostess," he told her, trying for a straight face.  He couldn't  
maintain it and pulled her close again, just holding her tightly. 
 
The elevator closed behind them, barely noticed by either of them. 
 
Drawing back, Morgan smiled, pressed her cheek against his shirt,  
breathing in the scent of him:  the smell of his skin beneath the faintest  
trace of the soap he'd used to shower with, the laundry detergent she'd  
used on their clothes, the canned air of the flight.  She could hear his  
heartbeat, a little rapid, and smiled, closing her eyes.   
 
His left hand rose, his fingers moved in her newly shorn hair.  "You got your  
hair cut again." 
 
"Too much fuss," she murmured, not moving, then pulled away, reaching  
out to lace her fingers into his.  "C'mon, G-man, let's get you unpacked." 
 
Mulder laughed, reached down and snagged the bag with his free hand.  "I  
suspect ulterior motives." 
 
Morgan laughed softly, huskily.  "Only if you're very, very good." 
 
"I'm always very, very good.  At least that's what you keep telling me."  He  
leered playfully and let himself be led down the hall. 
_____________________________ 
 
Lying on his back in the wreckage they'd made of Morgan's bed, her  
fingertips tracing his jaw, Mulder studied the room.  Noticing things that, by  
themselves, were normal and innocuous, but taken together--it was a  
curiously Morganish room, and not in a transitory way.  The furnishings  
were very much to her taste, as he knew it.  The prints on the wall, which he  
darkly suspected were originals, the bed itself, piled generously to feed her  
addiction to pillows, the small love seat, the tall cases of books, and the  
computer desk in the corner--it spoke more of permanence than a  
temporary habitation.   
 
And roused all his insecurity again. 
 
It was a sanctuary like she'd had in the house she'd shared with Geoff.  He  
suddenly wondered if that had been part of the problem, if that had been  
part of why she'd run.  All they'd had together before had been months of  
fear and running--and he'd never provided her with a sanctuary.  Never  
given her the sense that she was safe.   His stomach rolled and tightened  
and drove the words from him before he thought them through.  "Are you  
fucking Ray?"  Harsh voice.  Shattering the comfortable silence. 
 
Morgan sat up suddenly, dark brows angling downward angrily. 
 
It sent a shiver through him--Jesus, he'd seen Merry do that, Merry  
reminded him of Morgan.  But he couldn't examine that now, not with  
Morgan staring at him as if he were a stranger. 
 
"Am I what?"  Her voice was chilly.  Distant.  "Tell me you didn't ask what it  
sounded like you asked." 
 
Mulder wanted to snatch the words back.  Too late.  "I asked it.  Are you  
gonna tell me?" 
 
Her eyes darkened and she took a deep breath.  She'd always been afraid  
of her temper, now more than ever, he knew it.  Another deep breath and he  
could see the retreat, the conscious choice to let anger go.  And felt worse. 
 
"No, I am not, as you so delicately put it, fucking Ray."  Crawling over him,  
she got out of bed, snagged his shirt and pulled it over her head.   
 
"I'm sorry."  His stomach hurt worse and he sat up, leaning on his elbows.   
"I don't have any right or reason to ask that.  But--"  He swallowed hard.  "I  
know he loves you." 
 
Morgan came back to the bed and sat, studying him for a long moment.   
"Ray and I were lovers a long time ago.  I love him as a friend."  She took in  
another deep breath, another step back from anger.  "I don't do two  
relationships at once, it's emotionally untidy for me, and hurtful, generally,  
for the other parties involved.  Okay?" 
 
He risked touching her, took her hand and brought it to his mouth briefly.   
"Sorry."  Ruefully.  "I'm a jerk.  I'm not usually this much of a jerk, but I'm a  
jerk." 
 
Morgan quirked a smile at him.  "Your timing is peculiar, to say the least."   
She leaned down against his chest and nipped his chin.  "I love *you* too  
much, it terrifies the hell out of me.  I just don't *do* that."   
 
Her tone was almost aggrieved--he tipped his head back and laughed in  
pure relief and embarrassment.  "Oh, great, I thought *I* was the only one in  
trouble." 
 
Morgan scowled at him for a moment, but softened to a rueful look.  "Moron.   
Why else would I make a fool of myself over a younger man?" 
 
He pulled her closer, amused again at how it occasionally troubled her.   
"Seven years is hardly robbing the cradle.  Besides, I'm wise beyond my  
years, that's why you love me, isn't it?" 
 
Morgan snickered.  "No, I only love you for your body and libido.  Your brain  
has nothing to do with it." 
 
He mimed heartbroken surprise.  "Oh, God, you don't respect me." 
 
She nipped him again.  "Nope, not a bit.  Are you hungry, my handsome boy  
toy?  I want to be sure you keep up your strength?" 
 
He pinched her ass, got a yelp and leaned up again as she escaped.  "That  
shirt looks better on you than it does on me." 
 
"That's a matter of perspective," she told him tartly.  "Behave yourself while  
I'm gone." 
 
Grinning, he got out of bed and rummaged through his bag to get the folder  
on Merry.  Laid it down on the bedside table and managed to reduce the  
mess they'd made of the bed before slipping back under the bedclothes,  
just as she appeared with a tray. 
 
Her smile was serene; the tray held cold roast chicken, grapes, apples,  
French bread, and cheese.  And a bottle of wine, with two glasses. 
 
He grinned.  "Are you seducing me, Dr. Grayson." 
 
"I already have."  She laid the tray down and slipped into bed beside him,  
giving him a very thorough kiss.  Then, catching sight of the folder, she  
scowled.  "All work and no play, Mulder." 
 
Mulder kissed the tip of her nose.  "Well, I've got to distract you until I can  
provide you with the exquisite service you desire.  I don't want you to dump  
me for a younger man." 
 
"Heh."  She grimaced at the folder. 
 
He grinned again, reached down and tore a drumstick off the chicken, took  
a healthy bite from it. 
 
After a moment, she sighed and slipped out of bed again, went to her  
dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling out three folders.   
 
He blinked at that, frowned.  "That's what they brought to you."  
 
She nodded, her smile wan.  "Yeah.  But let's eat first.  Then you can show  
me yours and I'll show you mine."   The smile picked up energy. 
 
He grinned and mock leered, caught her wrist as she came close and  
tugged her into his lap.  "Oh, yeah, that sounds like a great idea." 
 
Snickering, she settled between his legs and picked up an apple slice.   
"You're such a well trained boy toy." 
 
"I do aim to please," he murmured, trying to avoid introducing the chicken to  
her hair.  "At least most of the time." 
 
"And do very well."  She leaned back against his chest.  "Oh, my.  It's a  
terrible thing to discover my capacity for hedonism.  Or mushy  
sentimentality." 
 
Mulder snorted, nearly choked on a bite of chicken.  "Mushy?"  And  
chortled, once he'd recovered.  "Oh, right." 
 
She pinched his thigh and reached for his file.  "Okay, tell, what is this?" 
 
"Very strange stuff.  Happened on Wednesday night."  He took another bite.   
"Somebody left me a very special package in my trunk." 
 
Glancing back, Morgan frowned and turned back to open the file. 
_______________________ 
 
Morgan's stomach hurt, her chest hurt.  Oh, God, she couldn't wait, she  
had to tell him everything, everything at once. 
 
She hadn't wanted it to be this way, hadn't wanted to have to tell him until  
she'd had the chance to mend the damage she had caused.  Until they were  
okay again.  But this-- 
 
"Oh, hell," he growled behind her and reached for the phone.  "I promised to  
call and it's nearly nine.  Scully's going to have my head." 
 
"I won't let her."  Morgan forced herself to smile at him and got a grin back  
as he dialed.   
 
"I'll tell her."  His gaze went distant as he listened.  "Hi, Geoff, is Scully  
there?  Yeah, well, actually, I promised Merry I'd call, is she still up?"  He  
grinned again.  "Oh, yeah, okay." 
 
Morgan looked back down at the folder she held, took in a deep breath to  
keep either anger or terror at bay, she wasn't sure which.  She wanted to  
fling it away from her, to scream, to do any one of a hundred things. 
 
"Hi, Merry," Mulder was saying into the phone.  "Yeah, I'm here.  Well, I've  
just been telling her about you."  His eyes came back to Morgan.  "Sure,  
hang on a minute."  His hand went over the mouthpiece.  "Um.  She wants  
to say hello to you." 
 
This time her smile was genuine, if only for the fact of his apologetic, yet  
hopeful expression.  Reaching out, she took the phone, held it to her ear.   
"Hello, Merry," she said into it, "I'm Morgan." 
 
There was a faint sound, not quite laughter, not quite excitement.  "Are you  
going to come back with Fox?" 
 
"Yes."  Morgan's mouth was dry.  "Yes, I am.  Probably sometime  
tomorrow."   Mulder's brows rose quizzically.  She could feel his curiosity,  
walled herself away from it.  "Be good for Dana and Geoff." 
 
"I will."  Merry giggled.  An entirely little girl sound that nearly broke her  
heart.  "Can I say bye to Fox?" 
 
"Of course."  Morgan handed the phone back, trying to offer him a  
reassuring smile.  
 
When he hung up, he gave her a quizzical look.  "What's the matter, babe?" 
 
She reached for the three folders.  The red, the green, the plain manila one.   
"I was given this by the man who came to see me."  she pulled the bottom  
folder out and gave it to him, shaking just a little. 
 
Mulder took it, gazing at her seriously.  "This is about your family." 
 
She nodded.   Licking dry lips, she opened the folder he held.  "Read it." 
 
His eyes were troubled.  "Morgan--" 
 
"Just read it."  Morgan rose and got out of bed, went to his bag, rummaged  
through it shamelessly to retrieve his sweatshirt and jeans.  "Here, you  
might want these." 
 
He gave her another swift, troubled look.  "Who are these people?" 
 
"My parents."  Going to her dresser, Morgan withdrew warm cotton socks, a  
pair of leggings, and pulled them on, shivering until she'd replaced Mulder's  
shirt with an oversized sweater.  Only then did she sit down beside him  
again. 
 
"Your brother," he finally said softly, and the echo of ancient pain could be  
heard in his voice.  "They used your brother for their goddamned tests." 
 
Looking up, Morgan shivered again, leaned over to pull the second folder  
closer.  "Now, read the rest." 
 
He gave her another long look and flipped the page over, peering at the  
copies.  "These aren't originals." 
 
"It's an active file, they told me."  Morgan swallowed hard against the knot in  
her throat.  "Just read it, Fox, you need to understand." 
 
His eyes were worried, showing the beginnings of understanding already;  
putting his arm over her shoulders, he read, frown growing deeper and  
deeper as he did.  "Oh, those rat bastards," it was almost a prayer, "You're  
CX23474B, Morgan."  And his head came up, eyes widening. 
 
She handed him the second folder.  "It contains most of the material you  
already have.  I don't think you need to read it.  But this one--" She reached,  
one last time, last time pays for all, and retrieved the last folder.  "I got this  
one this afternoon.  I negotiated with them, we reached an agreement."  Her  
eyes burned suddenly and she slid her arm around him as she laid it in his  
lap, over *her* file.  "Read it." 
 
He opened it, going pale as chalk when he saw his parents faces staring at  
him from inside the cover.  "AY711342--my father."  It was a whisper and  
his hands began to tremble.  "These are copies, too." 
 
"It's an active file."  Her voice was tight, almost too high.  "But they weren't  
happy with the results, the environments for both CX23474B and  
AY711342A weren't healthy enough, both subjects show strong tendencies  
to depression, to emotional instability, but they liked a lot of what they got."   
Pressing a finger against his arm.  "Eidetic memory, high intelligence,  
strong will."  Against her face.  "Paranormal abilities, something they'd been  
working for since 1939.  Intelligence, strong will, and something close to  
eidetic memory.  They decided to try again, to combine genetic material from  
two of their near successes." 
 
Mulder's eyes met hers, haunted and stricken.   "No, dammit."  But it was a  
whisper. 
 
She handed him the folder he'd brought.  "Now, read this again," she  
whispered, nauseated and shaking.  "Read this and see what they've done,  
Fox.  See what they've done to us." 
________________________________ 
 
As it happened, the clothes were welcome, they gave him a little balance as  
he read.  And reread.  Reading Merry's file again, after reading what Morgan  
had given him, was like watching a disaster about to happen.  Mulder kept  
reading, his chest hurt, his hands ached with the sweet, urgent desire to  
crush something, crush anything.  They had obtained genetic material from  
both subjects nearly almost seven years ago. 
 
The timing made him lift his head.  Reggie'd taken him to a hospital in Idaho  
after he'd run through a glass door, trying desperately to get a kid out of  
range of her father's gun.   
 
He'd made it, and the sharpshooter outside had taken Dad down, but he'd  
felt stupid and clumsy over it.  Not a memory he was proud of, and now  
there was less reason.  They'd taken genetic material--bending his head, he  
read again, remembering the doctor he hadn't much liked, remembering  
Reggie's hand on his shoulders, holding him still as he got stitches in his  
shoulder, upper arm, upper thigh and the back of his hand.  They were neat  
stitches; they'd kept him overnight, citing concussion and loss of blood and  
Reggie was just pissed enough at him to let them. 
 
He'd spent the night sedated, so bad tempered the nurses must have taken  
a vote and given him a jolt of something that knocked him flat on his ass.   
Anything could have happened that night--he'd woken feeling sorer in a lot  
of places than he'd expected, right down to muscles--so he thought--in his  
groin.  When he'd bitched, Reggie had grinned humorlessly and told him  
that he'd taken a running broad jump into the glass and should be counting  
his blessings he hadn't sprung an artery.  "Seven years ago," he said  
harshly.  "What were you doing?" 
 
"Seven years ago, I nearly died." Morgan's voice was soft, shaky.  "Cele did,  
and her husband Terry shot himself.  April.  The cruelest month."  A sound  
that wasn't laughter.  "He shot me in the belly, it was a mess, peritonitis,  
they cleaned me up and out, partial hysterectomy.  It was three days before  
anybody really thought I'd live through it."  She raised her head again,  
meeting his gaze.  "Maybe they got a little panicked.  What about you?" 
 
April.  Panic didn't sound likely, but a last ditch effort to save genetic  
material they didn't want to lose made sense.  Except that she'd said partial  
hysterectomy.  His stomach was a tight, hard shape under his skin, under  
his ribs.  "April," he whispered.  "That kid is you and me, Morgan." 
 
This time, the sound was laughter, but it was too damned close to hysteria.   
"A whole new subject for them.  Where's the rest of this file, Mulder?" 
 
"Scully has it.  She wanted to talk to someone about the procedure.  Said it  
sounded like in vitro, with a little extra something added in." 
 
"Genetic manipulation."  Morgan put a hand over her mouth briefly, rocked  
with laughter.  "It must gall them terribly to have the two of us getting in their  
way.  And now she's missing." 
 
"They were going to kill her."  Something sharp clawed at his gut.  "Oh, god,  
they were going to kill her, she wasn't quite what they wanted, either, but I  
don't know why." 
 
"Hey, she's us, squared."  Morgan laughed again, raggedly.  "She probably  
scares them to death.  One on one, they seem to worry about us a little  
more than they need to."  Tears streaked her face.  "That poor damned kid,  
that poor little kid.  She's ours, but she's not--her daddy was a test tube, her  
mommy in vitro solution." 
 
"Surrogate implantation," he said softly, still staring at the paper.  "Dr.  
Pritcher and Dr. Wells.  Mr. and Mrs. Jack Sands, late of Belmont,  
Michigan."  He lifted his head, his expression stony.  "I'm not going to let  
them kill her." 
 
Morgan laughed again, riding the edge of hysteria.  "How are we going to  
stop them, Fox, we couldn't even stop them from killing Aarin?" 
 
His hands came up to grip her upper arms, too hard,  bruisingly hard.  Saw  
her wince and realized it, loosened his grip.  Staring at her, he took in a  
shaky breath.  "We won't let it happen again." 
 
Morgan drew her knees up under her chin, really crying now.  "I swore I  
wouldn't let anything take me to that darkness again, I swore I wouldn't.  But  
they keep pushing me harder and harder, Fox." 
 
