From: DS England <buddhaxds@hotmail.com>
To: <XFilesNC17ff@egroups.com>
Subject: New story: Workings of the Human Heart Pt.1 By DS
Date: Saturday, December 02, 2000 1:57 PM

Workings of the Human Heart

By DeathStryke
Rating NC-17 for graphic sexual content and child death.
Genre-Casefile, MSR
Spoilers-references to several incidents prior to season 7, set sometime in
early season 7
Author's Notes: Thanks to Marty for encouragement and support, and to Cookie
for being a warm and supportive Beta.
Dedicated to Sheri-my touchstone, mentor, and friend. Always, in all ways.


Fox Mulder sighed heavily and put his empty glass on the bar. His head was
swimming and his eyes were watering in the smoky bar. It was 2 am, and the
three other agents with him were in no better shape. None of them had eaten
while on stake out all day, and after what they had found when the shit hit
the fan they'd headed straight to the closest bar, neglecting the Denny's a
mile further down the road.

Mulder and Scully normally didn't make it a habit of fraternizing with other
agents, much less consuming so much alcohol, but Mulder had agreed to the
excursion for the both of them. He knew Scully was upset, and he found
himself almost afraid to be alone with her. He knew they would have to talk
about the case eventually, and he didn't know if he could handle it tonight
as shaken as he was himself. The only thing keeping Mulder grounded in
reality was his utter shock at watching Dana Scully down eleven shots of
Johnny Walker Red and chain-smoke almost an entire pack of Morleys in the
three hours they had been sitting there. Mulder would have made a crack
about her new vice but his tongue was too thick with Jack Daniels to come up
with anything witty. Not to mention that nothing about her demeanor invited
conversation.

Scully noticed him staring at her. "I quit right after I joined the bureau,"
she slurred. "I'll quit again tomorrow." She returned to staring down at the
bar, still shaking ever so slightly. She looked forlorn and lost in her own
thoughts, her auburn hair falling in a way that masked her face, leaving him
unable to read her expression.

Mulder watched the white tendrils of smoke snake around her and spiral
upwards into nothingness. His brain was close to following suit-to
dissipating into drunken oblivion.  He ordered another drink.

"Whiskey, double, neat". The bartender looked doubtful at how long he would
stay on his stool if he had another drink, but poured it anyway. The guy had
on an FBI badge, and his liquor license was expired. Best not to piss the
guy off.

The case had landed on Mulder's desk six weeks ago. A.D. Skinner had come to
him and explained that it wasn't an x-file, but the Birmingham Bureau was
desperate for an arrest and they wanted his expertise as a criminal
profiler. They must have been really desperate to risk their credibility
with the local office by bringing "Spooky" Mulder on board, Mulder thought
wryly. At first he had been inclined to turn it down, but Scully read the
case file and insisted they take it.  Five women in the Birmingham, Alabama
area had been found murdered. The most repugnant and horrifying fact in the
case was that all of the women had been pregnant and near term. Their
fetuses had been delivered via cesarean section with surgical precision. The
women were simply left to bleed out and die after the deliveries. None of
the fetuses had been found.

That is, until today. Mulder had finally found a possible suspect when some
inquiries Scully had made with medical supply companies had turned up orders
for incubators and umbilical cord clamps from one company and laboratory
supplies from another. All ordered by a pathologist in Birmingham who had
been fired from the University of Alabama two years before for doing animal
testing with a potential protease inhibitor without FDA approval.

From the beginning he could tell the case was having an affect on Scully.
She was quiet, unusually so even for her, and had been working late into the
night with him, scouring invoices from medical supply companies and
insisting on doing all the autopsies on the women's bodies. Mulder had
noticed that after first losing Emily then learning she was infertile his
partner had become unusually driven on cases involving children. Driven
wasn't even the right word; more like obsessed. This time she seemed as
intent and focused as he usually was, and it worried him. Not that she
wasn't intent and focused on their work, but she usually was far better than
he at going home at least for a while and leaving the office behind.

Her relentless work had provided the crucial break in the case. She'd made a
list of all neonatal supplies that were ordered and delivered to places
other than licensed medical facilities. She then checked each credit card
they had been charged to, tracing the purchases for the last 6 months. One
charge list had stuck out like a sore thumb-a single male pathologist, Dr.
Stephen Huhme, currently unemployed, who had suddenly begun making regular
purchases of newborn diapers and cases of infant formula from an online baby
store. A quick check found his credit card number on the list of medical
suppliers. They'd taken their evidence to the Birmingham D.A. and gotten a
search warrant for the man's house. Two local field agents, Ford and
Henderson, had gone along with them at the insistence of the Birmingham
office; they didn't want the city slickers stealing their headlines.  It was
that or two guys from the Birmingham Sheriff's department, and after taking
one look at Andy and Barney, Mulder would have given the field agents an
engraved invitation.

