TITLE: The Family AUTHOR: Sandra Winarta DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as the story is in tact along with my name and disclaimer. CLASSIFICATION: V, A, R (of the M&S variety) RATING: PG-13 (for profanity). SPOILERS: Season 5 (up to Emily) TIMELINE: A month after Emily. SUMMARY: Scully contemplates the consequences of losing Emily. DISCLAIMER: I don't own FM, DS or Mrs. Scully, nor do I claim to. CC and 1013 Productions do. I promise to give them back after I've finished playing with them. THE FAMILY by Sandra Winarta The sand twisted and turned, obscuring the already faded horizon. Lashing wind lodged sand into my eyes and nostrils and mouth. Cutting sand. Suffocating sand. My feet lose their balance as the dunes restlessly shift towards an unknown destination. I am weary, the tiny cross that hung like a talisman around my neck weighs me down towards disillusionment. The last of my hope dying in the arms of a three-year-old child. My child. *~*~*~*~*~*~* "Cafe latte?" "Thanks." The waitress set down the glass on the table, the chink of glass surprisingly harsh. I briefly fingered the napkin wrapped neatly around the glass before tasting the coffee. If it was good, I did not notice. Nor did I notice the light Saturday afternoon chatter that fragmented across the Georgetown deli. My mind was far too restless to cope with mere trivialities, preferring to reside in the vacant tunnels of emotion that I had entered into three short weeks ago. Three weeks. That was all it took to scatter the seeds of life's meaning that I had so scrupulously gathered. All it took was one little girl. Emily changed the way I looked at my life, at myself. From the beginning, I had felt a bond with this little girl, this stranger who was essentially closer to me than family. I felt the bond surge when I saw her for the first time, staring mournfully in the arms of her adoptive father. It was as if the pieces of my life locked into place when I fastened my cross around her neck. I knew that with the cross, I passed on a piece of my hope, my faith. Perhaps it was why I felt so hollow at her funeral a few weeks later, when I discovered Emily's empty coffin. I had given her a mother's love. When she died, all my love drained with her to be replaced by a seething anger. At the ones who killed her. At the ones who made her suffer. At the ones who created her to serve Their agenda. Mulder's quiet presence did nothing to calm me. His calm words and gentle touches did not bridge the distance that had been quietly growing between us. It only reminded me of all the opportunities missed over the years. All the opportunities to grow and to be happy and to love. Lost. Because we were afraid of the consequences. The calm of the afternoon was broken by a child's laugh. A small boy on an adjoining table was counting on his fingers, his voice muffled from beneath his oversized cap. His mother and father sat beside him, faces radiant in the faded light. "One, two, three, four..." I watched in fascination. "That's great, Tom!" encouraged the father. "Five... six..." The mother laughed at the antics of her child while straightening his collar. "What's after six?" "Um... is it eight?" the boy said, screwing up his face in confusion. "No. Starts with ssss..." "Seven?" "Yeah, that's it. Good boy." laughed the father, ruffling the boy's head. The boy shined. While the boy raced to ten, his parents cheered. I cheered on silently with them, for them. For the family that I will never have. I once entertained hopes of getting married, settling down to a normal life with the man I loved. Oh, I knew it was all wishful thinking -- I was a born wanderer, hopping from one Naval base to another as a child, from one goal to another as a student, from one small town to another in the field. Despite this, I wanted all the trappings of normalcy. I watched my brothers marry, my cousins marry, my best friends marry, and I would envy them all. Even if the marriage didn't work out. At least they had the opportunity. I was tired of being alone, damn it! Unfortunately, the only man I could see myself marrying was not the marrying kind. He was obsessive, guilt-ridden, obnoxious on the verge of childishness. But he was also loyal, trusting, and was the only person who had ever came close to understanding me. What a pity that he was also my work partner (although I'm sure this reason concerns us less and less), and that the word marriage frightens him more than the IRS or the dentist combined. I watched the young family leave and sighed. Marriage. Children. Fox Mulder. Watching Mulder play with Emily made me smile. He was extremely gentle, extremely funny. It was as if kids allowed him to let his quirky and childlike personality shine through. I'd find myself wanting to hug and thank him for being so wonderful to her. But I chose to push him away. I thought I was strong enough, until I realised I needed him more the harder I pushed. I suddenly felt chilled, even with the warmth of the coffee starting to sink in. I crossed my arms and stared inside the cup. Thinking of Mulder and Emily. "Dana?" I hastily looked up to find my mother staring at me. "You okay, honey?" "Um, yeah." I stammered, quickly pulling out a chair for her. "I'm not going to sit yet, hon. Do you mind if I bring someone today?" She was probably referring to one of her friends. Mom almost always goes to the mall with a friend. It's one of the few times during the week she can socialise. "Sure, bring her in." I said. "Actually, it's a 'he'. I'll go out and get him." She ducked out quickly, leaving my mouth