Abruptly, his own horror and grief gave way in front of hers.  Pulling her  
roughly into his arms, he pressed his cheek against her hair.  "No, babe, I  
don't know how I'm going to stop them, but I'm not going to let them hurt  
anyone I love again."  And felt tears burn his face as they slipped,  
unheeded, into her hair. 
 
When she calmed again, he made love to her.  Held her close as if she  
were something fragile, remembering a night in Massachusetts when she'd  
begged him to bring her back, to keep her in the here and now.  To  
physically hold her in this world. 
 
It was all he could do for the moment.  And when she slept, he stayed  
awake.  Reading through the files again.  All of them. 
__________________________________ 
 
Mulder woke to the smell of coffee, faint and enticing.  Rolling out of bed, he  
pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and padded down the hall, through the  
extravagant diningroom and into the kitchen. 
 
Morgan sat at the counter beside Ray Palmer, his elegantly tailored suit in  
stark contrast to Morgan's tousled hair, the fact that she wore M.'s rumpled  
shirt, and dark blue leggings, bare feet resting on the rungs of the tall  
captain's chair. 
 
He cleared his throat.  They both turned to face him, Morgan's eyes lighting  
just enough to make him feel less awkward in Ray's presence. 
 
Not that Ray gave any hint of the reverse.  Rising, he grinned, held out a  
hand for Mulder to shake.  "Good to see you again, Mulder." 
 
Mulder managed a grin in return, let Morgan slip an arm around his waist  
and draw him to the counter.  "I'm going to need that big cup, Maggi," she  
told the woman near the stove, a round and pleasant faced woman, surely in  
her fifties. 
 
Maggi chuckled and brought out the mother of all coffee cups, eyeing him  
as she poured.  When she spoke, a faint indefinable accent teased him.  "I  
hope you drink your coffee the way it should be drunk.  Not like Dr. Morgan,  
here." 
 
Dr. Morgan.  He smiled at that, nodded at Maggi and slid into the chair Ray  
had vacated, reaching out to accept the cup.  "Thanks, Maggi." 
 
"You're too thin," she told him accusingly, "I will make you an omelet like you  
have never eaten." 
 
Morgan grinned at him.  "Spoil him, Maggi, he needs it." 
 
Maggi snorted and Mulder turned back to Ray. 
 
"Make yourself at home," Ray told him pleasantly.  "I'm leaving for London  
this morning.  Enjoy the weekend, both of you.  And Moggs, you might  
consider using those theater tickets, the seats are excellent." 
 
Morgan only laughed, "I'll consider it." 
 
"Theater tickets?" Mulder mouthed, arching an eyebrow, as Ray left the  
room.   
 
"Cats."  Morgan rolled her eyes.  "Ray adores it, but I've seen it a couple of  
times.  I'll bet even you've seen it, Mulder." 
 
He had, actually, in London, with Phoebe.  "Oh, yeah," he told her and  
leaned over to kiss her mouth softly.  "Good morning." 
 
"Good morning."  There was still a shadow behind her eyes, behind the  
brightness of her smile.  "Did you sleep okay?  I thought we'd both end up  
having nightmares." 
 
"Not unless you count dreaming about being in the hospital," he told her drily  
and smoothed the hair back from her cheeks.  "How's Ray?" 
 
"Very well, I guess.  Busy."  She sipped at her own cup, pale with cream  
and doubtless sweetened, usually with the blue stuff, as she called it.  "I told  
him I was jealous of his going to London and he offered me a trip?"  Sunny  
Morgan smile.  "But you were coming this weekend, so I'll have to stowaway  
some other time." 
 
The coffee was really good.  Outstanding.  "The Brits make terrible coffee."  
 
Morgan snickered.  "Of course.  And, frankly, their cuisine is only so-so.   
However, baked goods.  God, I could explode eating almond meringues." 
 
That made him grin.  "It sounds like an X-file to me." 
 
Sliding off the chair, she leaned into his arms and kissed the tip of his nose.   
"Everything sounds like an X file to you, G-man.  Your raison d'etre." 
 
"Heh, heh."  But he kissed her back anyway, let go of her when she pulled  
back and padded around the kitchen counter to the cabinets, opening them  
to pull out plates and glasses.  Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the  
counter and wistfully remembered her doing this at his apartment.   
Remembered the the sound of Morgan singing under her breath to the radio  
while she murdered another helpless pot of coffee.  Missed it fiercely  
enough that his throat ached. 
 
"Do you want to go anywhere special today, or just hang out?"  She put a  
plate down in front of him, followed this with silverware and napkin 
 
"I vote for hanging out."  Mulder watched as she laid out her place the same  
way, reached out and caught her waist as she came back to her chair and  
made her laugh again when he pulled her up into his lap. 
 
"Behave yourself, G-man," she told him, mock-sternly, putting her arms  
around his neck. 
 
"I am."  His arm fit nicely around her waist; she was still too thin, for her, and  
he found he liked her a little more--his mouth quirked involuntarily.  "You're  
still not as lush as you should be." 
 
"Lush?"  Morgan leaned back against his chest.  "Lush?  Did I hear  
correctly?" 
 
"Lush," he repeated, snickering.  "All curvy and cushiony." 
 
"You make me sound like a new mattress," Morgan groused, but didn't  
attempt to get down.  "Honestly, I'm kind of enjoying being thin." 
 
"Bruised my hips last night," Mulder muttered, trying not to laugh again.   
 
"Huh."  Tipping her head back, Morgan eyed him.  "Very funny, G-man." 
 
Maggi put a stop to this line of conversation by snatching up their plates and  
returning them with omelets, fresh croissants, grapefruit juice, and assorted  
condiments. 
 
"Wow."  Mulder slid a grin down at her.  "You never treat me this way." 
 
"Hah."  Morgan shifted to her chair.  "So you didn't get croissants.  If you  
ever bought groceries, you might have." 
 
He laughed and put a bite of omelet into her mouth, thereby stopping any  
further protests. 
__________________________________ 
 
The day was very fine, the kind of late summer, early autumn day that  
makes winter easy to forget, makes it easy to believe that summer will last  
forever.  More sun than not, shirtsleeve weather, and only the occasional  
breeze filtering through the streets and alleyways of Manhattan. 
 
Mulder was amazed at the level of energy Morgan seemed to have  
recovered; she dragged him from bookstore to cafe to deli and then began  
again, introducing him to more people than he'd met in during more than   
ten years of living in Washington DC.   
 
Some knew her relatively well, that much was obvious from the way they  
angled for an introduction to this stranger with Dr. Morgan, as they called  
her.  Others were no more than friendly acquaintances, who didn't bother  
with him, other than a curious look or two. 
 
"You have a very limited set of interests," he finally complained, sitting on a  
park bench, having dragged her literally off her feet in order to get some rest  
for his own.  "Books, food, coffee--you should broaden your horizons." 
 
Morgan snickered and leaned against his shoulder.  "Right.  You forgot  
sex." 
 
Mulder grinned.  He was carrying bags that held books on physics, books  
on genetics, books on UFOs and other more arcane subjects, not to  
mention things so mundane as fairy tale collections.  Turning a little, he  
shifted her so that her head rested in the hollow between his neck and  
shoulder, slid his arm around her waist. 
 
"You're going to spoil me," she murmured and he looked down, saw the  
faintest violet of exhaustion underneath her eyes.  "I'm going to go back with  
you, Fox." 
 
Fox.  Well, that was nice, considering that he'd wanted her to, and the use  
of his name suggested it was just as much an emotional decision as  
anything else.  But it made his throat tighten, even as much as he wanted  
her back.  "You gonna be okay with her?"   
 
"As okay as I can be."  Her eyes closed, Morgan tipped her face up to the  
afternoon sun.   
 
He saw the faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and  
cheekbones and smiled.  "Freckles.  Why do you have freckles, your hair is  
darker than mine?" 
 
"My skin is fairer."  Her eyes opened, impossibly green in the sunlight.  His  
changed with emotion, hers changed with the light.  "And me Irish blood,  
laddie." 
 
"Oh, God, I'm surrounded by Irish women."  He snickered, rubbed his chin  
against her hair.  "All right, I'm rested, now where?" 
 
"Back to the penthouse again."  But she lolled in his arms, apparently  
content for the moment.  "Fox, you told her you'd bring her something, we'd  
better get it today, I'd like to leave tonight." 
 
"A woman of decision.  I know just what I want."  He grinned at her  
speculative look, got up and tugged her to her feet.  "Follow me." 
__________________________________ 
 
They went to the Nature Company.   
 
Living creatures, Mulder smiled to himself and searched for a while, wanting  
just the right thing.  He finally found the most wonderful Jackson's  
chameleon, a lively looking hand puppet which, when squeezed properly  
from inside, whirled its eyes and stuck out its tongue, to which a fly was  
affixed. 
 
"This is it," he told Morgan and held it up, admiring it.  "This is sensational.   
Lots better than that damned rabbit." 
 
"God, it's a reptile," Morgan muttered and picked up a plush dolphin, that  
would turn inside out and transform into a globe.  "What about this?" 
 
"Nah, I like this."  Mulder grinned as Morgan rolled her eyes, laughed  
outright when she took it from him and examined it.  "It's great, I wish I had  
one of my own." 
 
"I shudder to think," Morgan muttered, making him laugh again. 
 
"You're just jealous," he mock-growled and carried his selection to the  
counter.  Morgan followed, still carrying the dolphin.  He paid for his and she  
paid for hers;  they emerged back outside to find the sun much lower in the  
sky.   
 
"Better get back and get packed," Morgan sighed, linked her arm through  
his.  "You know, I think this is only the second time we've been able to  
spend an entire day of decadent frivolity with each other." 
 
Mulder chuckled.  "Shopping is decadent?" 
 
"Certainly.  Rampant consumerism."   Releasing his arm, Morgan stepped  
past him, out into the street, one arm raised.  Hailing a cab.   
 
But knowing that didn't stop the quick wariness he felt, nor successfully  
quell the desire to step out after her and jerk her back with him.  And she  
looked back at him, smiling bittersweet.  "It's all right, we're still safe  
enough.  They aren't watching us, at least no more than usual." 
 
It dimmed his pleasure in the day, but not sufficiently that he did not cherish  
the weight of her against the curve of his arm, once they'd gotten in the  
backseat of the cab.  And nothing could diminish the pleasure of having her  
return with him. 
 
Nothing. 
__________________________________ 
 
The earliest they could get back was the that evening, just past nine.   
Morgan was mostly silent, leaning against Mulde, all the way back to DC.   
Even in the terminal, waiting for her bags, she leaned against him as if she  
were mortally tired, all the energy of the day spent. 
 
It was too late to roust Merry out of bed.  But it wasn't too late to go to the  
house.  Morgan's room was still there. 
 
Scully and Geoff were snuggled up on the couch; she looked up when they  
came in, her hands moving toward the coffee table. 
 
Mulder almost smiled.  Toward her gun, sitting on the coffee table,  just in  
case.  "Sorry, we came back early." 
 
Scully relaxed, but Geoff's eyes were narrowed, resting on Morgan.  Scully's  
mouth curved slightly as she examined them both. "Merry's up in bed,  
Mulder.  She might even be awake.  She seems to have your nocturnal  
habits, I think you've corrupted that child." 
 
"Morgan?"  Geoff's voice was questioning, sharp.  "What is it?" 
 
Morgan gave him a blank look.  Mulder put his arm around her.  "She's  
tired."  He gave Scully a meaningful look.  "I think she overdid it a little on  
being tourist guide." 
 
Geoff, clearly, was not convinced.  But he nodded, his jaw tight.  "Well,  
there are clean sheets on her bed upstairs.  You might need to shake the  
dust off the comforter." 
 
"Yeah."  Mulder nodded.  "C'mon, babe, let's get some rest." 
 
Scully's eyes were narrowed, watching him.  As he passed, he mouthed  
"Tomorrow" at her, saw her comprehension and smiled again.  That was his  
partner.  Nobody could ever say Dana Scully was slow on the uptake. 
 
They'd put a nightlight in the guest room for Merry.  Scully was right; when  
Mulder leaned in, Merry sat upright.  "Fox?" 
 
He closed his eyes briefly.  Well, she was her mother's daughter.  "How did  
you know?" 
 
"I just did.  You didn't call, so I knew you were coming back."  He heard the  
bed rustle as Merry came to the foot of it, looking even smaller in the  
queensized guest bed. 
 
"Hello, Merry."  Morgan's voice was soft, almost uninflected. 
 
Merry bounced, sheer excitement.  "Hi, Morgan.  Are you going to stay  
now?" 
 
He heard Morgan swallow.  "I certainly am."  And heard her mutter.  "She  
has more than just your nocturnal habits, G-man.  Cuts straight to the  
chase." 
 
He almost grinned, unseen.  "Well, she has your temper." 
 
"Thanks." 
 
Merry went still.  "Something's the matter?  Why are you sad, Morgan?" 
 
He swallowed this time.  "Merry--" 
 
She bounced again.  "You *are* my real mommy and daddy, aren't you?" 
 
Morgan let out her breath shakily.  "Yes, Merry.  But it isn't polite to look at  
other peoples thoughts without asking." 
 
His mind jerked away from that concept, stepped around it cautiously to  
examine it, and he shivered.  "No, it isn't."  His voice was firm.  "Although,"  
he muttered, out of the corner of his mouth, "it certainly saves time.  I wish I  
could do that with you." 
 
Morgan actually laughed a little.  "Yeah.  I suppose it would make things  
easier." 
 
Merry was still again.  "It's not polite," she repeated, her voice rising as if it  
were a question. 
 
"Nope," Morgan sounded more normal now, less taut.  "It's very impolite,  
Merry.  Sometimes you can't help but feel it, or hear them, but until that  
happens, you stay out of other peoples' minds." 
 
Mulder shook his head to clear it.  This was really bizarre.  Not only was he  
dealing with an X file that was his daughter, but he was nodding as if this all  
made sense. 
 
"Okay."  Merry's voice was subdued.  "I'm sorry, Fox." 
 
"It's all right."  Reaching out, he lifted her up, hugged her.  "Did you have a  
good time?" 
 
"There are lots of cats here," she told him.  "Five." 
 
"Oh, God," Morgan groaned.  "I'm only responsible for three.  The rest must  
be Geoff's fault." 
 
Merry bounced again.  "Uncle Geoff got me a kitten."   
 
"I'll kill him," Mulder muttered. 
 
"Stand in line," Morgan muttered back. 
 
He could see the shine of Merry's eyes in the night light.  "Can I keep it?" 
 
"Not in the apartment," Mulder told her.  "Not allowed to have pets there." 
 
Morgan snorted.  "Coward." 
 
"No way."  Hugging Merry again, he carried her back toward the head of the  
bed.  "Time for little girls to sleep." 
 
Her arms went around his neck.  "Are you going to sleep?"  Wistful voice. 
 
"Very soon."  He ruffled her hair.  "And not on the couch." 
 
"Where?" 
 
"In Morgan's room." 
 
There was a brief silence.  "With Morgan?" 
 
He swallowed.  "Yes." 
 
Morgan snickered. 
 
"Why?"  There was an undertone, almost possessive, to that question. 
 
He stroked Merry's hair.  He hadn't considered that possibility.  "Because  
that's how things are.  I like being with Morgan." 
 
"Oh."   
 
Mulder could hear almost hear the wheels turning.  Jesus, a child with both  
their brains, both their instinctive sneakiness, and her mother's gifts.  He  
was in real trouble now.  "And we don't need company," he told her firmly.   
"You go to sleep with Michael Rabbit, and I'll give you your present in the  
morning." 
 
Morgan snickered again.  "Smooth move, G-man.  Better go get it right  
now." 
 
Well, it was true, Morgan had more experience than he did.  And Merry had  
already bounced upright again. 
 
Resigned he went out to the hall and retrieved the bag from the Nature  
Company.  Turned on the bedside lamp when he sat down.  Morgan leaned  
over the footboard of the bed, clearly enjoying herself.  He scowled at her,  
and gave the bag to Merry. 
 