None of them had been quite prepared for what they found. Four of the
infants were alive, the youngest approximately 16 days old. They were
malnourished, their cries the mews of a newborn kitten. They were swaddled
in foul smelling blankets, lying in cardboard boxes. None appeared to have
even been bathed after their birth. The most disconcerting part was that
each infant was hooked up to an IV, dripping god knows what into each of
their tiny bodies.

Scully had run outside and vomited repeatedly. Mulder could hear her
retching from all the way inside the house and had wanted to follow her, but
they still had to check the house and secure it. While they were radioing
for ambulances a man had calmly come downstairs from an attic laboratory and
identified himself as Stephen Huhme, explaining that he had found a cure for
AIDS and was proving it by delivering the babies after abducting the
mothers, then injecting them with HIV infected blood and was now "curing"
them with his revolutionary protease inhibitor. He'd even held his arms out
for Henderson to cuff him while Mulder and Ford secured the rest of the
house. He sat calmly waiting for the sheriff's department to arrive to take
him to the city lockup, asking politely and calmly that the agents be
careful with his notebooks as they piled them into evidence boxes so none of
the loose notes were lost. His demeanor had completely unnerved Henderson;
the guy reminded him a little too much of the shrink from Silence of the
Lambs. Mulder had been hesitant to leave Henderson alone with the man; the
young agent was a little to green at the gills and behind the ears to be on
a case like this, so his concern for Scully had been pushed aside while he
hoped Henderson didn't keel over.

Before Mulder had gotten a chance to go check on Scully she came back in the
house, pale but composed. "You okay?" he asked, hearing the "I'm fine,"
before she even spoke the words. He looked at her, eyebrow raised, mimicking
her familiar gesture.  She was lying through her teeth, but he decided not
to press her.

Things had only gotten worse from there. When the ambulances and the social
worker from Child Protective Services arrived, Scully had insisted on
helping get each child unhooked from the IV's, monitoring their vitals and
getting them into the ambulances. She'd followed the paramedics outside with
the last of the children.

After giving a brief statement to the police and watching them drive off
with Dr. Huhme in the back of the car, Mulder had gone to find her. At first
she was nowhere to be found, until he looked into the back of the last
ambulance. Scully was sitting on the gurney, holding and rocking a screaming
raven-haired infant, cooing softly with her face pressed against the child's
grimy jaundiced little cheek. She'd look mortified when she saw Mulder
standing there, and he slipped away without commenting, feeling he'd
interrupted something deeply private. After the ambulance drove off she was
again cool and professional, wearing her Agent Dr. Scully face that Mulder
knew belied the emotions she was hiding.

The press had arrived, leaving the two out of town agents to twiddle their
thumbs while the reporters cheered on the local boys for saving the day.
While Ford and Henderson were interviewed by news crews Mulder and Scully
sat on the porch steps, the silence heavy between them.

"What happened to you out there?" he'd asked. "I've never seen a you get
sick at a scene before. Was it the smell or something else?"

She had sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears, not meeting his
inquisitive gaze. Damn him for always knowing what she was thinking. She
wasn't even alone in her own head anymore. "I'm not sure. I just don't see
how such normal seeming people can be such monsters. He doesn't even look
like a psychopath. Yet he was using those children like lab rats. I know how
that feels, and I can't imagine how one can psychologically recover from
having it done when they are so tiny and helpless. Imagine having the only
thing in the world to bond to being the thing that is slowly killing you. It
makes me lose what little faith I have left in humanity."

Hearing it put to him that way he could understand why she got sick. His own
stomach started feeling a little queasy when he remembered watching her as
she lay dying in a hospital bed after she had been abducted and experimented
on. He'd almost lost her then, and the memory of it chilled him to the bone.

Mulder jerked to attention after almost slipping into unconsciousness. He
missed slamming his head into the bar by a quarter of an inch before he woke
up. Scully giggled maliciously and agents Ford and Henderson looked alarmed.
They had been warned that "Spooky" Mulder was quite a character, but they
hadn't expected this. His partner was pretty but aloof-barely speaking to
either of them except to give orders. They sure didn't operate the way law
enforcement in the south did.

The bartender approached. "Okay, I think your friend here has had enough.
I'm out of Jack and its time to close, so you better get him home. Can I
call you a cab? I don't think any of you are fit to drive."

"No thanks" replied Agent Henderson, a young redhead with a crew cut and
faceful of boyish freckles. It was his first year in the bureau and he'd
nursed two beers all night while the other three drank themselves sick. "I'm
fine to drive. I'll get them out of your hair."

