The car sped through the night, quickly leaving Sternwood Castle behind. It was short one occupant; Phoebe, unable to leave the party, would return back to Brittlegate once her duties as honored guest were over. But in light of what had happened, Mulder and Scully couldn't wait, nor did they want to. They had lost too much time already.
The trip back to Brittlegate Manor provided the perfect environment for planning. It also provided the catalyst for the two to begin the long trip back to each other. They shared ideas, argued over hypotheses, worked out strategies. Together. The two of them worked together long after their arrival back to Brittlegate, working late into the night. They didn't want to loose any more time, but sleep finally got the better of them. When both of them found themselves nodding off at the library table, they decided it was time to go to sleep. Mulder pushed his chair away from the table and rose when Scully stood up. "Well," she said. "I guess there's not a whole lot more that we can do until morning." "But we've done a lot tonight, right?" asked Mulder. "I think a lot was accomplished tonight - don't you?" Scully nodded.
There was an awkward silence as they stood there, facing each other. She wasn't sure what Mulder's response would be, but she had to try. One last time.
"Well..." Mulder began. "Yeah," answered Scully. She took two steps away from Mulder, and stopped. Scully turned to face Mulder and held out her hand. "It's late, Mulder," said Scully. "Come to bed." Mulder said nothing. He simply took two steps towards Scully, and took her hand.
She led both of them out of the Library, upstairs to their room, and to their bed.
It is said that clothes make the person; it can also be argued that clothes can tell a story. A pair of shoes tossed carelessly aside; a tie that drapes the back of a chair; a tuxedo jacket thrown on top of an ottoman. A Midnight Blue evening gown that fell into a pool of fabric on the floor. Onyx shirt studs and cufflinks that fell scattered on to a dresser. A man's shirt that billows to the ground when removed by a woman's hand.
Oh, the tales these clothes could tell if they only had tongues to speak!
Mulder and Scully laid in bed afterwards, his head nestled against Scully's forehead. Scully's head rested in that that special hollow in his chest created by God just for her. A hand tenderly caressed a cheek; a finger lovingly twirled a strand of hair or traced the outline of a lip or gently stroked a brow. In the end, their arms wrapped around each other tightly, cradling each other, supporting each other.
Loving each other.
"What time do you think it is?" Scully whispered. "What time do I think it is," asked Mulder slyly, "or what time's on the clock?" "Well, I'm interested in both interpretations," mused Scully playfully, "but I was thinking we should try to call the Lone Gunmen - let them know what we found out, see if they have any theories." Before Mulder reached for the phone on the nightstand, he bent down to kiss Scully on the lips. "We'll come back to this in a minute," he said.
Mulder picked up the phone, and placed the trans-Atlantic call. Frohicke was the first to answer. "This had better be good," he replied. "I just poured milk on my frosted flakes."
"You know better than that, Frohicke," Mulder replied form overseas. "Surgeon General says shredded wheat's the way to go for men our age."
"Speak for yourself, Mulder, you old dog." Frohicke replied. Langley answered on the speakerphone as Frohicke took a bite of his breakfast.
"Mulder's right - a little fiber can be a wonderful thing. Especially if it means we can finally have the funeral for the thing that died after it crawled up Frohicke's..."
"Alright, boys - let's keep it clean, shall we?" Scully replied, laying her hand on top of her husband's as he held the phone between them. "Ah! The enigmatic doctor Scully-Mulder!" Frohicke replied. Byers entered the basement hideaway in his home, tightening his bathrobe as he spoke. "Scully!" he replied. "How goes things in merry old, cheery old England?" There was silence on the other end as the Lone Gunmen waited for a reply.
"Scully? Mulder? Are you guys still there?" asked Byers.
"Uh, yeah - we're still here," replied Mulder. "Guys.... we've got some news..."
"Oh my God," Frohicke replied under his breath. "They're getting a divorce. Damnit! I knew it..." Langley elbowed Frohicke so hard that the milk in his cereal bowl sloshed out over the side. "You think you could be a little louder?" Byers hissed. "I don't think the neighbors down the street heard you..."
"Guys? You still there?" Mulder replied. Byers paused before he spoke.
"Yeah, Mulder; go ahead. What's up?" It was a minute before Mulder spoke again.
"Guys, we've found Meena. She's alive. She's alive and here in London with the baby."
"My little chickadee's alive?!" Frohicke exclaimed. "But the baby's.... We were at the baby's funeral..."
"Or at least what we thought was his funeral," Langley replied.
"You're absolutely certain it's her - that it's Meena and the baby?" questioned Byers.
"As sure as Scully and I have ever been about anything in our lives," replied Mulder.
"Well, come on folks! Let's bring those little chickadees home to roost!" replied Frohicke. "Yeah, the four of you get your patooties on that big bird and fly on back to the coop," added Langley. "I'm afraid it's not that simple," replied Scully. "Why? Is she hurt?" asked Byers. "What's wrong? Is there something wrong with the baby?"
"Meena's been brainwashed," Mulder replied. "Whoever got to her has erased any memory she had of us, of her life prior to being here in London, and has fabricated a whole existence rooted here on England's green and verdant shores."
"You guys remember the time when I flew out to L.A. -- when you made me think that Mulder needed me out there on a case?" Scully added. "When I was injected with that mind-altering drug? Meena had the same mark behind her ear. I... I was able to get close enough to see it."
"I was able to confront her today -- I'm sorry, now yesterday at Harrod's," Mulder added. "She said she didn't remember me, but as we spoke, she got this incredible headache."
"Definitely a sign that she's fighting a repressed memory," Scully replied "And then by sheer coincidence, she ended up at the awards dinner Mulder and I had to go to for Phoebe Greene-Montague tonight."
"So, the little roundheels finally got married," Langley whispered. "I know it's hard for you, but do you think you could focus?" hissed Frohicke.
"I took a big chance approaching her tonight," Scully replied. "Not knowing her mental state, I could have pushed her right over the edge..."
"You're a parent, Scully," Byers replied. "Both of you are. I would have done the same thing."
"As you can imagine, guys, time is of the essence," said Mulder. "Do you think you can come up with an antidote?" asked Scully. "The drug they're using on Meena is probably a hybrid or a modified version on what was used on you in Los Angeles," Byers replied. "I'm not sure, but I think I know where to start."
"Don't you worry," answered Frohicke. "We'll do whatever it takes to get you, Meena and the wee one back here safe and sound."
"It's got to be three in the morning there," Langley added. "You guys should go to bed."
"We're way ahead of you... But we're not thinking about sleep just yet," replied Mulder. "Huh?" questioned Langley "What do you mean...?"
"Don't think about it so hard, and you might just figure it out," replied Scully. "Good night, guys. And guys? Thanks. For everything."
The three men heard the phone click as Mulder and Scully hung up on the other end. "Man, I can't imagine the stress those two are going through," replied Frohicke. "Yeah," answered Langley. "Like I completely didn't get that last comment..."
As soon as he finished his statement, the light bulb switched on for all three of them.
"OH!"
"Well, I should say it was about damn time," Frohicke replied. "Mulder, Scully... You go guys!"
It was 3:15 a.m. when Mulder hung up the phone, and although it was late, he and his wife stayed awake talking to each other, touching each other, and loving each other well past that gray dawn-before-dawn and into the bright light of a brand new day.