She pulled out the Jackson's Chameleon and gaped at it.  He grinned.  "It's  
a puppet, Merry."  Sliding his hand into it, he made it whirl its eyes, made it  
stick out its tongue.   
 
Merry giggled at the fly.  "Fox, that's gross." 
 
He did it again, adding sound effects.  "Bleeeeh." 
 
She giggled again, insisted on doing it herself.  Her hand was much smaller  
and it was harder for her to manage, but she finally crowed in delight as the  
tongue came out.  "Bleeeeh," she said, mimicking him. 
 
Morgan sighed.  "Great example, G-man.  I can see our hands are going to  
be very full." 
 
He snickered back.  "Paybacks are hell." 
 
"I was a very good, very subdued child," she told him.  "I don't know about  
you, but I never made racket in the middle of the night." 
 
He chuckled.  "Merry doesn't either.  She just keeps the bad dreams away." 
 
Merry beamed at him. 
 
God, it was so weird, looking at Merry and recognizing the sense of  
familiarity.  Scully was right, she looked a little like him.  More like Morgan.    
 
Dark mobile brows that shifted with each change of temper, the softness of  
childhood disguising Morgan's angular cheekbones--and his mouth and  
jawline. The changeable eyes they both shared.  He considered that,  
shivered again.   
 
Weird, to see your features, or elements you knew from the morning mirror,  
stamped on flesh and bone.  Weirder to see your lover's face in a child.   
This must be what people meant when they said children were like  
immortality.   
 
Very weird.  Weirder than the X files. 
 
Leaning forward, he kissed Merry's forehead.  "Go to sleep, Merry." 
 
"Okay."  She lay back down obediently.   
 
Morgan came up to the head of the bed, leaned down and pressed a kiss on  
Merry's temple.  "Sweet dreams, Merry." 
 
Merry beamed.  "I'm glad you came back." 
 
"Me, too." 
 
Mulder grinned again.  "Me, three." 
 
Merry giggled.  On the way out, after the light was out, except for the blue  
glow of the nightlight, he was pulling the door shut.  And heard a whirring  
sound, heard, "Bleeeh." 
 
He snickered all the way down the hallway to Morgan's room. 
___________________________ 
 
Bright morning, sunlight streaming through the windows to stripe the kitchen  
table.   
 
Scully sat holding a mug of coffee between her hands.  The files Morgan  
had brought sat on the table, to one side of her, and her expression was  
grim.  "You don't have any proof that any of those documents are factual."   
 
Mulder eyed his partner.   
 
Morgan laughed softly.  "No, that's true, we don't have proof that any of it is  
any more than some conspiracy group's paranoid fantasy.  But it's true,  
anyway.  I know it, you know it and Mulder knows it.  Even Merry knows it."   
And she shivered, leaned into Mulder's arm when he put it around her.  "It's  
why they brought her to him.  Probably, when I turned them down, someone  
made the decision that Mulder was the logical choice." 
 
Mulder wasn't sure he liked that.  Wasn't at all sure he liked having the  
Illuminati that involved with them.  But Skinner had said that they'd been  
some help while he and Morgan were on the run, had given warning more  
than once of the hounds closing in on them. 
 
He just wished he knew what their agenda was.   "Merry says Geoff poked  
her with a needle," he said, eyeing his partner curiously. 
 
Scully's mouth quirked and she raised the cup, regarding him over the rim.   
"Yeah, well, I thought her resemblance to you was pretty striking.  And Geoff  
recognized her resemblance to Morgan.  So I had him run a genetic scan." 
 
Mulder blinked.   "A genetic scan.  How forward of you."  And arched one  
eyebrow at her, amused in spite of himself. 
 
Scully's mouth only quirked more.  "Yeah, well, I thought it might be a good  
thing to have something closely resembling real evidence, Mulder." 
 
Mulder grinned, ducked to his coffee to hide it.  "Good." 
 
"You'll need samples from us," Morgan sighed, ran a fingertip around the  
rim of her cup.   
 
Geoff, standing near the counter with his arms folded, nodded at her.  "It  
would be a good idea to have current tests, should the question arise."  His  
voice was dry.  Not entirely happy.   "I don't like you dealing with these  
people, Morgan." 
 
Mulder glanced at him in agreement, shook his head fractionally at Morgan.   
"No, I don't either.  Not alone."   Her mouth tightened.  He recognized  
stubbornness when he saw it, felt his heart speed a little.  "Morgan, you  
made me a promise." 
 
Scully laughed softly.  "Hoist on your own petard, Mulder." 
 
He scowled at her, looked back to find Morgan smiling crookedly.   
 
"I'm beginning to worry, opposites are supposed to attract, and we're  
evidently far too similar for my comfort."  Morgan tilted her head, examining  
his face, her expression mischievous. 
 
"Heh," he told her.  "Maybe this is an essentially narcissistic relationship." 
 
"You're taller than I am and I have a smaller nose."  Morgan sipped her  
coffee as Scully choked on her own, grinned across the table.  "What do  
you think, Dana?" 
 
Scully recovered, arched one eyebrow.  "I think that there is some kind of  
divine justice at work here," she told Morgan drily and flicked Mulder a  
wicked grin.  "And I, for one, am enjoying it a lot." 
 
Mulder grimaced at her.  Merry came into the kitchen, Herbie--as she had  
christened the chameleon--on her arm.  "Bleeeh," she told them, making its  
tongue pop out, and giggled. 
 
Scully gave the puppet a jaundiced look.  "He could have done worse, I  
suppose," she muttered. 
 
"Too true.  He could have gotten her a drum."  Morgan offered him a grin.   
 
Merry came toward him and leaned against his leg, popping Herbie's tongue  
out at him.  He leaned forward and caught it in his mouth, making her shriek  
with laughter. 
 
"Now you're stuck, G-man."  Morgan sounded unperturbed, but Scully rolled  
her eyes. 
 
"I used to give you credit for at least having achieved emotional  
adolescence," Scully told him.  "Now, I'm not so sure." 
 
"Fox," Merry's fingers poked at his jaw and she giggled.  "Let go of Herbie's  
tongue!" 
 
He grinned and obeyed.   
 
"Gross," Merry nonetheless looked delighted.  "Fox, you got spit on Herbie's  
tongue!" 
 
"Shame on you," Morgan murmured, "There's a pet store down the road, I  
can get you your own supply, you don't have to take Herbie's." 
 
"Very funny."  Sighing, Mulder rose.  "I need to talk to Skinner.  And not at  
the office." 
 
"Invite him over here."  Morgan sipped her coffee.  "It won't look out of the  
ordinary, he's been here before for dinner, although not since his divorce.  It  
lacks the glamorous intrigue of meeting him in the parking garage, I'm sure,  
but it makes sense." 
 
Mulder grimaced at her and moved to the phone.  "Thanks for the advice."   
Dry tone, but it was good advice.  And made sense.  He just wasn't sure  
that he was comfortable even pretending to socialize with Skinner. 
 
But he punched in the numbers on the telephone anyway. 
__________________________________________ 
 
Sitting in the kitchen, Skinner closed the folders and gave Mulder a long  
look.  "This is what they brought her?" 
 
Mulder nodded, impassive expression.  A lot more impassive than Skinner  
believed he was feeling. 
 
Rising, he went to the door of the kitchen, looked across to the livingroom to  
see Merry playing with the chameleon, showing off to Scully.  Jesus, this  
was hard to believe.  "And you're convinced that this is true."  He kept his  
tone even. 
 
"Reasonably so."  Mulder shifted behind him.  "We're having some tests  
run." 
 
Skinner nodded, gazing at the child.  His gut told him that the material in the  
folders was factual.  Telekinetic powers--Christ, what a fucking mess.   
Morgan's child and Mulder's.  At least genetically.  Biologically.  Emotionally.   
God help us all, he thought.  "What are you going to do?" 
 
"I want to go to Belmont."  Mulder's tone was uncharacteristically tentative.   
"Check out the scene.  I called--the Detroit office has people out there, since  
the local police are still assuming Merry was abducted from the scene." 
 
Skinner nodded, his eyes still on Merry.  She stopped showing off for Scully  
and looked at him then, her eyes going wide and serious.  Scully followed  
her gaze, looked at him and arched a questioning brow.   
 
"Has she shown any signs of these--alleged abilities?"  He kept his voice  
low, pitched only for Mulder's ears. 
 
Mulder sighed audibly.  "No more than Morgan usually does."   
 
He turned at the flatness in Mulder's tone.  "What are you going to do?" 
 
Mulder looked away.  "I'm going to find out who wants her dead and stop  
them."  His jaw clenched. 
 
Of course.  Suicidally stubborn as always.   
 
Taking off his glasses, Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose.  "I'm going  
to authorize the trip," he told him evenly.  "Call it consulting on the case.   
You write a profile and get the hell back out of there.  Mulder, use your  
head--if you show up on that scene, don't you think they're going to wonder  
why?" 
 
That got a look, eyes almost amused, mouth quirking.  Mulder finally  
nodded.  "Yeah." 
 
"And you'd better do something about the custody arrangements, dammit.  I  
can't close my eyes to this forever."  As much as he might like to.  Jesus,  
the kid looked like both of them.   
 
And a small hand slipped into his, startling him badly.  Looking down,  
Skinner saw Merry looking up at him.  "Hello," she said shyly.  "Morgan says  
you're Fox's boss." 
 
One corner of his mouth lifted.  "Yeah, on occasion," he told her drily and  
looked up at Mulder, amusement warring with irritation.  "When he  
remembers it." 
 
Mulder looked no less startled than he felt, which was somehow comforting.   
Skinner aimed the child toward him, let go of her hand as she went and  
watched, both compassion and irritation roiling his gut as she clambered  
into Mulder's lap.   
 
What a fucking mess. 
 
"All right, I'll sign the paperwork tomorrow," he growled.  "And stay out of  
trouble.  I've got some contacts, I'll see what I can do about the legal issues  
for the time being."  He saw fear move behind Mulder's eyes and his gut  
clenched again.  "Discreetly," he added and sighed at Mulder's apparent  
relief. 
_________________________________ 
 

 
The afternoon was spent moving articles of furniture to Mulder's apartment  
and replenishing the cupboards, since the groceries Morgan bought had  
mysteriously disappeared. 
 
It should have been done earlier, Morgan considered, and sighed, leaning  
against the doorjamb of Mulder's second bedroom, watching Merry clutch  
the damned chameleon to her as she watched Mulder and Geoff put  
together what had once been Aaron's bed. 
 
The child looked eerily like both of them, Mulder had been right about that.   
Looked eerily like her long dead daughter.   She couldn't help feeling a  
flicker of resentment at that, or over Aarin's things, and couldn't help feeling  
guilt over the resentment.   
 
Merry was only a child.  She wasn't responsible for this situation.  She  
wasn't responsible for her birth, or for her life.  She wasn't a part of  
whomever had done this. 
 
But watching Merry charm Mulder was also very strange.  Part of her was  
amused, even touched.  And part of her was annoyed as hell. 
 
"There," Mulder set down the end of the bed with a sigh.  "How can a  bed  
this small be this much trouble?" 
 
Morgan felt her mouth quirk.  "Little people always are a lot of trouble,  
Mulder." 
 
He eyed her and grinned.  "I built it, you're making it." 
 
"Fair enough."  Going past him, she pinched his ribs gently.  "Out of the  
way, G-man, I know what I'm doing here.  You mostly sleep on the couch." 
 
Merry perked up at that.  "He sleeps on the couch now." 
 
Morgan managed to smile.  "That's because you're in his bed.  But now you  
have one of your own."  She eyed Merry warily, found her lips curving in  
return for the smile Merry gave her.  Really, she had to get past this. 
 
The Dalmatian sheets won Merry's approval completely, which thawed  
Morgan somewhat.   
 
Geoff went back home, leaving them to the amenities of dinner, fortunately  
takeout, since no one was much in the mood for cooking after gathering toys  
and books and bed and bringing them over. 
 
"Was this a living creature?" Merry demanded, holding chopsticks  
awkwardly. 
 
Mulder peered into the takeout carton.  "Nope." 
 
Morgan gave him a gimlet look.  "Merry, everything is a living creature."   
Mulder's expression was dismayed.  "Even rice is living.  The important  
thing is to be grateful for what has given its life for you." 
 
Merry stared at her.  "Fox says shrimp wasn't a living creature." 
 
Morgan flicked him a chiding look.  "Fox was confused.  Shrimp started out  
as a living creature in the sea." 
 
Mulder cleared his throat awkwardly.  "Well, by the time it gets into kung pau  
shrimp it's not a living creature." 
 
Morgan looked at him again.  "By the time it's done sitting in your refrigerator  
turning green, it's living again." 
 
Merry pursed her lips thoughtfully.  "Fox had a dried out pizza, but he  
wouldn't let me eat any.  He threw it away." 
 
"Fox is pretty smart."  Morgan smiled guilelessly at Mulder.  "Most of the  
time.  I did note, by the way, that you managed to go through groceries for  
two weeks in a matter of days." 
 
He grimaced at her, she saw his face slowly go scarlet.  "Uh, well, I sort of  
lost my temper.  I sort of threw them away." 
 
Startled, Morgan blinked.  "Oh." 
 
But Merry wasn't done yet on the subject of the shrimp.  "Mr. Langley says  
we shouldn't eat living creatures." 
 
"Well, since everything is a living creature, we'd have to starve."  Morgan  
poked at her own shrimp with her chopsticks.  "And I don't think we're  
supposed to starve." 
 
Merry considered that.  "Oh."  And regarded her shrimp doubtfully. 
 
"Thanks a bunch," Mulder muttered.  "Now she's going to subsist on Sugar  
Pops and Scully will shoot me." 
 
"She'd have to stand in line," Morgan told him sweetly, then thought better of  
it and leaned forward to kiss him.  He responded with a fair amount of  
enthusiasm and sat back with an annoyingly smug smile on his face. 
 
Merry watched this, frowned and slid off her chair, clambering up Mulder's  
knees to snuggle securely into the circle of his arms. 
 
This was her child, too, Morgan reminded herself, before her temper rose.   
She smiled sweetly and took another bite of her shrimp.  The worst thing  
was, the big dummy fell for it. 
 
Even she could feel the faintest touch of the child's gift in the air.  "Merry,"  
she pitched her voice low.  "Don't." 
 
Merry gazed at her, wide-eyed and Morgan gave a little yank to the power  
surrounding them.  Merry's eyes got wider.  Quite a bit wider.  
 
"Don't what?"  Mulder's brows drew together, puzzled.   
 
"Merry knows," Morgan took another bite.  "Don't you, Merry?" 
 
There was an audible gulp.  Merry slid down again, got her shrimp and  
returned to Mulder's knee.  Took a bite, gazing at Morgan warily.  "I'll be  
good." 
 
Morgan smiled.  "Good." 
 
Mulder's frown deepened.  "Despite any impression I may have given you  
two, I'm not quite the village idiot.  What the hell are you talking about?" 
 
Merry's expression was nervous and she ducked her head guiltily.  
 
"Nothing.  Nothing important."  Morgan smiled at her.  "Honestly.  Don't  
worry about it, Mulder." 
 
Mulder blinked.  Looked down at the top of the small head.  Frowned again.   
"Yeah.  I suppose it's one of those witch things." 
 
Morgan grinned.  "I told you Fox was smart, Merry." 
 
He actually stuck his tongue out at her. 
_____________________________ 
 
Mulder watched Morgan with Merry, aching for the signs of distance he saw  
there.  For the faint echo of grief he felt when she looked at the child.  It was  
too close, too new--she hadn't had time to grieve for Aarin, really, that much  
of what she'd said to him that night had been true.  Merry seemed to sense  
it, was almost diffident with Morgan. 
 
Sometimes a little challenging, as when she'd climbed into his lap at dinner. 
 
But they managed through the evening, although Morgan let him tuck Merry  
in and tell her a story without any assistance, staying back in the kitchen,  
ostensibly to clean up the remains of their dinner. 
 
Merry gave him a very serious look when the story was finished.  "Is Morgan  
going to live with us for always?" 
 