Mulder, Scully and Ford teetered unsteadily off of their barstools and fell
in line behind Henderson, walking out to the car. " Where are you folks
staying?" He asked of Mulder and Scully as he unlocked the car.

The cold night air seemed to have roused Scully a bit. "Umm, the Reddington?
Redding? Something red I think. We got reservations but haven't actually
been there yet. Our bags are in the rental car at your office." She
shivered, pulling her trench coat tighter around her maroon wool suit.

"The Red Roof Inn?" Agent Ford offered, gripping the car as he teetered
dizzily. "Man, my wife is going to kill me when I come home this
shit-faced."

Scully frowned. "No, that's not it. Oh, the Redmont? Is that right Mulder?"

Mulder shrugged as he climbed in the car. "Dunno, never been here before and
damn glad of it, thank you. And I'm never coming back." He proclaimed as he
smacked his head on the edge of the doorjamb trying to sit down in the back
seat.

Henderson sighed as he started the engine. He took out his cell phone and
punched in a number. "Claire, this is Derrik Henderson. Can you put me
through to the night desk at the Redmont Hotel? I think it's on fifth Avenue
North." He swung the car out of the parking lot onto the empty street just
as the neon sign flickered off, leaving the area swallowed in darkness.
"Yes, can you tell me if you have a reservation under the name of Mulder or
Scully? Yes, I'll hold" after a moment he said thank you and hung up. "Yep,
you're at the Redmont. Fancy place. You guys must have a helluva budget.
They usually put us in the Motel Six."

"The Assistant Director's secretary loves me. I'm the only one in the office
who remembers her birthday" Mulder said with a smile. Scully gave him a
withering look and he slunk down in his seat a bit. He usually preferred to
stay in the worst dives he could find; she had adamantly insisted on staying
somewhere "decent" this trip. And she was willing to bet fifty dollars he
had no idea when Kim's birthday was.

Agent Ford fell asleep before the car reached the interstate, head against
the window, snoring heavily. Mulder leaned towards Scully and whispered, "If
I were his wife I think I'd skip killing him and just leave the country."
She gave him a look that shut him up immediately and poked him in the ribs
with a well-manicured finger for emphasis. Her blue eyes glowed like a cat's
in the dark and she looked downright feral. Mulder decided right then and
there he didn't ever want to see her drunk again. She was one of those scary
moody drunks. Like his father had been.

Mulder rolled down the window and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the
wind on his face. He wished he could get those tiny dirty faces out of his
head. The image of Scully insisting on placing them one by one in the
ambulances herself was burned into his head. Remembering her holding that
filthy innocent little head against her cheek brought a pain to his chest
that wouldn't go away. He'd never realized it before, or never wanted to
admit it before, but she must have really wanted to have kids one day. She
would have been a wonderful mother too. Another of many things that had been
stolen from her in the years they had worked together. He found it
disconcerting that they'd both known so much more pain than achievement
during their partnership.

Without thinking he reached over to squeeze her hand. She returned the
gesture by gripping his hand fiercely. Mulder opened his eyes and saw she
was fighting to hold back the tears glistening in her eyes. He reached over
and pulled her to him, positioning her head on his shoulder and patting her
soft red hair awkwardly. Normally she held herself stiff and untouchable
when other agents were around. They'd held and comforted each other after
many difficult cases and ordeals, but women in the FBI couldn't afford to
show any emotions; they were easily labeled as weak and ended up pushing
paper in an office with no possibility of career advancement. But this time
she molded herself into the crook of his arm. He could feel her shivering,
from cold or something deeper he couldn't tell.

The rest of the ride was silent. Agent Henderson stopped at the office to
get their bags from the trunk of the car they had driven from the airport,
promising to have someone bring the car to their hotel in the morning. He
then dropped Agent Ford off at his house. As Ford staggered up the stairs to
his front door Henderson commenting "Ford's wife is gonna have his balls for
this."

By three A.M. Mulder and Scully were dropped off at the hotel. Henderson was
right, noted Mulder. It was a very nice hotel. Not that he cared, as long as
the water in the shower was hot and the bed was clean. He planned on being
sound asleep within the half hour.

When they arrived at their rooms Scully dropped her key four times trying to
unlock her door, almost falling over twice while retrieving it. "Scully,
would you like some help?" Mulder asked, both bemused and more than a little
disturbed by her condition. The most he'd ever seen her drink while they
were away from home was two glasses of wine. He had no idea she could shoot
bourbon like it was apple juice. Her behavior was beyond out of character.
Normally she was the picture of professionalism and propriety and he was the
easily excited and over emotional one of the pair. His inability to detach
from a case and willingness to bend the rules had gotten them into trouble
more times than he could count.  Maybe she was angry he'd seen her in the
ambulance, he mused. It bothered him more than he liked to admit that after
all this time she still felt the need to play the emotionally detached
professional in front of him.