gaping open. Why didn't Mom tell me she was dating? Don't get me wrong. I don't have anything against Mom dating. It's just a surprise when she hasn't really dated since Dad died. Not anyone I'd met, anyway. So who was this mystery man? I held my breath, staring expectantly at the door. And breathed out a sigh of relief when Mulder came tagging in after my mother. He sat down, looking strangely bashful. "You'd be surprised at who you'd find at Victoria's Secret." said Mom. "Victoria's Secret?" I mouthed at Mulder. "I was passing by on the way to Wal-Mart." Mulder defended. "And wasn't that a nice burgundy slip in the window, Fox?" my mother said, absolutely straight-faced. Mulder reddened. "Mom..." I sighed, shaking my head. "Well, it was nice. And don't you think it was Dana's colour, Fox?" Mulder couldn't have gotten much redder if he turned into a tomato. "Mom, stop embarrassing Mulder." "Oh, I'm not embarrassing him." she smiled. "But I think you should take a look at it, hon. Fox could show you." She called the waitress over before anyone could protest, and I caught Mulder with a shock-horror expression on his face. We exchanged knowing grins. Mothers. We ordered and ate and talked casual small talk, giving us a chance to catch up with Mom. I felt the hollowness that had swallowed me a few moments before disappear as I relaxed in the presence of the two most important people in my life. Then I realised, _this_ was my family. These were the people I most cared for, the people I was most bound to. And even if they were the only people who gave a damn about me, it was enough. Mom made a quick exit after an hour, leaving Mulder and I alone at the table. Real subtle, Mom. "Your mom's amazing." Mulder said as he watched her walk out to the busy mall, waving through the window. "Yeah, I know." I smiled, waving back to her. "Sorry about that. My mother has yet to grasp the meaning of the word subtlety." "No need to apologise. I haven't heard of anyone dying of embarrassment yet." "I don't know," I chuckled. "but lots have come close with my mother." "Must be hell bring home dates." "Yeah, I was always afraid they'll skip the country because of Mom's subtle meddling." He laughed softly, playing with his cup. "Speaking of which," I reminded him. "are you going to show me that slip?" He didn't even blink. I was impressed. "Sure. As long as you get to model it for me." he dared. I grinned. "Watch what you're asking Mulder, or I'll might just do it." We paid and left the deli, wandering slowly down the mall, glancing from window to window along with a multitude of shoppers. I had wandered ahead while Mulder was busy scanning a sports store. A bright display across the way caught my eye. A children's clothes store displayed a tiny dress, covered with bright yellow and blue flowers that could have easily been Emily's. I stared at the display, not realising that Mulder had returned until he draped his arm across my shoulders. "Scully?" he asked, his voice tentative like a frightened child's. I did not look at him. I thought of Emily, the little boy I saw with his family, and wandered, what if? "We never had a chance, did we?" I didn't hear his reply. I didn't remember going back to the parking lot. It took me some time to realise that we were in front of Mulder's car. "Mulder, I brought my car." He unlocked the passenger door. "Get in, Scully. We can get it later." I sat down and closed my eyes. I heard the slam of the passenger's door and then the driver's door. I expected the whirr of the engine to come. But nothing came. I turned my head towards him. Mulder stared ahead, sitting very still, as if he was afraid that the slightest movement would cause the carefully laid mortar to crumble. It was a long time before he spoke. And when he did, his voice was so soft that it almost faded into the background. "You must hate me, Scully." Tension lines creased his forehead. I saw his Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed. "Why should I?" I asked, just as softly. He closed his eyes, and slowly, rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Hiding himself from me. "I've never given you a chance, Scully. Don't you see that?" "Mulder..." I protested, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Look at me." His eyes opened, his irises were lifeless pieces of coal stuck in his head. It scared me when I saw that the events of the past year may have left nothing but an empty husk of a man. "Why?" I asked again. He grimaced. "For Christ's sake, Scully. Just look at what's happened to you lately. First, you nearly died of cancer -- and we're not sure if it will remain in remission. Then, if that wasn't enough, you found your daughter, only to have her taken away again." He whispered, "If I were a decent bastard I'd at least have the courtesy to leave you in peace." he shook, "But, no. I couldn't walk away. I _can't_ walk away, Scully. But don't you worry 'cause I will." His eyes weren't lifeless now. In fact, they blazed, branding me. Oh, God. How did I ever think my soul was unbound? Mine was bound to this man's as tight as any knot. Right now, the bindings were so tight that it choked me to tears. I tried to pull him to me, but he resisted, forcing me to pull my hands away. Stubborn man. "Mulder, let it go." "Oh, no... I can't... I can't get any closer, Scully. I'll burn you ten times worse than Cecil l'Ively if I do." I sighed. He just didn't see that there were two sides to an argument. "There's something you're forgetting here." Mulder stayed incredibly still, eyes boring into mine -- hopefully. "I don't want