His mouth went dry at that, it touched too closely on his own fears.  "I think  
so," he told her cautiously.   
 
Merry looked as if she was beginning to find that a dubious notion.  "All  
right," she told him doubtfully and hugged Herbie and the horrible rabbit  
close.  Morgan's dolphin sat on the dresser, and he felt a pang that Merry  
hadn't accepted it yet. 
 
Bending, he brushed a kiss on her forehead, feeling both absurd and right  
about doing so.   
 
At least they'd missed colic and diapers--he wasn't entirely certain he could  
have coped with that.  In fact, he was almost certain he couldn't have coped;  
the very notion made him shudder. 
 
The kitchen was dark when he emerged from Merry's room.  Sighing, he  
went down the hall, checked the locks, turned off the light in the livingroom  
and made his way back to his bedroom.  Morgan's bed looked odd in here,  
and Morgan's dresser and chair ate up the extra space, but it was  
comfortable.   
 
Morgan was in bed, wearing a ratty Tasmanian Devil t-shirt and reading.   
 
"Your choice of night wear is so alluring," he told her, grinning.   
 
Looking over the top of her glasses, she smiled sweetly and adjusted them  
on her nose with her middle finger. 
 
He laughed and closed the bedroom door, came forward to sprawl across  
the bed on his back.  "This better be a good mattress," he muttered, "After  
heaving furniture around all afternoon." 
 
"You're getting so domestic, it's frightening."  Morgan pinched the inside of  
his thigh gently, leaned over him and laughed, that wicked go-to-hell laugh  
that had first charmed him, back when he was still leery as hell of her and  
her abilities.  And he was abruptly certain she wasn't wearing anything  
under the t-shirt. 
 
"I take back what I said about your nightwear," he muttered and reached up  
to pull her into his arms in a rush, making her gasp.  His fingers found bare  
skin under the shirt and he smiled, feeling everything else fall away but his  
relief and gladness that she was here.  That he hadn't fucked this up.  That  
she still trusted him. 
 
"You're so impulsive," Morgan murmured, beginning to unbutton his shirt.   
After a moment, she leaned down to kiss him, her mouth clean and still  
tasting faintly of toothpaste. 
 
He brought one hand up to cup her breast through the thin cotton.  "Minty  
fresh," he murmured, making her laugh. 
 
"It was a long week," she sighed in his ear and slid down, working on the  
buttons of his jeans. 
 
"You're getting maudlin again."  He grinned when she scowled at him,  
yelped when she pinched his ribs, and lifted his hips when she tugged at  
the denim.  "Watch out, I don't want to lose any body parts just because  
you're in a hurry." 
 
"I'll take very good care of your body parts," she told him, smirking.   
 
"Oh, yeah, you only love me for my body, I forgot."   
 
"No, I only love you for your brain.  I only want you for your body."   
 
The jeans and shorts slid down; he heard his keys jingle as they hit the  
floor.  "Tsk, tsk, not very neat, Dr. Grayson." 
 
Her eyebrows quirked at him.  "Nobody ever accused me of being neat, Dr.  
Mulder." 
 
"Well, I admire a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it."  He  
hissed as her mouth touched his skin, tilted his head back and closed his  
eyes, reaching blindly to touch her hair, silky against his palms.  Growled  
and leaned up to pull her back into his arms, until she straddled his lap. 
 
"Is that an oblique comment on my technique?" she asked, smiling wickedly. 
 
He kissed her again in answer, gasped into her mouth as she slid down on  
him.  She leaned away and smiled, mischief and tenderness combined. 
 
"God."  He hardly had the breath for more than that as she moved again.   
Reached down and grasped the hem of the t-shirt, pulling it off in one, not  
so smooth motion.   
 
Her skin was warm and satiny, except for the scars on her belly.  He had his  
own scars; pulling her close, he rolled over in a tangle of legs that made her  
squeak in surprise and laughter.   
 
"Two can play this game, Dr. Grayson," he told her, so close to laughter  
himself he couldn't believe it.  How in hell could he be this aroused and still  
laughing?  "You always surprise me, the way you can make me laugh, even  
in bed." 
 
Morgan's fingertips grazed each side of his face.  "You're doin' fine, G- 
man." 
 
Suddenly, desire outweighed laughter and he bent to kiss her, his body  
already moving in the familiar rhythm.  Sealing away grief and loss, healing  
whatever damage still existed from earlier in the week.   And binding them  
more closely together for what lay ahead. 
________________________________ 
 
The images in the dream woke Merry.  Sitting upright, holding Herbie and  
Michael tightly, she took in a shaky breath, trying to come back to the here  
and now.  The sensations from the dream followed her, her body felt  
strange, alien, *wrong*.  A small sob escaped her and she hugged Herbie  
tighter, glad that he snugged up against her chest, that the strangeness of  
weight there was gone, the sensitivity was gone.  That she could no longer  
feel air on her neck, that her hair hung down, tickling and warming her. 
 
That she didn't have breasts, although her mind jittered away from that  
realization, and from the good/bad feelings that came with the dream.  That  
came from being afraid that Fox's expression meant he was hurt.   
 
She wasn't stupid, she knew what grownups did.  Her pretend mommy and  
daddy hadn't done it, at least not with each other, but Katie's mommy and  
daddy were like Fox and Morgan.  They kissed and hugged and they did that  
sex thing after she and Katie and Katie's big brothers were in bed.  In their  
bedroom with the door closed. 
 
But she'd never *felt* them doing it, she only knew because she was smart  
and because her pretend mommy and daddy told her about everything.  She  
was supposed to be smart, even though she was a little kid.  They wanted  
her to be smart. 
 
But she wasn't supposed to have dreams like that, she thought and blinked  
hard, putting her thumb in her mouth.  She was just a little girl.  Trying to  
sort it out only made her tummy hurt, trying to figure out why things were  
good and bad and why she couldn't keep the tears from stinging her eyes. 
 
Sliding out of bed, she padded barefoot down the hall and paused at the  
closed door, taking in another shaky breath and then hiccoughing.   
 
The door was closed.  That meant that they wanted to be private.  Rubbing  
a fist in one eye, Merry considered that, trying to swallow past the lump in  
her throat.   She didn't want to make Morgan mad.  She really didn't.  And  
knowing what they had been doing might make Morgan mad. 
 
Morgan was her real mommy.  She wanted Morgan to like her, even though  
it was hard to get used to sharing Fox.  Turning back down the hallway, she  
went to the kitchen and turned on the light.   
 
Cookies sometimes helped when she felt bad.  Katie's mommy had always  
given them cookies and milk when they were unhappy or had something bad  
happen in school.   
 
Mouth quivering, Merry rubbed her eyes again.  Herbie and Michael waited  
in a chair while she climbed on the counter and got down a glass and some  
cookies.  The milk container was hard to manage, but she only spilled a  
little.   
 
Michael was too upset to talk to her much these days.  When she climbed  
on the chair and pulled Herbie and Michael into her lap, she tried, but he  
shut her out.  He was scared of the bad men, and all he wanted to do was  
sleep. 
 
The cookie wasn't as good as the ones Katie's mom made, but it was store  
bought.  Another sob escaped her as she put it down, with only one bite,  
and picked up the milk.  "It's not my fault," she told Herbie miserably.  "I  
didn't wanna, it just happened." 
 
But the strangeness persisted, as though she ought to be taller, bigger.   
And Fox had been naked in the dream, she didn't want to know about Fox  
that way.  This time, she had to put the milk down when the tears came.   
Hugging Herbie and Michael tight, she put her face into Michael's chest and  
just cried. 
____________________________________________ 
 
Morgan woke suddenly and sat up, ears tuned to listen for a child's cry,  
even after all this time.  She'd woken like this before, thinking she heard  
Aarin, only to feel the weight of grief in her chest as she realized that Aarin  
was dead. 
 
This time, she heard a stifled sob and gently eased out of Mulder's  
embrace.  Her robe lay across the foot of the bed; slipping into it, she tied  
the belt and opened the door very quietly, pulling it partly closed behind her. 
 
The kitchen light was on.  Merry sat at the table, sobbing into her deplorable  
rabbit, as Mulder referred to it.  
 
He really, Morgan thought distantly, had a thing about that rabbit; without  
hesitation, she went and knelt by the chair, stroking Merry's sleep tangled  
hair, her instincts melting away the sense of loss that Merry was in Aarin's  
place.  "Baby," she murmured and tilted Merry's face up, "Baby, what's the  
matter?" 
 
Merry's face screwed up.  "I didn't mean to, I didn't wanna, it just  
happened." 
 
Baffled, Morgan tested the atmosphere with her senses, found no trace of  
power used and shook her head.  "What, baby?"  Rising, she lifted Merry  
and sat down on the chair beside her, holding Merry against her shoulder.   
"What happened?" 
 
Merry sobbed into her shoulder.   
 
Using her fingers to comb out the tangles, Morgan stroked her hair, rocking  
her, murmuring soothing nonsense.  Soothing tone.  The familiarity of it  
soothed *her*, and something unknotted in her chest.  A kind of tenderness  
that belonged to Merry alone, that owed nothing to Aarin.  "Hush, baby, it's  
all right, there's nothing so bad that you can't tell me or Fox." 
 
Merry's face was wet and hot against her neck.  Morgan kept rocking her,  
felt the seduction of that small weight in her arms, in her lap.   This was her  
child, she told herself, allowing herself to marvel at it a little.  They had taken  
her daughter, they had taken Aarin, and they would have killed Merry, but  
instead, she was here and safe and they were, by God, going to keep her  
that way. 
 
A sniffle and Merry's arms tightened around her neck.  "You'll be mad at me.   
But I didn't mean it.  I didn't wanna." 
 
"Shhh," Morgan rocked her again.  "If you didn't mean it, it would be pretty  
unreasonable of me to be mad, wouldn't it?  I promise, I won't be mad."   
 
The child's hair was slightly damp from tears and sweat.  Morgan turned her  
head and pressed her cheek against it, inhaling the smell of healthy child,  
felt her heart turn over suddenly.  Smiling, she rubbed Merry's back.    
 
Merry had seduced her as thoroughly as she had Mulder, although with her,  
it had been inadvertant.  With Mulder, she suspected Merry had used a little  
more than winsome smiles, but she didn't blame her.  If she'd had Merry's  
assertiveness at Merry's age, she would have wound *her* father around  
her finger the same way.  And for better reason.  "Shhh, baby, it's all right, I  
won't be mad.  But you need to tell me what's the matter." 
 
At last, Merry leaned back a little, eyes wide and earnest, her face still wet  
with tears.  Her mouth trembled.  "It looked like you were hurting Fox," she  
confessed, a tremulous little voice that momentarily robbed the words of  
sense and meaning. 
 
Abruptly, the pieces fell into place.  Morgan could not prevent herself from  
blushing, but maintained enough composure to continue stroking Merry's  
hair.  "Did you see us?" 
 
Emphatic shake of the head and another tear ran down the side of Merry's  
small nose.  "No.  But I had a dream."  This time, her voice was shakier.  "I  
didn't mean to, honest, I didn't wanna."  Her voice rose slightly, not quite a  
wail.  "I didn't mean to be naughty." 
 
Mulder was going to be mortified, Morgan thought absently and held the  
child close again.  "A dream?  Oh, sweetheart, that wasn't naughty.  It's  
because you're so sensitive." 
 
A hiccough against her shoulder and Merry's arms went around her neck  
again.  "It was like I was you." 
 
Morgan blushed again.  Well, maybe it was because they were both  
sensitive, and God only knew, she'd let herself stay pretty open since  
coming out of the coma.  Paranoia had its price, she thought and hugged  
Merry,  but maybe this wasn't a good one to have to pay.   
 
"I need to shield better," she murmured and turned her face to kiss Merry's  
temple.  "And I'll teach you a little trick.  I wasn't hurting Fox, Merry, I would  
never hurt him.  I love him very, very much." 
 
A little stifled sob shook Merry's shoulders.  "Why did it look like you were  
hurting him?  I don't wanna see him like that, I'm not s'posed to, I'm just a  
little girl." 
 
"Shhh," Morgan rocked her again.  "I know, sweetheart, I've got something I  
can teach you to make sure that doesn't happen again.  But it's all right.   
When two grownups love each other--" 
 
Merry sat upright suddenly.  "I know about the sex thing," she told Morgan  
tearfully.  "But I'm not supposed to *know* about it." 
 
"I know."  A bubble of laughter wanted to escape Morgan, but she firmly  
quelled it.  Other parents just had their kids walk in on them during  
lovemaking.  Somehow, she thought that would be easier than this.  "But  
we'll make sure it doesn't happen this way again, sweetie.  Okay?" 
 
An anxious look, and Merry leaned forward against her, tightening her hold.   
"You aren't mad at me?" 
 
Morgan hugged back.  "No, sweetie, I'm not mad at you.  It wasn't your fault.   
We're both too sensitive to picking things up.  We'll have to practice some  
things to make sure what's in your mind is yours, and what's in my mind is  
mine."  Her child, came the voice from her undermind and she hugged  
harder, tears abruptly blurring her vision.  "Fox wouldn't be mad, either.  We  
know you didn't mean it.  The next time you get scared like this, baby, just  
come and get us, all right?  I don't want you to sit in the kitchen and be sad  
like this." 
 
Merry inhaled raggedly.  "I thought you'd be mad." 
 
"No, sweetie," Morgan sighed and looked up as Mulder appeared in the  
kitchen doorway, looking rumpled and bewildered. 
 
"What's going on?" he asked and came to sit in Merry's abandoned chair,  
moving Michael and Herbie onto the table itself.  "Midnight tea parties?" 
 
Merry looked at him sidelong and buried her face in Morgan's shoulder. 
 
Mulder's expression became more bewildered.  He arched a questioning  
eyebrow, and Morgan shook her head, hoping he wouldn't push it. 
 
Leaning back in the chair, he narrowed his eyes at Morgan for a moment,  
then shrugged.  "Merry, can I have one of your cookies?" 
 
"Uh huh."  Merry's voice was muffled. 
 
"Why don't you turn around and drink your milk," Morgan suggested softly.   
"Milk will help you get back to sleep."  She looked at Mulder.  "Merry had  
sort of a bad dream." 
 
Mulder's expression shifted to concern.  "Oh, Merry, you should have come  
in and told us." 
 
Merry turned around slowly in Morgan's lap, not quite looking at Mulder.   
Morgan smoothed the hair back from Merry's face tenderly and offered  
Mulder a reassuring smile. 
 
He didn't look entirely reassured, but she felt his relief that Merry trusted  
her.  It almost made her grin, but not quite. 
 
Merry took a long drink of milk and then looked at Mulder sidelong again.   
"Fox, are you hurt?"  Very small, scared voice. 
 
Mulder blinked.  "I'm fine, Merry.  See, no bruises, no bumps."  He held his  
arms up and stretched his legs out. 
 
Merry hiccoughed and leaned back on Morgan, finally looking at her father  
directly.  "Morgan wouldn't hurt you." 
 
Morgan saw the mischief surface in Mulder's eyes and gave him a severe  
look.  But he only winked at her.  "No, Merry, Morgan wouldn't hurt me.  And  
I wouldn't hurt Morgan." 
 
A deep sigh and Merry shifted on Morgan's lap to rest her head on Morgan's  
chest.  "And you love each other." 
 
Mulder's mouth quirked, he gave Morgan a quizzical look.  "Very much." 
 
Another sigh and Merry's thumb went back in her mouth.  Stroking her hair,  
Morgan leaned down.  "No more dreams tonight, sweetie, I promise.  And  
tomorrow, we'll practice that trick I told you.  Okay?" 
 
Merry nodded, her eyelids already at half mast.  Shifting, Morgan lifted her,  
shaking her head at Mulder when he rose to take her.  He followed them  
down the hall with the rabbit and Herbie and stood beside the bed as  
Morgan carefully tucked Merry back into bed and bent to kiss her forehead.  
 
"Sleep sweetly," Morgan murmured and closed her eyes, using her  
innersense to set wards of a sort. 
 
