Novels The Damascus Files In The Interest of Science Other Stories A Deafening Silence Finding Zuzu's Petals Into The Mystic Je T'aime Knockin' On Heaven's Door Knowing Korena, Korena Matthew 19:14 Nightwing Sweet Dreams Symbiosis A Texas History Lesson This Could Be Heaven,   or This Could Be Hell Timepieces Your Soul in My Heart Other Info About Kat Linkage Feedback   Timepieces Text Only Rating: PG - 13 Spoilers: In CC's universe I think through Quagmire. Categories: Angst, MSR - Married, Alternate Universe Summary: Scully and Mulder's life is disrupted again by the return of old enemies. We just don't get a sunset here at our place in the Rockies. Not like the ones we used to get at the hacienda on the beach. Every evening, we'd sit together on the deck and watch the day slowly fade. The sun would finally surrender into the Pacific and above would be the pink and orange glow that gradually deepened to red, indigo and violet, then on to the velvety ebony of night. Now, at our new home in the canyon, twilight fades quickly, in the blink of an eye, into shadowy darkness. We do have the stars. Far away from the brightness of the cities, I look up and see the twinkling Milky Way of my childhood. That's how life is, you lose something, but if you search hard enough you'll find another reason to smile. I glance down at Kristy to remind myself of this truth. She's her daddy's girl. Since day one, she's held my heart in her hands and she's known it. That first night we brought her home from the orphanage in La Paz, she fell asleep in my arms, just like tonight. I held her, up until midnight, until Scully finally persuaded me it was okay to put her down. I don't mind, I love to hold her. I love the heft of her small body in my lap, the warmth of her hand as it rests on mine. I even relish the soft whisper of her snore, as she breathes against my chest. I find the sound comforting. Mama strolls out to check on us. With my free arm I pull her to me and she slides down upon my other knee. She's better now. She's gaining back some of the weight she lost. The thick bulk of my sweater swallows her but she wears it all the time. She says she's always cold. It's like the grief has sapped the warmth from her bones. Please, God, don't let the spark that lights her be gone forever. Help me put a fire back in her soul. As always, she notices the change in my mood. Her hand rises to my face to comfort me. I glance down to see two clear, sapphire eyes and I am suddenly filled with such love it overflows and tears spill down my face. "Mulder?" she whispers, the eyes are now dark with concern. I offer her a grin of reassurance and a murmured, "I love you." And finally, I am graced by the gift of Scully's smile. Her pregnancy made her restless. That's why we made that ill-fated trip into Reno. We had moved to Northern California on a whim, too. It had been mine. It just seemed to me, seclusion in Mexico was just too secluded for a pregnancy. I know, it sounds horrible, but you can't really call me xenophobic -- we were the foreigners. I think during that time, I was reduced to my primitive state. I had become the protector, the provider. I didn't realize my reasoning had been affected. I just believed that it was safer for Scully and the baby, since remote was what we had to be, to be remote in America. We found out she was pregnant in her third month. A routine physical disclosed the fact. It of course, came as a complete shock. You see, Scully had been told by three separate doctors that she was barren. Her ovaries had atrophied. She had not had her menses since she had been returned after her abduction. She had already accepted the fact she would never bear a child. That's why we had adopted Kristina. What we didn't count on was the treatment I had during my childhood and our captivity. I had always been a fast healer. With my penchant for always getting hurt, that was very fortuitous. I never suspected there was a more sinister reason for my self-regenerative abilities. Not until the ACCIDENT. I am a modern medical miracle or a freak of science. Take your pick, both are true, it all depends on how you want to look at it. Three years ago, Scully and I were involved in a car accident. It was one in which, for all intent and purposes, I should have died. I was, believe it or not, a triple amputee. That warm, spring evening, my life was destroyed. Hers was too, because she followed me into my private hell. She gave up her entire life and became my caretaker. She IS an amazing woman -- so strong, so resilient. She nursed me through my attempt at rehabilitation. She stood by me, through my anger and depression. She even was going to help me end it all, when that time came, when I couldn't stand the pain of knowing what I'd become. Once, I had facetiously confided to her I wanted a peg leg. I had honestly, if flippantly told her -- "If you have a peg leg or hooks for hands, you know, maybe it's enough to simply carry on living, you know, bravely facing life with your disability, it's heroic just to survive. But without these things, you're actually expected to make something of your life, achieve something, earn a raise, wear a neck tie. If I did have a peg leg, I'd quite possibly be more happy, more content." Now, I can't believe I ever thought those things. What a pretentious fool I was, thinking I was so wise and philosophical. After the accident, I resented the fact I was still alive and began to hate those who conspired to keep me that way. I hurt everyone around me, especially the person who loved me most. The very day she'd agreed to help me die, a messenger came offering me another chance. The Consortium, our old adversaries, had inadvertently developed a procedure that would give me back my missing limbs. This experiment had not been done totally in the interest of science. After