you to walk away." I felt a wave of panic as his eyes darted away. "You have to let me, Scully. If you want to save yourself." he said, weakly. I don't think he even managed to convince himself. "And then who's going to save you?" "I can take care of myself." I laughed. "Hah, you're a worse liar than me." I shook my head. "Be honest, Mulder. Do you really want to walk away?" "I _have_ to walk away." "No, no. You know that's not what I'm asking here. Tell me, do you want to walk away? To never work together? Never call each other at odd hours of the night? Never see each other? Because I think that's what it'll take if you want to make a clean break." I tried to look at him in the eyes, but he continued to avoid me. "Is that what you want to do?" He turned to me now, eyes blurred, but voice firm and sure. "Not in a million years." My mouth twisted into a smile. When I reached out for him this time, he didn't pull away. He wrapped his long arms around me, hugging me possessively. A car honked. We did not move. The car honked again. "Hey! Are you leaving or not?" cried the driver. "Mulder--" "Ignore him." Eventually, the driver pulled away, shouting a few not-so-nice words in the process. The cocooned silence returned, comfortable and warm. His lips brush my cheeks. When I pulled away to study his face, his eyes were softer, warmer, mirroring the warmth I felt inside me. "Thank you." I whispered. He looked confused for a moment. "What for?" "You gave me a chance, Mulder. You took me in when I was green with next to nothing in field experience. You could've tossed me out then, when we couldn't even agree on who's driving." "We could still never agree on that." I chuckled. "Yeah, I know. But you still let me have my say, even if my theory is ten times more implausible than yours." I fingered the lapel of his jacket. "And you could have easily pushed me away. That first case in Oregon? When I came into your room, terrified, you could have made a joke out of it. Throw me out of your room for coming on to you. But you gave me a chance. You told me about Samantha." My fingers stilled their movements. "Mulder, you were my friend even then. And I don't really have that many friends. Not good ones, anyway." "That's my fault." I took a deep breath. "No, it was my choice. You know, as a kid we would see Dad off every time he went on tour. I'd be on the verge of crying, and Dad would say, 'Be brave, Starbuck.' And I'd be brave. I wouldn't cry. "When I think about it, that's what I've been doing all these years. Being brave. Not letting my emotions get to me. Pushing people away because it was easier to be brave that way. I admit that this job doesn't make things easier, but I could have easily made friends, kept in touch with a few close ones. But as it is, I've pushed most of them away. Because it's easier to be brave that way. I don't have to lie when they ask me how I am. "No, Mulder. It was you who gave me a chance." I said, touching his chest. "_You_." I angrily wiped away the tears rolling down my cheeks. "Because I'm not brave, Mulder. I'm a fucking coward. When Emily died, I felt my whole life went to pieces, you know? My only child has died, and I would never get a chance to be a mother again. I couldn't handle that. I'd say to myself for weeks afterwards, 'Be brave, Dana. Be strong.' But you know what I learned? Being brave means being strong enough to ask for help, to admit that you're weak. Not push people away, especially people who'd do anything in the world to help you. "No, Mulder. I'm the biggest coward that ever lived." When I looked up, I found his eyes busily scanning my face. The expression in them made me cry harder. He gave me an awkward smile. "Scully, if anyone is a coward, it's me. I've ditched you so many times, kept things from you, all because I think it will protect you. But inside, I know that you're strong enough. It's just I'm not strong enough. "I found something in the nursing home in San Diego that I think you should know. But I was too scared to tell you." I sat still, shocked. "What about? Emily?" "Not exactly. I... I found that they were raising another one of your ova, Scully. About six months old. You have another child, Scully." Oh, god. Another child. I sobbed and grabbed Mulder, squeezing him to me. "Another child..." I cried, "Was it a girl or a boy?" "A girl... I think." he mumbled. "We have to find her." I said softly. "I know." he replied. "We can't be cowards any more, not if we want to find her and stay sane." "I know." "Mulder, you won't walk away, will you?" I asked, suddenly afraid of being alone. "No, I'll stay." "And I won't be a coward." "Deal." I felt him kiss my forehead. "What do you say we get your car and go back to my place?" he asked. "Mine's closer." "True. Okay, your place?" "Fine. And Mulder?" "Yeah?" "Thanks for being my friend." He smiled. "I don't deserve you, Scully." "Ditto." *~*~*~*~*~*~* That night, I dreamed once more. I was walking with Mulder through the desert, hand in hand. The sky was a crystalline blue, the air unbelievably cool. We walked towards the horizon, where I could see an outline of palm trees. A mirage or an oasis? But as we walked closer, the palm trees did not disappear, and when we arrived we realised it was indeed an oasis, with a fresh, clear water hole. And playing in the water hole were two children -- a girl and a boy. A boy with bright red hair like mine, and a girl with dark brown hair like Mulder's. When they saw us, they ran out of the water, screaming at the top of their lungs the sweetest words I'd ever heard. "Mom! Dad!" THE END.