Merry's arms went around her neck for a brief, hard hug.  Tears made it  
hard to see for a moment; blinking hard, Morgan brought the world back into  
focus and leaned back to smile down at the child.  "No more bad dreams,"  
she promised and touched Merry's cheek one last time before getting up. 
 
Merry promptly rolled over on her side, curled around her toys, eyes sliding  
shut. 
 
Rising, Morgan took Mulder's hand and tugged him out into the hall, pulling  
the door partly closed. 
 
"Are you ready for a shock?" she asked, suddenly feeling mischievous. 
 
He looked back at the door, but let her pull him back toward their bedroom.   
"What kind of a shock?" he asked suspiciously. 
 
"Well, you know, that primal scene thing, that's supposed to warp you for  
life."  A little laugh escaped Morgan, despite her best intentions, and Mulder  
stopped dead in the middle of their bedroom, eyes widening.  She couldn't  
help it then and had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. 
 
He stared at her.  "Tell me I've forgotten everything I learned in Oxford and  
you don't mean what I think you mean." 
 
Morgan shook her head, unable to speak.  His expression was priceless.   
Parenthood, evidently, was going to put quite a crimp in Mulder's sexual  
style.  
 
He stood there for a moment, closed his eyes and dry scrubbed his face  
with both hands.  "She saw us." 
 
"Not exactly."  Morgan finally brought the giggles under control and took off  
her robe. 
 
"Not exactly?"  Mulder's expression was wary. 
 
"She, ah, sort of was linked to us.  To me."  It was upsetting, it was bound  
to be upsetting, but Merry had talked to her, had told her.  And she'd dealt  
with it.  So she was less upset than she might have been, although there  
was a faint residue of guilt for not taking better care about Merry's  
sensitivities--as well as her own. 
 
Mulder abruptly slid into bed.  "We're never having sex again," he muttered  
into the pillow and curled around her.  "At least not in this apartment." 
 
A case of the giggles loomed on the horizon.  Quelling it, Morgan rolled to  
face him.  "No, it's all right, I know what to do.  She dreamt it, Mulder, she  
didn't do it on purpose.  She's very sensitive." 
 
He groaned and buried his face in the crook between her neck and  
shoulder.  "Parenthood is going to kill me." 
 
"No."  A snicker escaped her.  "You're just going to wish it would." 
____________________________________________ 
 
Mulder woke before the alarm went off.  The faintest prickle of concern  
drove him out of bed.  Pausing only to peer in at Merry, he padded down the  
hall to the kitchen, where he found Morgan standing by the counter,  
watching the coffee brew.  
 
Coming up behind her, he put his arms around her and savored the warmth  
and solidity of what he held.  "Mornin'." 
 
Her head leaned back against his chest.  "'Fraid so," she sighed and ran  
delicate fingertips up his forearms, making him shiver, before turning in his  
arms and standing on tiptoe to kiss him good morning. 
 
"Mm," he brushed her cheek with the stubbled beard on his.  "I have  
morning mouth." 
 
She made a sound like laughter.  "Me, too.  Merry still asleep?" 
 
"Yeah."  His arms tightened again.  "You're--you're okay with her?" 
 
She gave him a wise look, a faint, enigmatic smile.  "I'm okay with her.  I  
should think last night would reassure you." 
 
But he wondered.  "I know she's a little--she tests people, babe."  Although  
Merry's distress had been quite real.  He didn't think otherwise. 
 
"All kids do," she told him and put her face into his neck.  "Mm, I missed  
you." 
 
Her hair was soft and tangled against his fingers.  "Me, too," he confessed.   
"We're both getting maudlin.  I think that Skinner thinks I need psychiatric  
help.  Well, he generally does, just more so now than usually." 
 
Her lips curved against his skin.  "We'll be all right, Fox.  Merry and I--we  
just have to get used to each other.  But we made a good start last night."   
She laughed faintly, breath warming his skin.  "She really is a cross  
between the two of us, isn't she?  We'll be just fine." 
 
He hoped so.  The wariness in her eyes when she'd watched Merry  
yesterday had hurt, the more so because she had lost Aarin.  *They* had  
lost Aarin.  "I know."  A whisper.  "I wish it didn't hurt you.  I wish I didn't  
have to put you in a position that hurt you." 
 
Her lips curved against his throat.  "Well, it isn't entirely your fault.  I could  
have told you that the whips and chains were out." 
 
Mulder blinked, slid his hands down and pinched her hip.  "Don't be a smart  
ass when I'm talking seriously."  
 
Her arms tightened.  "Okay.  You aren't putting me in a position to hurt me."   
She leaned back, gave him a very serious look.  "It hurts a little.  It hurts you  
a little, I can feel it sometimes.  But she's very much herself, not a  
replacement.  We'll all have to find our way.  She's just a little girl, it's hard to  
remember that when she sounds so adult, but she needs us." 
 
Swallowing hard, he nodded, let go of her when she moved to the cupboard.   
Reaching up, she got two cups, poured coffee into both and brought him  
one.  "So, you threw all the groceries away, huh?" 
 
Blushing, he tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.  "Did I, ah, forget  
to mention that sometimes I have a terrible temper?" 
 
One of her arms slid around his waist, hugged lightly.  "Oh, I knew that  
already."  Gentle humor.  "I'm a witch, remember?"   She let go of him again,  
started out of the kitchen.  "I'm going to take a shower.  Care to join me?" 
 
He grinned.   "Devious woman.  You only made coffee to wake me up."  And  
got an innocent look in reply. 
_________________________________________________ 
 
Sitting on the edge of the tub, Morgan sipped cold coffee and watched  
Mulder shave.  Weirdly domestic, she told herself and shook her head, got  
up and took his coffee cup, just as cold as hers.   
 
Glancing back at her in the mirror, Mulder gave her a wickedly complacent  
smile.  "Nice wake up call.  Sure you don't want to marry me?" 
 
"We already have a child," she told him drily.  "And community property's a  
pain in the ass." 
 
"Cynic." 
 
She pinched his backside, snickered at the yelp, and went out, down the  
hallway to the bedroom.  Merry, clearly, had gotten up.  Back down the  
hallway to find Merry in the livingroom, thumb in mouth, Herbie and the  
rabbit in her lap, watching Animaniacs. 
 
Morgan paused, got a wary look, as if Merry feared that the night's amnesty  
had passed.  Thoughtfully, she continued on into the kitchen to dump out  
cold coffee and fill the cups with hot.  Walked back and smiled  
encouragingly at Merry.  "Want to help me make some breakfast?" 
 
That got an interested gaze and a tentative smile.  "What are we going to  
make?" 
 
"What do you think Fox would like?"  A careful ploy, since she sensed  
Merry's--maybe possessiveness of Mulder was the only way to describe it. 
 
Merry thought about that for a moment.  "Pancakes." 
 
Morgan smiled at her.  "Sounds great.  I'll be right back." 
 
She found Mulder in white shirt and shorts,  combing his hair; he grinned  
when she handed him the coffee cup.   
 
"Thanks, Harriet.  But you're starting to scare me." 
 
"You haven't seen anything yet, Ozzie.  I hope you like being spanked."   
Morgan winked at his startled expression and went back to find Merry in the  
doorway of the kitchen.  "Ready?" 
 
Merry nodded at her, offering a tentative smile.  Really, that nightshirt had  
seen better days, the child definitely needed more clothes.   
 
"All right, then.  It's a good thing we went to the grocery store yesterday, or  
we wouldn't be able to do this."  Morgan pulled a chair over to the counter  
and coaxed Merry into leaving Herbie and the rabbit on the table. 
 
It only took a few moments; she set Merry to stirring the ingredients and  
started heating up a pan.  Mulder came out, holding his coffee cup in one  
hand and his suit jacket in the other; his tie hung loosely around his neck  
and he gave them both a curious look.  "What's cooking?" 
 
"Pancakes," Merry informed him gleefully.  "And we're making them for you." 
 
He arched an eyebrow at Morgan.  "Breakfast, too.  This is really getting  
spooky." 
 
"Spooks for the Spook," Morgan told him sweetly and guided Merry to pour  
the batter into four more or less even circles.   
 
"Heh, heh."  He filled his cup again and eyed the pan.  "Pancakes.  Real  
honest to god pancakes, or biscuit mix pancakes?" 
 
"Real honest to god pancakes."  Morgan slanted him a look.  "I thought you  
might need all the speed you can get today.  Biscuit mix pancakes are like  
lead." 
 
"Ah," he nodded sagely, "A pancake specialist, I see." 
 
"I helped."  Merry gave him a winsome smile, eyeing Morgan carefully. 
 
No sense of power used, Morgan noted and smiled approvingly at the child,  
getting a faint smile in return.   
 
"So, what are you two going to do today while I'm flying the friendly skies of  
whatever airline the Bureau thinks is cheapest?"  Mulder waggled his  
eyebrows at them. 
 
"Redecorating," Morgan told him unkindly and laughed when his eyes  
widened.  "No, just Merry's room, my heart, and maybe our bedroom." 
 
He suddenly gave her a beatific smile.  "Leave my computer alone." 
 
"Heh, heh."  Sliding the spatula under one of the pancakes, she considered,  
then flipped it.  Flipped the other three to admiring looks from both Merry  
and Mulder. 
 
"Hey"  Merry leaned a little too close and Morgan steadied her.  "That's neat,  
Morgan.  Can I do it?" 
 
"Morgan's a pancake specialist," Mulder told her firmly, "And little kids  
sometimes get burned when they try it." 
 
Morgan shook her head, laughing softly.  "I'll teach you when you're a little  
bigger, Merry.  It's not so hard, you just have to be careful.  Mulder, how  
about you get some plates out, instead of standing there looking decorative." 
 
"I wasn't aware I was decorative," he told her, rolling his eyes, but put the  
cup on the table and got clean plates and silverware.  And, after a pause  
and thoughtful glance at the table, got out glasses and juice as well. 
 
"We'll civilize you yet, G-man." Morgan intoned.  "You get the first stack,  
since you have to leave pretty soon."   
 
"Yes, ma'am," he told her peaceably and sat down at the table with his  
coffee. 
 
The second set cooked quickly, too; Merry cadged some of Mulder's while  
she was waiting.  Some of her father's, Morgan thought, but it didn't sting,  
didn't frighten this morning.  It just seemed odd.  No, more than odd-- 
surreal.  But Merry was her flesh and blood, too, no matter how she'd come  
to be.  "Somewhere," she said aloud, sitting down at the table and sipping at  
her own coffee, "I have some pancake molds." 
 
Mulder blinked at her, the fork halfway to his mouth.  "Pancake molds?" 
 
Morgan grinned.  "Yeah, you know, dinosaurs and teddy bears." 
 
Dinosaurs.  He could live with dinosaurs, but teddy bears?  "Oh, great.  My  
kitchen is going to be invaded by cuteness." 
 
"It already has been."  Morgan tilted a meaningful look at Merry, currently  
absorbed in drowning her pancakes in syrup. 
 
"Heh, heh."  He took the bite, chewed and eyed her reproachfully.  "Anything  
but teddy bears." 
 
"Well, I might just have the dinosaur."  Her throat felt tight suddenly and she  
looked away, out the window.  "Beautiful day." 
 
Mulder spared it a glance.  "Yeah.  I gotta run, get the travel shit--uh, travel  
stuff taken care of."  A line of red appeared along each cheekbone and he  
glanced at Merry, relieved to see she wasn't paying attention. 
 
Unable to help herself, Morgan snickered, put her fingers over her mouth to  
keep it in.  Mulder gave her another reproachful look, took another sip of  
coffee on the way out of his chair and began fumbling with his tie as he  
walked into the living room. 
 
Sighing, Morgan rose and picked up the jacket still hanging on the back of  
his chair and walked after him. 
 
He stuffed files and papers into his briefcase and gave her a manic grin.   
"I'm gonna swing by to see the guys, get them to make copies of this." 
 
Sobered, she nodded.  "Tell them to be careful.  Very careful." 
 
Snapping the briefcase shut, he nodded, turned toward her and pulled her  
close.  Closing her eyes, she breathed in his scent, sighed and opened her  
eyes again.  "Your tie's crooked."  Reaching up, she straightened it. 
 
"God, this is really getting scary, Harriet."  He kissed her anyway, grinned  
and took the jacket from her to pull it on.  "I'm going to talk to Skinner about  
keeping an eye on the place, make sure you two are all right." 
 
"How's he going to do that, G-man?  This isn't anything we want drawn to  
official notice."  But she didn't doubt that Walter Skinner could do just that,  
and covertly, if he thought it wise.   "Although I'm sure that the Illuminati are  
already watching.  They brought her to you." 
 
He didn't like that thought.  Hadn't liked it in New York either, and a faint line  
appeared between his brows to prove it.  "Yeah.  Well, I'd feel better  
anyway." 
 
Morgan nodded, accepted and gave another kiss goodbye.  "You're coming  
back to pack, I take it." 
 
"That's why I love you, you're brilliant."  He grinned and bent to get a sticky  
hug from Merry, who had silently appeared beside them.  "Be good for  
Morgan, Merry.  No tricks, you hear." 
 
Merry nodded solemnly and put her thumb in her mouth as Mulder headed  
for the door.  Morgan touched the child's hair lightly, stroking it as the door  
closed.   "Well, let's finish our breakfast, get the kitchen cleaned up, get  
dressed--would you like to go shopping with me today?" 
 
Merry's face tilted up; after a few moments, the thumb came out.  "For  
redecorating?" 
 
Morgan chuckled and smoothed the tousled hair again.  "Both of us.  I need  
clothes that fit, and you need more clothes and maybe we could find a few  
surprises for Fox, what do you think?" 
 
Merry smiled.  "Can I pick one out for Fox?" 
 
"Absolutely."  Morgan grinned.  "You can pick out a tie, how about that?" 
 
Pleased, Merry let herself be led back to the table. 
____________________________________________________ 
 
"I suppose there's no getting out of this," Scully sighed, eyeing the airline  
ticket he'd handed her.  "Detroit.  Jesus, why do we always end up in the  
middle of nowhere, Mulder." 
 
"Murphy's Law, Scully."  Mulder gathered up the material that had been  
faxed from the Detroit Bureau office and put it carefully in his briefcase.   
"Okay.  I'll pick you up about three, okay?" 
 
"Yeah."  Scully sighed, tapped her chin with the ticket.  "How's Morgan  
taking all this, Mulder?  I thought she seemed a little subdued." 
 
He gave her an uneasy look. It touched too closely on his own worries.   
"Yeah.  She says she's fine, it's just going to take some time for the two of  
them to get used to each other." 
 
"No doubt."  Scully's mouth quirked at him.  "I have to tell you, Mulder, your  
life is getting stranger than any X file.  You're getting downright domestic." 
 
"No, I'm not."  He mock-scowled at her. 
 
"Then why is there food on your jacket?" she asked, eyes suddenly bright  
with mischief." 
 
He looked down, rolled his eyes, and peeled off the bit of pancake that had  
adhered to his lapel.  "Merry." 
 
"Yeah.  If I find any of her toys in your glove compartment, I'm going to lose  
my lunch."  But Scully grinned anyway. 
 
Shifting uneasily, he eyed her.  "Well, there's one of those child safety  
things in the back now.  Morgan insisted." 
 
"Oh, Jesus."  Scully began to laugh.  "A child seat.  Oh, God, wait 'til the  
guys in VCS hear about this." 
 
"Scully."  He looked at her, waiting patiently until her laughter ebbed.  "I  
know you're joking, but please remember--" 
 
"I know, I know, Mulder.  Allow me my fantasies."  She sobered.  "I know, no  
one knows, no one *can* know.  At least, not now.  Have you considered  
what's going to happen?  How you're going to handle this?  You've got her  
now, Mulder, but it's illegal as hell.  And if anyone does get wind of it,  
beyond Skinner, they can not only rake you over the coals, they can take  
Merry and put her in foster care." 
 
His stomach hurt suddenly.  "I know."  Flat tone.  "I'll deal with it when I  
need to, Scully.  But nobody's taking her."  Uncompromising tone. 
 
Her mouth flattened out briefly before she sighed.  "I'm with you, Mulder.   
And maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to dig up some of Morgan's more  
influential friends, along with yours." 
 