it's success, I was informed that I was to remain at the lab/hospital indefinitely. They harvested skin samples, bone marrow, blood and semen from me -- all to discover how my body had mutated. Their plans were to keep me as their own private lab rat. Luckily, with the help of my mother and the Lone Gunmen, we escaped. We took new identities and made a life for ourselves away from the lies and deceit of our old ones. We were happy when "we" conceived. But always there was a lingering fear. We knew that I had infected her with the my mutated cells. What other changes had occurred to her system? The Lone Gunmen had been made the caretakers of my family's fortune because Fox Mulder was dead. Scully and I were now Dave and Amy Morgan. We kept our low profile because certain people were looking for me. These same people would also want Scully and God forbid, our child, should they ever find out that my wife's barren womb was now bearing fruit. The Gunmen suggested we move to another location for the duration of the pregnancy and the birth. Once the baby was born we could return to our beach front home without a trail leading back to our home base. As I explained before, I chose Northern California as the perfect spot for my son to call his birthplace. We felt it would be best if we had someone house-sit our home and Melvin Frohike said he would send someone down. As paranoid as the eldest Gunman was, we felt sure that whom ever he got would be "safe," with no hidden agenda. Scully was not too sure about having one of the Gunmen's eccentric friends occupying our house for six to eight months, but I assured her that the boys knew she would kick their asses should anything happen to our humble abode. The morning we were to leave for our new residence, our house-sitter showed up at the door. At first glance, I would have sworn it was Melvin Frohike. It was in fact Melvin's older brother, Ira. The family resemblance was remarkable, but Ira's taste in clothes was considerably more mainstream than his baby brother and he proclaimed that the differences did not end there. The elder brother claimed Melvin's eccentricities were the result of their mother dropping him on his head one too many times. Be that as it may, Ira did share his brother's computer interest and planned on running his web page design business out of our home while he took care of our house. With our fingers crossed and with Scully whispering a silent prayer, we left him our keys. We chose Susanville, California for several reasons. Number one on our list was Dr. Julie Phillips. She came highly recommended by Scully's sister-in-law, Tara, as an excellent obstetrician, who specialized in problem pregnancies. We were not sure if this was going to be a problem pregnancy but we went to Dr. Phillips with the explanation that this being the first time Amy (Scully) had conceived, and since she was in her late thirties, we would rather be safe than sorry. Scully and the little uber checked out fine and, wonder of wonders, the pregnancy progressed normally. Number two on our list for picking Susanville was the fact the town was small enough to be, once again, low profile but large enough that we felt at least a part of the world. There was a movie theater, shopping centers and it was within close driving distance to Reno, Nevada. Reason number three was purely aesthetic. That portion of the state is beautiful and Susanville was a picture perfect little town. Plus, number four, we found a great house on the north side of town that we just had to have. It was a log cabin with 2 1/2 stories that offered every modern amenity, including a hot tub in the master bath. Scully, unfortunately, had to forgo that pleasure because of the baby but my forty- year-old bones loved it. The place had three large bedrooms, a den and a family room, so we each had our own space, including Kristina. The backyard was huge and came complete with both a swing set/play yard and a massive patio/deck that offered a wonderful view of the valley. The people of Susanville were small town friendly. Out of necessity, we weren't ones to socialize, but we did become close to the older couple down the hill. They baby sat Kristy for us on occasion and sort of adopted Scully. She needed a mom and we still had not found a way to get together with Maggie, her mother, without endangering everyone involved. I loved her being pregnant. She is a beautiful woman, always, but pregnant she was unbelievably lovely. It took my breath away and made my heart ache just to look at her. Her hair sparkled, highlights I'd never seen and didn't know existed, shone in her hair. Her eyes glowed, they lightened to a shade of blue that rivaled the summer sky. She complained she was getting fat, but to me she had rounded into a Madonna, all knowing and all loving. We would lie together at night, her small body, form fitting next to mine, and I would rest my hand on her belly, delighting in the idea of our love growing there. I went wild the first time I felt the baby kick. He'd been shy those first couple of weeks after Scully first sensed him moving. Finally, I felt the thump that told me my son was alive and thriving. All my life, without knowing it, I had waited for that moment. Life was perfect. I had Scully and Kristina, my two little women and soon I'd have my son. Everything that had gone wrong in my life, I would make right in his. It was a warm summer day and we had made plans to hop over to Reno and spend the night. Scully was entering her seventh month and we knew this would be one of our last trips so far away from home. The Levens, the couple who had befriended us, were to take Kristina for the night. It was harder on us, leaving her for the first time overnight, than it was on the child. She loved the way the couple spoiled her. They were perfect surrogate