"You are the light that is leading me to the place where I find peace again. You are the strength that keeps me walking." –From 'Everything' by Lifehouse
By the time the rain stopped, every earthly possession of the four fugitives was drenched. Every fiber of Scully's being was exhausted. She still couldn't shake the sense that something was off balance. Monica felt it too. Scully hadn't yet told her about the pregnancy, but Monica knew that something was up.
Reyes and Doggett walked in front, hand in hand .As the sun rose, she yawned and placed her cheek on his shoulder. Behind them, Mulder and Scully were speculating.
"Look at them," she said. "There's definitely something going on there."
"No way. Doggett's way too timid. Unless he's suffered a head injury recently."
"I think it was Monica who made the first move. She's been ready to crack for years."
"How do you know that? How long have you known her?"
"She delivered my child, remember? We're close."
Mulder noticed that, this time, she spoke about William without that little guilty twang in her voice. Maybe, Just maybe, she could heal.
The debate ended when Mulder and Scully both caught a glimpse of Reyes's ring in the rising sunlight.
It was easily decided that walking down the road in broad daylight couldn't possibly be a good idea. They were starting to feel like they were in some junior high adventure novella, walking at night and hiding in the bushes by the side of the road during the day.
Reyes and Doggett, who had both been awake for more than 24 hours, were dead on their feet. And with Scully being pregnant, Mulder was the obvious choice for the first watch. His back was against a tree, and he had a good view of the road through a gap in the bushes. Scully was sound asleep with her head in his lap. John and Monica were curled up together off to the side, also sound asleep.
Mulder played with Scully's hair absentmindedly. Sitting like this gave him time to think—something he'd been trying to do as little of as possible. The train of thought started out innocently enough—something about sleeping in the woods and sleeping bags and bull-frogs (he'd been a little out of it at the time) but soon he was thinking about other things. Past cases, dangers, fears, conspiracies, pains—things he no longer knew what to do with. At least with the FBI there had been structure and order. They got a case, investigated it, solved it (okay, that part was usually debatable,) and filed it away. Simple as pie. Now there were no cases, no superiors to debate with, no manila file folders and no badges—Mulder had never dreamed that, when it was all over, those would be the things he missed. He had never been one for structure.
He thought for a moment about the Lone Gunmen. He felt a twinge of emotion—after all they had been his best friends—but he somehow felt that they were the lucky ones. They weren't cold, damp and hungry sitting on the ground somewhere in England with a butt slowly going numb and a twitch in their shoulder blade.
Scully shifted a little and he changed his mind about the Gunmen. Mulder was definitely the lucky one. He had gotten the girl and, in one way or another, happily ever after. And while the trio may have been his best friends, Scully was his soul. Wow she was beautiful. Stress and toil had hardened her some and turned a few stray bangs gray, but she didn't look old, just tired. And beautiful.
Scully dreamt of a house with a picket fence. .But the fence didn't protect her, and it wasn't cosmetic. In her dream the fence posts became prison bars and her beautiful house a jail cell.
By the time the rain stopped, every earthly possession of the four fugitives was drenched. Every fiber of Scully's being was exhausted. She still couldn't shake the sense that something was off balance. Monica felt it too. Scully hadn't yet told her about the pregnancy, but Monica knew that something was up.
Reyes and Doggett walked in front, hand in hand .As the sun rose, she yawned and placed her cheek on his shoulder. Behind them, Mulder and Scully were speculating.
"Look at them," she said. "There's definitely something going on there."
"No way. Doggett's way too timid. Unless he's suffered a head injury recently."
"I think it was Monica who made the first move. She's been ready to crack for years."
"How do you know that? How long have you known her?"
"She delivered my child, remember? We're close."
Mulder noticed that, this time, she spoke about William without that little guilty twang in her voice. Maybe, Just maybe, she could heal.
The debate ended when Mulder and Scully both caught a glimpse of Reyes's ring in the rising sunlight.
It was easily decided that walking down the road in broad daylight couldn't possibly be a good idea. They were starting to feel like they were in some junior high adventure novella, walking at night and hiding in the bushes by the side of the road during the day.
Reyes and Doggett, who had both been awake for more than 24 hours, were dead on their feet. And with Scully being pregnant, Mulder was the obvious choice for the first watch. His back was against a tree, and he had a good view of the road through a gap in the bushes. Scully was sound asleep with her head in his lap. John and Monica were curled up together off to the side, also sound asleep.
Mulder played with Scully's hair absentmindedly. Sitting like this gave him time to think—something he'd been trying to do as little of as possible. The train of thought started out innocently enough—something about sleeping in the woods and sleeping bags and bull-frogs (he'd been a little out of it at the time) but soon he was thinking about other things. Past cases, dangers, fears, conspiracies, pains—things he no longer knew what to do with. At least with the FBI there had been structure and order. They got a case, investigated it, solved it (okay, that part was usually debatable,) and filed it away. Simple as pie. Now there were no cases, no superiors to debate with, no manila file folders and no badges—Mulder had never dreamed that, when it was all over, those would be the things he missed. He had never been one for structure.
He thought for a moment about the Lone Gunmen. He felt a twinge of emotion—after all they had been his best friends—but he somehow felt that they were the lucky ones. They weren't cold, damp and hungry sitting on the ground somewhere in England with a butt slowly going numb and a twitch in their shoulder blade.
Scully shifted a little and he changed his mind about the Gunmen. Mulder was definitely the lucky one. He had gotten the girl and, in one way or another, happily ever after. And while the trio may have been his best friends, Scully was his soul. Wow she was beautiful. Stress and toil had hardened her some and turned a few stray bangs gray, but she didn't look old, just tired. And beautiful.
Scully dreamt of a house with a picket fence. .But the fence didn't protect her, and it wasn't cosmetic. In her dream the fence posts became prison bars and her beautiful house a jail cell.