"I don't have any influential friends anymore," he told her, and it was hard to  
disguise the bitterness he felt over that.  "Matheson sure as hell won't talk to  
me anymore." 
 
"He might.  If he knew what it was about." 
 
"Stay out of it, Scully."  Scowling for real now, he lifted the briefcase.  "I'm  
going to go home and pack, okay?  I'll see you at three."  Managed a faint  
smile to atone for the scowl, for his temper before he went through the door. 
_________________________________ 
 
"Will Fox like his presents?"  Merry asked, and Morgan gave her a push on  
the swing.   
 
"I think he'll like them a lot.  Especially the pictures."   During their shopping  
trip, she'd gotten one of those new Polaroid cameras, instant pictures,  
instant gratification.  As much as she loathed having her picture taken,  
she'd stopped by and had Meg take several shots of her and Merry together,  
as well as some solos.   
 
She'd also gotten Merry a number of practical outfits.  And, seeing the  
wistful gaze fixed on the rack, she'd gotten her a pretty pink dress with  
Dalmatians on it, Dalmatian tights, a pretty head band, and a pair of Mary  
Janes.  Revolting, but Merry was in seventh heaven about it. 
 
It was partly that delirium that had led to this.  The park across from  
Mulder's building was surprisingly empty, but then it was September.  It  
might have been lunacy to bring Merry here, but she'd extended her senses  
carefully.  And Merry--God, Merry had assured her there were no bad men  
here. 
 
And if anyone noticed a child out of school, it would be easy to say that she  
had just moved in, that Merry wasn't enrolled yet.  They couldn't keep Merry  
in a cage; she didn't think that had occured to Mulder yet.   
 
Merry, free of the apartment, settled down, more or less, enjoying the  
warmth and sun and playground equipment. 
 
"Higher," Merry begged. 
 
"Okay, hold on tight."  Morgan pushed again, smiling.  She was a fearless  
little devil.  Fox Mulder's contribution, like her jaw and the shape of her  
mouth.  And that brilliance, making connections in the dark without ever  
knowing what had led to them.   
 
Merry giggled gleefully.  "Higher, Morgan, higher." 
 
Obedient, Morgan pushed, careful each time that Merry was holding to the  
chains, small hands tight around them.   And smiled, genuinely relaxed with  
the child for the first time. 
 
Right up until the moment that a hand closed around her upper arm, steely  
grip, and yanked her around face to face with a thoroughly enraged Mulder. 
 
"Goddammit, are you fucking crazy?" he hissed and took a long stride  
forward, catching the swing and Merry in one movement, pulling Merry free  
in another, and striding past her without looking at her. 
 
Her arm hurt.  More bruises.  God, was this how he was?  Four months on  
the run and she'd never seen this side of him.  Never.  "We can't keep her  
in a cage, Mulder," she hissed back and he stopped, turned to look at her.   
"She's a child, you can't keep her in that apartment like a damned hamster." 
 
"Someone's already tried to kill her once, Morgan.  Is that what you want?"   
His eyes blazed at her, fury and fear at once. 
 
Merry hiccoughed on a sob.  "Who's Aarin?" 
 
And Morgan tasted the edge of Mulder's thoughts.  She felt the blood drain  
from her face.  "You bastard!"  But it came out a whisper. 
 
Mulder's color fled just as swiftly.  "Morgan, God, I'm sorry."  He reached  
back for her, took a step forward. 
 
"Don't touch me," she told him faintly and sidestepped.  The pain of loss  
renewed made her chest hurt, made it hard to breathe.  "Don't touch me,  
how could you even think--" 
 
"I'm sorry," This time he did touch her, pulled her close when she was too  
shaken to fight him.  "I'm sorry, I don't know what you--I don't know what  
you felt, but God, I didn't mean that you wanted Merry--"  And he stopped,  
swallowed hard. 
 
Merry was crying.  Morgan felt tears on her own face.  "Don't ever throw  
Aarin at me again," she whispered. 
 
"I didn't.  I didn't mean to."  He pressed his face against her hair.  "Come on,  
let's get her back inside.  Please, Morgan, come on." 
 
After another frozen moment, Morgan let him tug her along, his arm still  
around her.  She couldn't think past the pain right now. 
 
Merry sobbed again.  
 
"It's all right, Merry."  Her voice was automatic.  *She* was on automatic,  
checking the street for traffic, walking beside him into the building, going up  
in the elevator, even back into the apartment. 
 
Then she shoved his arm away, went to stand with her arms wrapped tight  
around her, staring out the window. 
 
"Who's Aarin?" Merry asked tearfully. 
 
"Aarin--Aarin was your little brother," Mulder told her shakily.  "He died,  
Merry." 
 
Little brother, Morgan thought crazily and rested her forehead on the glass.   
Oh, God, she supposed it was true.   And felt Mulder's hands rest lightly,  
tentatively on her waist.  "Don't," she whispered and closed her eyes. 
 
"Morgan."  Soft voice, misery underlying it.  "Morgan, I love you, my damned  
temper--I saw you both out there and I was scared." 
 
She let him pull her close.  Weakness to love him.  Weakness to want him.   
And she wasn't sure how to scour it out of her soul.  "You thought I might  
take chances with Merry because I resented her?" 
 
"No."  His voice strengthened.  "Never that, babe, you've got to believe me.   
Come on, you know better than that." 
 
"Then what?"  She licked her lips, tasted salt.  Couldn't make out the  
shapes on the street below.  "What, Mulder?" 
 
Mulder held her close.  She could feel him trembling and felt an unkind  
pleasure in it.  Regretted it instantly.    
 
"I was thinking about Aarin.  That it would kill me to lose you and Merry."   
His mouth brushed her temple and she felt something wet touch her skin.   
Great.  They were both in tears now.  "Morgan, I can't lose you.  Either of  
you." 
 
"It was safe."  She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat.  "I knew.   
Merry knew." 
 
"It was safe now.  But we don't know who might be watching.  The watchers  
might be safe enough--unless they pass on what they've seen."  His arms  
tightened.  "I don't think they'd stop at Merry this time.  I *can't* lose  
anybody else, Morgan.  I'm selfish, I'm sorry." 
 
Morgan turned into his arms, rested her cheek against his shirt.  "Don't do  
that again."  Faintly.  "Don't grab me like that, don't hurt me like that." 
 
Mulder went very still.  Took in a shaky breath.  "I was just so scared.  You  
couldn't protect yourself last time. I don't--I can't risk either of you.  But I   
won't grab you again,  I promise.  And if I break that promise, you can turn  
me into a toad." 
 
"Your feet are too big," she murmured and slid her arms around him.  "You'd  
make a terrible toad." 
 
A shaky laugh and he rested his chin on the top of her head.  "Yeah, I  
forgot." 
 
There was a small, stifled sob from behind him. 
 
Oh, God, Merry.  She pulled back from him, even as he let go of her and  
turned. 
 
Merry was curled up in the armchair, still crying.   They went to her, knelt in  
front of the chair jointly. 
 
"Merry, it's all right, sometimes grownups get mad at each other."  Morgan  
tried to smile. 
 
"Why is Aarin dead?  He makes a picture in your head, and it hurts me."   
Merry took in a ragged breath and hiccoughed again.   
 
"Some bad men killed him."  Mulder's voice was soft.  He pulled Merry onto  
his knee.  "They took him away from us and killed him.  When I saw you and  
Morgan outside, I got scared.  Sometimes when I'm scared, I get angry,  
Merry.  But I'm not really angry." 
 
"Why did they kill him?"  Merry wiped her face on one sleeve, gave Morgan  
a tragic look." 
 
"Because--because there are people that are afraid and sick inside," Morgan  
told her and touched a tear wet cheek.  "Afraid of losing control.  Afraid  
someone will find their secrets and tell them.  That makes them want to  
control other people, or hurt them.  They wanted to control me.  Just like  
they wanted to control you, Merry.  And when they can't, they hurt people.   
Or kill them."  Oh, it hurt to tell this to a child. 
 
"Because they're afraid," Mulder repeated and closed his eyes briefly.   
"Because they'd rather hurt or kill to keep those secrets." 
 
"Like the people at the testing place?"  Merry tilted her head toward him.   
"The ones who poked with needles?" 
 
Morgan felt that place when the words came out, felt Merry's testing place  
and her own, felt fear and anger like a stone in her chest, memories  
bubbling up from nowhere, out of the dark.  She slid backward, holding up  
her hands to ward them off.  "Oh, God, the testing place.": 
 
Mulder looked at her, ashen.  "What?" 
 
"I made their machines go crazy," Merry told him earnestly.  "I didn't do what  
they wanted, Fox." 
 
Shaking--cold table beneath her, sharp things in her arms, fear making her  
bladder heavy--images long buried emerged and Morgan found herself,  
hands over her mouth, sitting on the floor and shaking.  Managed to stop, to  
gradually bring it under control.  "I didn't either, Merry." 
 
Merry's eyes were wide.  Merry slid off Mulder's knee and came to her.  "It's  
all right, Morgan," Queerly adult, "It's all right.  They don't take you  
anymore." 
 
But what had Stoddard wanted, before she'd blown up his car, but to take  
her back to the testing place?  Still, Merry shouldn't comfort her--it wasn't  
right.  So she gathered the little girl up and held her.  "You either, Merry."  In  
a whisper.  And rocked Merry in her arms, while Mulder stared, white to his  
lips.   
 
"What testing place?" 
 
Morgan closed her eyes again, letting the images from the back flow as they  
would, letting Merry's images touch her mind, images that were too similar  
to hers.  Terrifying.  Taking comfort in the small warmth she held against  
her.  "A lab.  Some kind of lab.  Probably a different place than mine." 
 
Merry leaned against her, small arms around her neck. 
 
"Yours?"  Mulder's voice wasn't much more than a whisper.  "What did they  
do?" 
 
Merry turned to look at him, her expression solemn.  "They wanted me to  
move things with my mind.  They wanted me to tell them things.  But they  
hurt me, I was mad.  So I just made their machines act funny." 
 
"I'm not sure I even did that."  Morgan smoothed Merry's hair.  "That was  
veyr brave, Merry.  And very smart." 
 
Mulder stared at them.  Swallowed hard and rose.  "Jesus." 
 
"Jesus had nothing to do with it."  Morgan heard her voice tremble, brought  
it under control.  "Believe me." 
 
He was kneeling beside them both suddenly, his arms around both of them.   
Not saying anything, just holding them both tightly. 
 
"I won't let them take me away."  Merry's voice was troubled.  "I won't let  
them, Fox.  I know how to hide from them.  Don't be scared." 
 
"Right."  He took in a ragged breath, leaned back with a pale imitation of a  
smile.  "Right." 
 
Morgan managed one of her own.  "Don't be scared," she echoed and  
touched his cheek; he turned his face into her hand, kissed the palm. 
 
Merry, with a child's resilience, gasped.  "Fox, we got you some presents!   
Oh, Morgan, we have to give him his presents before he leaves!" 
 
"Absolutely."  Morgan agreed, glad of the distraction.   Giving her a quizzical  
look, Mulder rose again, extended a hand to help her to her feet.  "Merry,  
why don't you go and get them.  Fox, sit down and close your eyes." 
 
Another quizzical look, but this time his smile was genuine.  "Presents?"  He  
moved back toward the chair and perched on the arm.  "Hey, this is better  
than Christmas." 
 
"Presents," she agreed.  Merry scampered, Morgan heard her feet, light and  
quick, as she ran down the hall.  Heard giggles and the bag rustling as she  
ran back. 
 
"Can I give him mine first?" Merry asked, in a loud stage whisper. 
 
Morgan nodded, sank down on the coffee table.  Merry extracted the narrow,   
white box from the bag and giggled again, carefully placed it on Mulder's  
outstretched palms.  "Open your eyes, Fox," Merry told him. 
 
Mulder's eyes widened.  "A box, just what I've always wanted."   
 
Morgan rolled her eyes.  "Open it, G-Man." 
 
He opened it, eyes widening for real this time.  His mouth quirked, flattened  
out and quirked again.  Then, avoiding her gaze, he lifted out the  
Animaniacs tie and held it against his shirt.  "What do you think?  Does it go  
with this suit?" 
 
Morgan grinned.  "Try it with the grey one.   Merry picked it out herself." 
 
He eyed her, mouth twitching.  "I'll have to pack the grey suit so I can wear it  
tomorrow." 
 
"Definitely." 
 
"Close your eyes again," Merry told him impatiently.  "There's more." 
 
Mulder gave Morgan another look, just short of a grin and closed his eyes  
again.  Merry reached back into the bag and pulled out the card with the  
snapshots.  The outside of the envelope said, in passable cursive, Fox  
William Mulder. 
 
When advised to open his eyes, he did, grinned and ruffled Merry's hair,  
leaned back to carefully open the card, which Merry had sealed.  "Don't  
want to tear the envelope," he told her seriously and slid his finger under the  
flap.  Pulled the card out and opened it.  His expression changed as he read  
what Merry had written and when he looked up, his eyes were a little too  
bright.  "I'm glad, too, Merry."  His voice was a little hoarse, he took the  
snapshots and looked at each, smiling when he looked back up at Morgan.     
 
Morgan let that smile wall away the horrors that kept wanting to escape from  
the darkness that had hidden them for so many years.     
 
Looking back down at the snapshots, Mulder shook his head, still smiling.  "I  
didn't even realize, I don't have any pictures of you, Harriet." 
 
Morgan arched one eyebrow.  "Rest easy, Ozzie, Merry wanted enough so  
that you didn't forget what you had to come home to.  You're going to have  
to get one of those awful books people use to bore other people with  
pictures of their grandchildren." 
 
Mulder grinned, blinked a few times.  "Yeah, I can bore Scully." 
 
"And probably will," she told him drily.  "I actually started packing for you, if  
you can credit that.  Just the basics, don't give me that look." 
 
He eyed her and a wicked smile slowly spread across his face.  "Merry, how  
would you like to play on the computer." 
 
"Okay."  Merry bounced up again, clearly delighted.  "Like at Mr. Langley's?" 
 
"It's not Mr. Langley's, it's Mr. Langley's, Mr. Byers', and Mr. Frohicke's," he  
corrected.  "But yeah, kind of." 
 
"This better be G-rated."  Morgan gave him a meaningful look and got an  
offended look back. 
 
"I'm not a complete idiot," he told her and went over to the computer.  Merry  
followed, climbed into the chair and waited patiently. 
 
Morgan's cheer faded, watching them.  Turning, she went down the hall to  
the bedroom and went to the window, staring outside at the street again.   
Things moved in the back of her mind, things long buried.  The smell of  
antiseptic.  The sharp pain of injection.  Stickiness in her hair, on her skin.   
 
Electrode patches, God. 
 
Faces above her, vague blurs.  White coats.  White everywhere.  Cold and  
sterile and terrifying.  Voices that boomed in the echoing white space.   
Telling her what she was supposed to do.  Her stomach knotted up tight, a  
pain just under her ribcage.  Sweat trickled down between her breasts, the  
here and now.   
 
The testing place.  She'd called it that in the deeps of the night, waking in  
terror from the dreams.  The dreams that were memories.   And Merry's  
were different, no less frightening.  Not such an expanse of white sterile  
cold.  But no less chilling for all that.  And the hell of it was, the only thing  
that told her the difference between her memories and Merry's was the  
bright taste of defiance and resentment in Merry's.   
 
Merry had been braver.  Smarter.  And, despite everything, she took comfort  
in that.  Despite being afraid.  She shivered suddenly, still feeling that  
ancient chill.  And warm arms went around her. 
 
"The kid's occupied," Mulder murmured, but his tone was cautious  
underneath the lightness. 
 
Morgan chuckled softly.  "I suppose you have plans, then?  My God, don't  
you ever get enough?  By conservative count, you should be worn out."   
Tilting her head back, she leaned back into the comfort of that warmth. 
 
"Well, actually, no, I don't get enough of you."  Mulder tightened his arms,  
rubbed his chin against her hair.  "Are you okay?" 
 
Morgan took a deep breath, shivered again.  "I am now." 
 