grandparents. We left early, wanting to make time before the heat of the day came. After dropping Kristina off at the babysitters we were on our way. Highway 395 is a fairly wide two lane road and the scenery on the trip, while not breathtakingly beautiful like that of other excursions you could take in the area, was certainly not boring. It was typical of what one might call high desert with buttes and flat top mesas, on occasion, to break up the plain-like monotony. It was not a commute I'd like to make everyday, but it was a fairly comfortable drive. We'd made reservations at Harrah's for a room and a floor show. Most people who know the two of us don't realize, but in this instance, Scully is more of the die-hard gambler. Oh, she usually just feeds the nickel machines, but she is so cute on the rare occasions she hits a good one. I usually just play a few hands of blackjack then wander over to watch her. I don't think I'll ever tire of Scully-watching. We had gotten in the habit of making a pit stop in the little burg of Doyle on our Reno/Tahoe drives, for that's about as far as the expectant mama could go without needing the facilities. While Scully was in using the ladies room, I topped off the jeep and went inside the convenience store to pay and grab us something to drink. This fateful day, I was strolling back out to the car when I saw him. The sleek black sedan slowed on the highway like it was going to pull into the parking lot, but suddenly sped off, back onto the road. There, through the passenger side window of the purposefully non-descript car, was a face I would never forget. It was Alex Krycek. I trotted over to our 4X4, fumbling with my keys. Tossing the bottled water in the back seat, I started the car up, only to pause to figure my next move. Scully suddenly opened the door and I jumped. She raised a questioning brow at my reaction, but I didn't have a chance to explain. The car returned and pulled into the drive. I instantly gunned the motor and took off down the highway. "Mulder, what's wrong?" Scully asked, a hint of worry in her tone. I checked the rear view mirror and saw they were in pursuit. "Buckle your seat belt," I instructed, hastily cinching my own. Of course, Scully would not let me get away Without answering. "What's going on?" she asked. Still she complied with my request, fastening her belt and adjusting the shoulder harness to accommodate the swell of her belly. "They found us." Three simple words -- such a bitter pill to swallow. I saw her pale as she digested my reply. I had no idea what to do. I hardly thought we could outrun them and the direction we were traveling did not lend itself to evasive maneuvers. Krycek and his goons were several cars back. They had to make a U-turn when we sped off, and traffic on this late summer weekend was heavy. Glancing in the mirror again, I saw our tail was moving up, having passed a couple of semis. They were now two vehicles away -- too close for my comfort. I glanced around the truck ahead of us, noticing it had downshifted to make the steady grade we'd just started to climb. The moment we crested the butte, I pulled out to pass him. That was my first big mistake. The tradgedy was it led to to others. There was a pickup heading straight toward us. I had underestimated its speed and we were in its lane. I had no where to go. On the far side was a steep drop down the mesa. On the other side was, of course, the eighteen wheeler. I floored it and prayed as I shot the gap between the two trucks. We made it, but the moment my tire hit the soft dirt of the shoulder, I knew we were going to over-correct. I tried to keep us from heading off the road but I lost control in the loose sand. We rolled off the side of the steep incline. Our initial tumble seemed in slow motion. I had time enough to see the shocked expression on Scully's face and notice her protectively folding both arms about her mid-section. I just knew I had killed us all. I awoke to the sound of a man talking. I was hanging upside down, my seatbelts still holding me securely. As my mind began to clear, I recognized a sound that chilled my blood. I could hear Scully, somewhere, screaming. I tried to go to her, but found I was trapped. "Hold on, Mr. Morgan," the man, who was an EMT, ordered trying to restrain me. "We have to get your legs free. Your wife is being taken care of. She's in good hands." "They're hurting her," I mumbled. Darkness rose up to meet me. Scully delivered in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Our son never took his first breath. Maggie Scully traveled to Susanville to pick up Kristina from the Levens and brought her to Reno, where she and the Gunmen had gathered upon hearing the news of our accident. She made plans to stay with for as long as we needed her to help watch Kristy. Frohike knew our cover had been blown. He'd left several messages that day to tell us the news. We'd left too early. We didn't find out until the next morning that Ira Frohike was dead. Ira usually contacted Melvin via e-mail every other day. When he didn't hear from his big brother, Melvin got worried and had a contact go check things out at our hacienda. Ira had been beaten and tortured before he died. The eldest Gunman assumed the worst, that they'd gotten what they wanted from Ira, then killed him. Dave, Amy & Kristina Morgan all died that day, too. We never returned to the dream home in Susanville. No need, what we'd left behind wasn't important. We'd learned to travel light. Scully and I left the hospital after two days. Physically I was in worse condition than my wife. I had a broken left leg, a fairly bad concussion and some pretty bruised ribs. But I heal pretty fast. I'm lucky that way. Scully was bruised and battered but her bones were not what got broken on that highway. We spent two months staying at