"You wanna talk it about it?" 
 
She almost smiled.  "You do." 
 
He sighed.  "Yeah, guilty as charged." 
 
"I don't remember much, just sensation, images, being afraid.  I'd wake up  
in the doctor's office and wouldn't remember how I'd gone to sleep."  She  
shivered again.  "And I had nightmares about it."   
 
"Merry doesn't seem to."  His chin brushed her hair.   
 
"Merry is altogether braver, tougher, and lot sneakier than I was."  Morgan  
grinned, but it faded quickly.  "I was afraid all the time, Fox."  Brief mordant  
grin up at him.  "Not unlike now." 
 
"Hey, you do okay." 
 
She snorted.  "Oh, yeah, but not on purpose." 
 
"I doubt that." He hugged her tight.  "Well, if I'm not gonna get lucky, wanna  
help me finish packing?" 
 
"Who said you weren't gonna get lucky, G-man?"  She turned in his arms  
and tugged his tie, tilting a wicked look upward. 
 
"I knew it was my lucky day," he murmured and she pushed him toward the  
bed.  "And you're even wearing a dress." 
 
"All for you, Ozzie."  
_____________________________________ 
 
Left to their own devices after Mulder had left, Morgan played a lengthy  
game of Scrabble with Merry--the only game Mulder had in his apartment  
and so old that the original box had been replaced by some kind of gift box  
that was fast falling apart at the seams. 
 
Merry was a frighteningly good opponent, with a grasp of strategy that many  
adults would envy.  She laughed in delight when she'd managed a triple  
word score using "fox". 
 
Unable to keep herself from laughing, Morgan added the points up and  
conceded defeat.  "I don't have enough letters to make any real words," she  
told the little girl. 
 
Abruptly, Merry looked abashed.  "I didn't cheat." 
 
"I know that," Morgan told her comfortably.  "You're just too darn smart,  
kidlet.  Ready to cook something for dinner?" 
 
"You don't eat meat," Merry told her, appraising her, then smiled sunnily.  "I  
can help?" 
 
"You certainly can.  No knives, I'm afraid, and you're still a little small for the  
burners, but you can help me with everything else."  Morgan sighed and  
reached out, brushed Merry's hair back from her face before beginning to  
pick up the tiles from the board. 
 
Merry giggled again, scooping up tiles.  "I won with Fox," she told Morgan. 
 
Morgan chuckled.  "Yes, you did.  In absentia, as it were." 
 
"What's ab-sensha?"  Merry wanted to know, both eyebrows arching  
upward curiously.   
 
The board followed the tiles, then the two wooden tile holders.  "It's a Latin  
phrase.  I think the best way to think of it as meaning in his absence.  In  
Fox's absence, you won with him." 
 
Merry giggled again, put the lid on the box and let Morgan take it back to the  
closet.  "He hides things up there," she told Morgan. 
 
Morgan's mouth quirked as she turned around.  "Don't tell him you know,  
Merry, he'll be embarrassed." 
 
"Why?" 
 
"Because those are movies for grownups and I don't think he'd like you to  
know he has them." 
 
"But Fox is a grownup."  
 
Morgan's mouth curved.  "Yeah, but it's one of those weird grownup things,  
Merry.  Grownups can really be strange and illogical at times." 
 
She could almost hear the wheels turning in that small head.  Then,  
seemingly satisfied, Merry nodded firmly.  "I won't tell him I know." 
 
Somehow, that small conspiracy sealed their tentative bonding. Reaching  
out for Merry's hand, Morgan squeezed it when it slipped into hers.  Smiled  
down and led Merry into the kitchen. 
_____________________________________ 
 
The flight was mostly silent, but Mulder didn't sleep.  That was  
uncharacteristic enough that Scully watched him warily, wondering what he  
was thinking as he read over the slick sheets of fax paper that had arrived  
before their departure. 
 
Wondering if his apparent dive into family life was serious, whether or not  
he really planned to keep Merry, whether or not he really believed that Merry  
was his child and Morgan's.  And wondering why the Illuminati had divulged  
such inflammatory information to the two of them. 
 
Wondering what bargain Morgan had made to get the files they had shown  
her.  What changes had been made to Mulder in utero and why his sister  
had been taken instead. 
 
The questions that crowded her mind distracted her from her own fears.   
But they also raised other questions, more troubling.  They'd had her for two  
months, a black hole in her time sense that sucked away her confidence  
and strength, wondering what had been done to her, wondering what had  
caused the tumor in her head, wondering-- 
 
"Scully?"  Mulder's voice was soft, and the touch on her wrist was even  
softer.  "You okay?" 
 
"Yeah."  She managed to smile at him.  "Fine, Mulder.  Just thinking." 
 
His gaze stayed on her, over the tops of his glasses, the fax papers  
forgotten.  "About what?" 
 
"About Merry."  She shrugged and sighed.  "About you.  About what  
happened to me while I was..."  Her voice trailed off.  What could you say?   
 
While I was missing?  While I was being tested, used as an experimental  
subject?  And why would they have wanted her ova, anyway?  It wasn't like  
Morgan and Mulder, her parents hadn't been part of any government project,  
not like theirs.  She was intelligent and strong willed, but she had no odd  
talents, no predisposition toward parlor tricks.  Well, unless one counted  
what Gran had once said about Scullys occasionally having Second Sight.   
And she didn't. 
 
Mulder's mouth tightened, his gaze dropped briefly and returned to her.  "I'm  
still me, Scully," he murmured and tightened his gentle hold on her wrist.   
"And you're still yourself.  Despite everything, that's all we can be sure of  
right now." 
 
She thought, but did not say, except that Morgan's ova were harvested,  
Mulder.  That you were both essentially violated.  Except that I want to know  
what they did to me.  I need to know. 
 
Instead of saying these things, she nodded and looked back at her book,  
warmed by his concern.  And a little curious about the distant look his eyes  
had when he looked out the window at the ground below. 
__________________________________ 
 
McLarney, from the Detroit office, was glad to see Mulder.  That in itself, in  
the sometimes hothouse atmosphere of Bureau politics, was refreshing  
enough that Scully didn't mind the attitude of the chief of police, who  
seemed to resent having another pair of Fibbies added to his spare  
conference room. 
 
McLarney offered to drive them to the site when Mulder announced he  
wanted to see it, but Mulder put him off. 
 
They pulled up in front of the house around nine pm, an expensive ranch  
style house in a wooded neighborhood.  When Scully got out of the car, the  
trees rustled with wind that smelled faintly of rain on the way. 
 
The neighborhood was dark, not well lit on the street itself, with only a few  
lights showing in front windows; their heels on the walk were the only sound  
other than the rustling of the trees overhead. 
 
Impossible not to feel like they were entering a house full of ghosts.  But the  
power was still on; Mulder flicked the switch inside the front door and warm,  
golden light bloomed, welcoming them. 
 
The house was a mess, tossed quite thoroughly, as if in a hasty search.   
The front closet spilled coats and boots and the assorted flotsam and  
jetsam of several years spent living in one place.  The upstairs linen closet  
was empty, the towels and blankets and sheets were strewn along the  
hallway. 
 
"They were looking for Merry," Mulder muttered, his expression grim.  "She  
hid from them, she says." 
 
And had done very well at it, Scully considered, looking down the hall. 
 
The next stop was the master bedroom, with tape laid out on the rug where  
Martin Wells had fallen, trying to get away from his murderers.  Mulder  
intoned the facts they had in a low, almost inaudible voice.  Katherine  
Pritcher had been shot at the base of the skull while lying on her stomach in  
bed.  One clean shot to the brain.  Wells must have woken and tried to  
escape, he had been shot twice in the face.   
 
Or woken and tried to save Merry, Scully added to herself silently. 
 
Both closets in the master bedroom had been rifled, clothes thrown on the  
floor, shoes swept out of the way.  More searching. 
 
If it had been successful, a little girl of six would have ended up with a bullet  
in her brain, too. 
 
The forensic evidence was appallingly thin.  Fibers, but no hair.  A handful  
of deformed bullets. 
 
Merry's room was thoroughly disordered, more evidence of the frantic  
search for the main target. 
 
"They couldn't find her," Mulder murmured, staring at the small bed with the  
canopy.   
 
"No."  Scully swallowed.  "Mulder, if we're going to find anything out, we  
need to start checking their papers, their bills, their financial statements." 
 
Mulder took a step forward to the child's dresser and reached out to touch  
the basket on top.  Retrieved a child's barrette.  Stared at it.  
 
Moving after him, she touched his sleeve lightly.  "Come on, Mulder." 
 
He offered her a faint, distracted smile.  "Yeah." 
 
When she left the room, he was behind her.  No pictures on the upstairs  
hallway wall.  None of the usual portrayal of a family's history, the kind they'd  
seen in so many cases. 
 
But downstairs, where neighbors would come and see, there were many. 
 
Scully took the small home office off the kitchen, booted up the computer  
and began going through files. 
 
Mulder hesitated at the doorway.  "I'm going to see if they left any journals,  
any information about the project." 
 
Nodding absently, she smiled when Windows came up.  Ah, they had  
Quicken.  How delightfully organized--this might be easier than she thought. 
 
But it took her nearly an hour to find what she was looking for. 
_____________________________________ 
 
Mulder found nothing. 
 
No journals tucked into bookshelves, drawers, closets, under mattresses-- 
he left the master bedroom in greater disarray, but hardly cared. 
 
Downstairs again.  Bookshelves lined one wall.  Popular fiction, non-fiction,  
and the classics bound in leather.  He started at the top, standing on a step  
stool he'd found in the kitchen, and went through them one by one, stripping  
off dustjackets and letting them fall in an untidy heap on the floor. 
 
The only thing Mulder was sure of, by the time he'd reached the last shelf,  
was that Pritcher and Wells had lousy taste in reading material. 
 
Bending, he took the last shelf, pulled open and discarded coffee table  
books with growing frustration, finding nothing, his gut roiling with the need  
to do so, to know, to understand. 
 
"Mulder."  Scully's voice was soft.  
 
Mulder turned to see her holding something, a book--no, an album.  His  
heart thudded painfully against his ribs and he was there, taking it from her,  
sitting down on the couch to lay it on the table. 
 
A tiny newborn face stared up at him, distressed at the bright lights and  
cold.  He shivered, turned the page, saw a number of posed pictures,  
Katherine Pritcher holding the infant, her expression stiff, Merry in a  
bassinet, Merry in an infant seat.  There was something artificial about all of  
the shots, something--something as stiff as Pritcher's expression.   
Something false.  
 
On the opposite page, more pictures of Merry.  He turned the page, Merry  
older, lying on her belly, arms spread out, holding her head up.   Merry  
waving her hands and feet in the air, trying to reach a crib mobile.  Merry in  
the bath.   
 
Most of them were of Merry alone.  Or Merry with Katherine Pritcher. 
 
Turned more pages.  Merry in a walker, Merry in an infant swing.  Most of  
them were unsmiling, small face serious.   
 
More pages. 
 
Merry toddling, Merry sitting near a Christmas tree.  Merry at two, Merry at  
three, Merry at four.  Merry starting school.   
 
All posed.  Lifeless.  No smile.  No loving parents.  No laughter. 
 
His throat was too tight, his chest hurt.  "She didn't smile for them."  Only  
then did he realize that Scully was sitting beside him, her hand resting lightly  
in the crook of his elbow.  "How did she turn out so--"  His voice failed him. 
 
Scully patted him.  "Loving?  Friendly?  Playful?  I can't imagine, Mulder." 
 
He turned to the last page.  Saw Merry in first grade, or so he guessed,  
since she was taller and wearing a different bookbag.  This time, she stood  
next to another little girl, smiling widely at the camera.  This one was  
different, warm, real.  Lifting the protective film, he pulled it out, turned it  
over.  "Thought you might like this one, the girls going off to school on the  
first day, September 2 - Joyce" 
 
"Someone else took it," he murmured and flipped it back over.  After a  
moment, his fingers reluctant, he put it back, closed the film down over it  
with only a little shakiness in his hands. 
 
Scully took the album from him and put it into her case, completely  
deadpan.  He almost protested, almost grinned.   "Scully," he finally  
muttered, "That's evidence." 
 
She lifted her chin at him.  "The hell with the book, Mulder."  
 
He could have kissed her.   But something else was still nagging at him.  He  
stood and paced a moment, trying to put his finger on it.  "You've got their  
financial records, receipts for bills.  But..." 
 
He paced again, found himself in the front hall, felt her eyes on him.  "We're  
missing something," he muttered and walked past her suddenly.  Opened  
the front door and walked out, turned to face her.  "Something obvious.   
Something important." 
 
Something was tugging at him, something he couldn't identify, but he  
walked back in, past the livingroom and up the short flight of stairs. 
 
Scully followed, stopped when he paused at the door to the master  
bedroom, her expression puzzled. 
 
Mulder let himself be tugged forward into the room.  Normal master  
bedroom, nothing kinky, nothing suspicious--he backed out, shook his head  
in passing the doorway, moved forward to the end of the hall, stood in the  
doorway of the room that had been Merry's.  Hesitated, but felt it more  
surely than ever.   
 
The closet. 
 
Walking swiftly, he opened the double doors, bent to pull at a loose corner  
of the carpet on the closet floor.  It came up when he pulled hard enough,  
revealed floorboards and_a neat rectangle of fiberboard with a thin leather  
loop tacked to one edge. 
 
"Bingo."  It was a whisper.   He pulled on the loop, lifted the fiberboard and  
tossed it aside. 
 
Scully had followed him in; she hurried out, returning after a few moments  
with their flashlights, she knelt beside him, pushing the fiberboard out of her  
way.  "What's in there?" 
 
"Crawlway?"  He offered her a grim smile and slipped his arm down into  
darkness, grimacing at the thought of spiders, rats, mice_at least it was dry  
in there.  "What fun."  His fingertips brushed something dry and he tried to  
guess what it was, recognized the shape and texture.  "Books, Scully."   
Scrabbling, he got a stack into his hand and pulled them out, eyeing them  
with something akin to hunger.  Flipping the top one up, he squinted at the  
handwriting. 
 
"The subject is six years old today.  She weighs 43 pounds, and is in the  
95th percentile in height for her age group.  She continues to display well  
above average intelligence, in addition to eidetic memory.  Everything she  
sees or experiences is linked into the web of other experiences, she has  
remembered tastes, smells and textures linked to specific events, and can  
easily remember what she's read. 
 
"It may not be possible to keep her in normal school surroundings much  
longer.  Her teachers have already evidenced a great deal of surprise at her  
level of skill and sophistication.  We may not have the normalization time we  
had requested.  The committee grows more and more curious about her.   
Although we have the support of Reynolds and his group, I wonder how  
much longer we will be allowed to continue. 
 
"The subject occasionally is resistant to the lab; yesterday, no amount of  
coaxing would convince her to enter on her own.  Martin had to carry her in,  
wailing.  A sedative quickly dealt with the hysterics, but I'm concerned.  We  
have provided a stable nonabusive environment, and yet the subject's  
temper is getting more and more evident." 
 
Mulder felt sick, thinking of Merry being carried into a lab against her will.   
Without speaking, he handed it to Scully, took the flashlight and angled it  
down.  More books.  Evidently field journals, of a type.  Observations of  
Merry, the lab animal.   
 
He tossed them on the floor next to Scully and shone the light into the  
darkness again.  It must have been a crawl space, once.  Or space left for  
insulation.  The light caught the glint of metal and his heart quickened; lying  
mostly on his side, he managed to get his arm and shoulder into the  
opening, fumbled with fingers and caught a plastic wrapped handle, yanked  
with muscles already protesting the use to which he was putting them.   
"Damn," he muttered and yanked again, pulling it free into the faint light from  
the opening.  Rolled up onto his knees and lifted it free, glancing aside to  
find Scully sitting on the floor, scowling at the open book she held in her  
hand.  
 
The file cabinet wasn't locked.  Presumably, they had felt it was safe, in the  
darkness under Merry's closet.  Little girl shoes, what had his mother called  
them?  Mary Janes, that was it.  Turning aside from that, he opened the  
cabinet, scowling down at the densely packed material.  "What do you  
know," he breathed and pushed the files aside, seeing three videotapes  
stacked in with the pale folders and papers. 
 
Scully slammed the book shut and laid it carefully aside.  "I'm going to the  
garage to get a box," she told him shortly.  "I'd rather not have anyone see  
us carrying that file cabinet out." 
 
"No, kidding."  Mulder closed the case and got up, stretching a kink out of  
his calf.  Bending, he scooped up the books and piled them on top of the file  
case, went down the stairs again to sit on the couch. 
 
He'd seen a VCR down here, he was certain of it.  And sure enough, in the  
entertainment center, there was a nice, new VCR_popping the first video  
in, he sat back to watch. 
 
It showed the in vitro fertilization process.  Which made him feel faintly ill, to  
think of being used for this.  His muscles tightened, even as he sat still on  
the couch.   
 
Scully came back in as the voice over told him that two embryos had been  
successfully implanted in the surrogate.  She looked askance at the   
television as she passed in front of it. 
 
"Mulder, what is that?"   
 
"The in vitro process."  His voice was hollow in his ears.  "Merry's.  But there  
were two embryos, Scully." 
 
"That's not surprising.  Not all of the embryos make it, Mulder.  Just like in  
nature."  But she  sat down the couch next to him. 
 
Mulder got up stiffly, the second tape in his hand, and went to the VCR,  
popping out the first to replace it with the second.  Pressed start and came  
back to sit beside her on the couch.  His stomach was a hard knot, he could  
almost feel it.  And his hands were trembling slightly, so he laced his fingers  
together, trying to hide it. 
 
Scully slanted him a look.  "Mulder, I don't know if this is--" 
 
"Jesus."  The scene on the television screen was the delivery of a  
screaming infant.  A faceless, gowned individual held the baby up, revealing  
that it was female.  Merry.  Oh, God, it was Merry.  That same individual  
carried her over and laid her on a warming table, still squalling and the  
camera  followed that.  "It's Merry."  His voice was thick.  He swallowed and  
briefly closed his eyes, opened them to see the camera swing back to the  
knot of people clustered around the woman who had given birth.  Zoomed in  
so that he could see what was happening. 
 
"Oh, God."  The words escaped him,  were almost torn from him. 
 
Scully echoed him, her voice a whisper.  "Oh, Mulder." 
 
The second baby was held up, screaming.  Male.  Indisputably male.  A boy.   
Another child.  Merry's brother and his son, as much as Merry was his  
daughter.  He leaned forward across his knees.  He couldn't see anything  
but the screen, nothing but the baby, carried to lie beside Merry on the  
warming table.   Something hurt his throat, he didn't know it was him making  
that sound until Scully's hand closed around his wrist.  His chest hurt.  His  
eyes burned.  "God."  And the two babies on the screen cried and cried,  
mourning the loss of the warm safety of the womb.  "Oh, God, Scully, I have  
a son." 
 
He looked at her, could barely see her face.  Blinked to clear his vision.   
"Oh, God, Scully, where did they take him?" 
 
Scully's eyes were too bright.   "Mulder."  Her hand slid down his wrist,  
fingers curling over his.  "Mulder, just sit here a minute." 
 
He put his head in his hands, stared at the lines on his palms, swallowed  
hard around the pain in his throat. 
 
The voice over stopped abruptly.  The VCR whirred and disgorged the tape.   
After a moment, there was a thud as the tape hit the bottom of the box  
Scully had brought. 
 
He closed his eyes. 
_______________________________________ 
 
 
 
Scully shoved the goddamned fiberboard back into place and pushed the  
carpet back down, swearing under her breath.  Goddamn them, goddamn  
them that they could do something like this to Mulder.   To anyone.   
 
Jesus, she had to get them out of this house before Mulder imploded. 
 
When she came back down the stairs, he was still sitting with his head in  
his hands.  She put her hand lightly on his shoulder, felt the trembling there.   
"Come on, Mulder, let's get out of here.  We've got everything we need." 
 
He came up off the couch in a rush, arms dropping to his side, hands  
fisted.  "Goddamn those fuckers, did you see what they did?"  Rage had  
given him color back. 
 
She wished she knew if this was healthier than the silent stillness.  "Yes,  
Mulder, I saw.  Let's get out of here." 
 
He whirled and swung a fist at the wall.  The sound of the impact was sharp  
and his knuckles left indents beneath an utterly  tedious, if tasteful, print.   
"Those fuckers."  He whirled again, this time to  face.  "They fucking raped  
both of us, Scully.  And stole our kids.  I want my son." 
 
Scully swallowed hard.  "We'll find him, Mulder," although she privately  
hadn't the least hope of it.  "Somehow,  we will.  Now let's get out of here." 
 
His mouth twisted.  "Just like that.  I'm supposed to walk out of here and go  
back to DC without having any idea of where to find him?  I don't think so,  
Scully."  And he walked past her, long, angry strides, flung the door open  
hard enough to leave a mark on the wall behind it, and went out. 
 
Scully blinked.  Swallowed again.  Oh, God, just when he had come to  
terms with the changes in his life.  But she couldn't blame him.  She wanted  
to kill something herself right now.  Bending, she picked up the box, carried  
it to the door, snagging the doorknob with one hand.  Drew it closed behind  
her, and walked to where Mulder stood near the car. 
 
Even in the middle of all this, she couldn't help smiling just a little.  It was  
hard to make a dramatic exit when your partner had the keys. 
 
But she was very gentle with him on the way back to the police station. 
________________________________________ 
 
That night in the motel, the phone dragged Scully from dreams of children  
wearing her face, standing in rows, face after face after face.  The phone  
was a touch of normalcy that she welcomed, even though she knew who it  
was.  
 
Husky from lack of sleep and emotions wound too taut, her partner's voice  
told her, "Scully, I think I've figured out where the lab is." 
 
Raking her hair back, Scully sighed, glanced at the clock and sighed again.   
3:45.  Well, what else was new?  "I'll be right over. 
 
Rolling out of bed, she dressed hastily, jeans and a flannel shirt over a tank  
top, worn running shoes.  Mulder opened the door for her, still wearing his  
trousers, but having discarded his dress shirt and shoes.   
 
"I called the guys," he told her, and despite exhaustion, she could see the  
excitement in his eyes.  "I narrowed it down, those credit card bills you  
found--it's in the Chicago area, Scully.  The Eichorn Foundation." 
 
She took what he handed her and examined it, following the trail he had  
detected as his voice continued, sitting down at the small motel table and  
spreading out the pieces of paper.   By the time he had finished, he was  
sprawled on the bed, pillow balled up under his chin to support it.   
Exhausted, but satisfied. 
 
"So tomorrow, we go to Chicago?"  Arching one eyebrow, Scully studied  
him.  Then, "Did you call Morgan?" 
 
Mulder's brows drew together and she saw the shadow of guilt move behind  
his eyes.  "Shit.  I forgot." 
 
Her mouth twitched.  "Well, don't do it now, it's nearly four in the morning." 
 
He glanced at the clock, offered her an apologetic smile.  "Sorry, I lost  
track." 
 
Her mouth twitched again, into a real smile.  "No kidding."  She looked back  
down at the paper trail.  "Okay, I'm going back to bed, partner, and we'll  
leave for Chicago tomorrow?" 
 
"I still have to do the profile," he told her and yawned suddenly.  "Jesus,  
sorry.  But we can get out of here in the afternoon, I hope.  It's only about  
three or four hours to Chicago." 
 
"As the Mulder flies?"  She grinned at him again.  "Go to sleep, Mulder.  Or  
your brain cells won't be working well enough to write a decent profile.  And  
I'm guessing, even knowing that Merry's alive, that you're going to do a real  
one." 
 
"Yeah."  He gave her another grim smile, entirely satisfied.  "I want these  
guys to be running for *their* lives, Scully." 
 
Rising, she went to the bed and ruffled his hair.  "Get some rest," she told  
him again and moved toward the door.  "Good work, G-man." 
 
Mulder rolled his eyes.  "Don't *you* start.  Are you the one that taught her  
that?" 
 
"Never underestimate Morgan's ability to come up with these things on her  
own," Scully told him gravely.  "I got it from her." 
 
Closing the door behind her, she smiled and went back to her room, falling  
into bed, jeans and all. 
____________________________________ 
 
Morgan had slept restlessly, bothered by dreams she couldn't recall upon  
waking.   Finally, at about 8:00, she woke for the last time to find Merry  
curled up beside her, murmuring to her rabbit in an almost inaudible voice. 
 
"Good morning," Morgan told the child and cupped her hand around Merry's  
cheek, still warm and rosy from sleep. 
 
Merry yawned and smiled.  "You had some bad dreams," she told Morgan,  
"But I chased them away." 
 
Morgan eyed her, feeling her mouth twitch as Merry's expression became a  
little worried.  "That was a nice thing to do." 
 
Relieved, Merry smiled again.  "It wasn't bad?" 
 
"No, it was very kind."  Morgan ruffled Merry's bangs and sat up.  "Mm, we  
slept later today." 
 
Merry sat up, too, holding onto the rabbit by his ears.  "Can we make  
pancakes again?" 
 
Morgan nodded and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, suddenly  
struck by the faint memory of one of her dreams.  "I think I dreamt about a  
house," she said aloud, bemused.   
 
"Me, too," Merry told her solemnly.  "A big house, with a tree in the backyard  
and a fence that went all around." 
 
"Really?"  Morgan considered that, summoning the faint images again.  "Did  
it have a fireplace?" 
 
"Uh huh, and there was a Christmas tree."  Merry yawned again, scrambled  
down from the bed and padded down the hall. 
 
A Christmas tree, Morgan thought, bemused.  She'd missed last Christmas,  
still in a coma.  She wondered if Mulder celebrated Christmas.  Wondered if  
he had celebrated it last year.  As a rule, she didn't, although she had the  
year before, with Aarin.  And supposed she would again this year, for Merry.   
Somehow, the thought wasn't as painful as it might have been a few days  
earlier. 
 
Stretching like a cat, she stood up, rummaged for Mulder's tatty bathrobe  
and slipped it on to follow Merry down the hall.   
 
The phone rang just as she reached the livingroom; sinking onto the couch,  
she picked it up, yawning, and said, "Mulder residence."  
 
There was a familiar chuckle on the other end.  "I got caught up and forgot  
to call last night." 
 
Morgan's mouth curved.  "See how soon you forget us," she teased.  "Ah,  
well, we were busy last night, baking cookies and playing Scrabble.  Merry  
won, by the way, with your name.  The little monster used a triple letter,  
triple word score to slam dunk me." 
 
"Clever child."  Mulder laughed again.  "I miss you both.  God, listen to me,  
Harriet, I sound like the average, everyday clown in the street." 
 
"I don't know that clowns hide certain videos on the shelf in the front closet,"  
she told him reprovingly. 
 
"I hope she's not sitting there." 
 
"She is.  But Animaniacs is on, I'm afraid she's not paying attention."   
 
"Heh, heh."  Then, with a hint of deviltry in his voice, "What are you  
wearing?" 
 
"Your bathrobe, your Tasmanian Devil t-shirt, and a very ordinary, unalluring  
pair of panties."  Morgan grinned.  "What are you wearing?" 
 
He sighed.  "I find your underwear very alluring, Harriet.  I really have lost  
my mind.  And I'm wearing my new tie and the grey suit.  Underwear, socks,  
the usual thing." 
 
"Did you find anything out?" 
 
"Yeah, I'll tell you when I get back.  We're going to follow something up  
today, I'll call you later tonight." 
 
"Okay."  Morgan smiled.  "I love you, Ozzie, even if you are becoming  
revoltingly sentimental." 
 
"Ditto, Harriet."  He laughed again, the sound warm and intimate.  "Let me  
speak to the munchkin." 
 
"Merry, Fox wants to tell you good morning," Morgan called, and Merry's  
head swiveled, Merry leapt up from the floor in front of the television and all  
but snatched the telephone away. 
 
"Hi, Fox!"  Pure delight lit Merry's face from within.  After listening a  
moment, she giggled and nodded, her eyes moving to Morgan.  "Uh huh.  I  
promise."  More giggling.  "Of course, Fox!  Are you coming home soon?"   
Her face went serious.  "Oh.  Well, hurry, okay?  We miss you." 
 
Morgan smiled faintly and accepted the phone back.  "Kids are good at  
putting the screws to you," she murmured, as Merry went back to the  
television. 
 
"Yeah."  Mulder sounded tired suddenly.  "I'll be home as soon as I can.  Be  
careful, Morgan.  For both of you." 
 
"I will."  She hung up the phone as it disconnected, sighed and got back up.   
Coffee was the first item on the agenda.  And then pancakes, per Merry's  
request.  Then, once she was awake and clean and groomed, she would  
figure out what the hell she was supposed to do with a small child caged in  
an apartment. 
______________________________________ 
 
McLarney was glad of the profile, but unconvinced.  "Where's the kid, then?   
Organized crime executions usually take everyone out if they're going to go  
that far, and I don't think they'd be bothered to take a kid with them." 
 
Mulder nodded gravely.  "I think she's dead, Mac.  I'm just not sure where  
you're going to find her." 
 
The chief of police, Adam Reston, a thick-set man with silvering blond hair,  
scowled at Mulder.  "I'm not ready to give up on that little girl, Mr. Mulder." 
 
Mulder's head turned.  "I don't think you should," he sighed.  "But reality-- 
look, I know how you feel, but the odds are that she was dead that night." 
 
Scully watched, interested.  Mulder was becoming the most accomplished  
liar, she thought and had to bit her lower lip to keep that thought checked. 
 
"Do you?  I wonder.  My Katie played with Merry Sands.  They were best  
friends.  My wife Joyce considered her part of the family."  The chief was  
working himself into a temper.  "That little girl spent the night at my house  
more than a dozen times, we took them sledding every winter, we taught  
Merry to ice skate." 
 
Mulder blinked.  "I do know how you feel," he told Reston softly.  "My sister  
was abducted from our house when she was eight and I was twelve.  We  
never found her." 
 
Not entirely true, Scully reflected and moved to touch Mulder's arm.  Reston  
flushed darkly and looked away.  "We need to get going, Mulder." 
 
Mulder nodded, reached out and shook hands with Terry McLarney and  
bent to pick up his briefcase, stuffed with photocopies of the credit card and  
financial statements.  "Good luck, Mac." 
 
"Thanks."  McLarney managed a weary smile.  "Take it easy, Mulder." 
 
"Do my best." 
 
They were nearly to the door of the station when Reston caught up with  
them. 
 
"Look, Agent Mulder, I'd like to apologize--we're all a little on edge,  
Belmont's a small town, and I knew these people."  Reston held out his  
hand.  "Thanks for doing what you could." 
 
Mulder shook hand with him.  "I do know how you feel.  My wife and I have a  
daughter and I can imagine how I would feel.  Too damned well." 
 
Scully's ears nearly came to a point; she stared up at Mulder, stricken mute  
by this statement.  Was he crazy?  Well, of course he was crazy, but what  
the hell-- 
 
Once out in the car, she noticed that there was a spot of color along the  
cheekbone she could see.   
 
"That was stupid," he muttered, and turned the key in the ignition.  "I don't  
know what the fuck's wrong with me.  I just handed them everything." 
 
"I doubt Reston's one of the bad guys," she told him drily.  "But just in case,  
let's hope he doesn't say anything to McLarney.  How well does McLarney  
know you?" 
 
"Not well.  We've worked on a few cases together, back when I was the boy  
wonder of the BSU.  Patterson would send me in to do some flashy work,  
and haul me out again before they made the bust."  He managed to look at  
her, and she saw the matching spot of color on the other cheekbone.  "God,  
next time, just kick me, okay?" 
 
"You're entitled, Mulder."  It was the best she could do, and his head was  
moving negatively before the words were all the way out of her mouth. 
 
"Nothing entitles me to risk Morgan and Merry.  And nothing entitles me to  
lie to a good man who's worried about a child."  The words were flat, and  
that was the last she heard from him until they were nearly one third of the  
way to Chicago. 
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