the Gunmen's safe houses, which were the homes of subscribers of their original newspaper. We lived state to state, pillar to post. Such is the life of those who must live “low profile”. Not exactly an environment in which to heal mentally. On the outside, my wife seemed fine. The bruises faded quickly. She heals amazingly fast now too. It wasn't until we got our new identities and settled into the house in Northern Colorado that we were able to even address the fact that Scully really wasn't doing so well. I guess part of the problem was that I, too, was having trouble dealing with what happened. I blamed our enemies for the death of our son, but I knew very well what my role in the tragedy had been. After all, protecting my family, wasn't that my job? I didn't do it too well, now, did I? I still tend to be self-centered at times, the lessons I learned after the first accident sometimes get ignored. I focused more on myself and my guilt and not enough on what Scully was going through. As stupid as it sounds, I even had a hard time facing her, my guilt was so all consuming. It wasn't until we had gotten our new identities and settled in Northern Colorado that I finally took the time to notice the changes in my wife. She was thin, terribly thin. She'd quit eating. She slept all the time. Some days, she never even got dressed. Nothing seemed to matter to her. Now, it didn't take a degree in psychology to know that Scully was suffering from severe depression. No, one look into her eyes could have told me that, had I bothered to notice. I tried to draw her out. To get her to talk about what had happened. She preferred to keep it all locked inside. My next plan was to smother her with kindness. To make up for all the time I'd lost when I was so self-involved. My attempts were ignored. She'd rather be alone. Nothing I could do for her helped. It was Kristina who finally came up with the key that helped her take her first step back. Our daughter is very talented. She loves music. The child can hear a song one time and sing it back to you along with the record. The words are not always right. Some times she misunderstands the lyrics and what the child repeats becomes a different song entirely. Hearing her sing "Son of a bitch, I'm in love with him," to the tune of Madonna's, "Papa Don't Preach," was an eye opener. But she got the words all right the night she sang that song to her mother. I guess she'd heard it countless times before because I'm a Clapton fan. But I had never even stopped to listen to the words myself. Out of the mouths of babes. We'd gone in to tell Mama goodnight. Scully barely had the energy to give her a peck on the cheek. "Can you get Daddy to play my song for you?" Kristy asked, not wanting to leave the room. I had no idea what she was talking about. She had never mentioned to me about having a favorite song. I took her request to be a ploy to stay up and suggested we might let Mama hear it tomorrow. Kristina shook her head, tears in her eyes. I let her lead me down stairs to go get the CD she requested. That's right, she knows exactly how to play Daddy. I was suprised when she picked “Timepieces II”. I was expecting Barney or at least one of her Disney CDs. We hurried back up to play the song for Mama. Our daughter is a ham. She waited till she had our full attention and as I skipped through each tune in turn, she listened to the first few bars in rapt silence, until I finally found the one that was her favorite. "Smile, though your heart is aching. Smile, even though it's breaking. Though there are clouds in the sky, You'll get by... If you smile through your fears and sorrows. Smile and maybe tomorrow. You'll see the sun come shining through. If you just light up your face with gladness, Hide every trace of sadness. Although a tear may be ever, ever so near. That's the time you must keep on trying. Smile, what's the use of crying? You'll find life is still worthwhile If you'll just smile, come on and smile. If you just smile." I looked into Scully's eyes, they were sparkling with tears. She wrapped her arms around Kristina, looked up at me and smiled. Once a week we make the trip down the mountain to Fort Collins to get our groceries and to go to our family-counseling session at the Hope Center. The hour long meetings have helped Scully come to terms with what happened. Healing is slow and there are still some bad days. But she is alive again. You can see it in her eyes. I hate to admit it but the therapy has helped me too. I'm still not ready to deal with all the secrets hidden in my mind, but the grief counseling has helped me overcome my guilt. That's saying a lot for me. We've talked, Scully and I, about trying to become pregnant again. We both have decided that we'll postpone adding to our family until that day when we no longer have to hide. We have hope that it won't be much longer. You see, we've decided to fight back. With the help of our friends, the Gunmen, we feel we have the resources and the connections to bring down our enemies. Our battle will be in the shadows and we know it will be long and hard, but we know we'll never have a life unless we wage this war. The light in her eyes has finally come back and now, that we've decided to fight, the fire has returned to her soul. We feel there's a future there ahead for us. There are no guarantees. There never are, in life. We know that. But there is one thing I'm certain of -- I can face anything for one glimpse of Scully's smile. End DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" and its characters are owned by FOX and its related entities. All rights reserved. This website, its operators and any content on this site relating to "The X-Files" are not authorized by Fox. No copyright infringement is intended. This site created and maintained by Wasatch Design and Consulting.