She glared at him sullenly and the door finally opened. "There, I got it.
I'm just fine, thanks." She stomped into the room, leaving her bag in the
corridor. Mulder grabbed it up and followed her in before she could slam the
door in his face.

"You might want this," he offered, tossing the bag on the bed.

She flushed red. "Oh, yeah, um, thanks..." She turned away from him and
began to unpack, her demeanor silently dismissing him from her presence.

Mulder had a strong feeling he was going to get his head bitten off, but he
asked anyway. "Do you want to talk? You can't lie to me and tell me this
hasn't totally flipped you out. Hell, I'm flipped out. It's days like today
that make me wonder why the hell I stay in this job."

Scully whirled around to look at him, tears shining in her eyes again. "That
baby hadn't been dead very long, maybe a day. If I had just worked a little
harder, maybe he would still be alive. I could have saved him if I'd just
been a little faster. Skipped a lunch, not watched TV for a couple of hours
the other night. If I had been working, I might have saved him."

"Scully, that man infected them with the AIDS virus. They're all going to
die. It's awful, an atrocity what he did, but maybe that one baby had the
most merciful ending of them all." Mulder measured his words carefully,
speaking gently. It obviously hadn't occurred to his partner that there was
no happy ending here for any of those poor kids.

Scully looked stunned. The color drained from her face and her hands
trembled again. "One of the mothers was a 17 year old single girl. If her
baby is one of the ones that lived, I'm going to adopt it."

"What? Scully, that's crazy." Ouch, that was the wrong thing to say. He ran
his hand through his hair, desperate to find the right words. "How can you
set yourself up for more pain like that? All of those kids are going to die
one day. One day you'll find the right guy and you can adopt a healthy kid
and have the white picket fence and the whole shebang. Don't feel obligated
to try to save those kids, because you can't. We wouldn't have found them
when we did if it hadn't been for you. You did everything you could."

Her eyes blazed. For a moment Mulder thought she was going to punch him. Her
hands balled into fists and through clenched teeth she seethed "You fucking
prick! Get out! I'm taking the first goddamn flight home in the morning and
I'm leaving the bureau and I don't ever want to see you again as long as I
live!"

Mulder couldn't move. He'd never realized the depth of her pain and rage
until now, and it was a frightening sight to behold. Her sense of loss over
all that had been taken from her was bubbling up inside of her, bursting
forth from the emotional dam she lived behind. Or maybe he'd known it all
along and just wasn't ready to confront it. He forced himself to move and
grab her by the shoulders. "Scully, what the hell are you talking about?
You're drunk, you're ranting, just go to bed and we'll talk in the morning."
Not exactly soothing or comforting or understanding, but the best he could
manage in his own drunken state.

A sob escaped her lips and she turned away, determined not to cry in front
of him tonight.

"You are such a jackass Mulder. You don't know anything. Just get out. I
hate you."

Okay, that was it. He hadn't said or done a thing to deserve this. "You're
right, I don't know shit Scully. Because you don't tell me! I can't read
your mind! I know that seeing those babies like that hurt you. I've known
for two years that it's tearing you up that you're infertile. But you don't
talk to me, you don't say a word. So how am I supposed to know what to say
to keep from getting my ass chewed when you don't tell me how you feel? Why
don't you write me a goddamn memo telling me what we can and can't discuss,
because I can't figure it out anymore!"

Scully collapsed onto the bed, her sobs coming out in strangled howls of
misery. Mulder's anger drained away and was replaced by genuine fear of the
onslaught of her emotions. His experience with people having nervous
breakdowns wouldn't fill a thimble, and he had no idea what to say to her.
Some psychologist he was. All he knew was that her pain was ripping him
apart. The idea of her in such torment was more than he could stand.

He sat down on the bed beside her and put his arm around her, resisting her
attempt to shrug away. "Scully...Dana...god, I'm sorry." He never called her
Dana. It was almost a rule between them. But tonight all the rules seemed to
be broken. " I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never do that on purpose.
You're the only real friend I have, and it kills me that you don't trust me
enough to tell me what's going on with you. What's that old saying about a
burden shared is a burden halved or something like that? Let me help. Let me
in."

Scully looked up at him. His hazel eyes, though bloodshot and weary, were
warm and intense. Did he really give a damn? Could he handle hearing the
words that wanted to tumble out of her? Yes, she knew he cared, had no doubt
about that, but she also thought that he probably couldn't handle all that
sharing his life with her would entail. But she would say it anyway, and get
it the hell over with. At least she wouldn't have to torture herself every
day anymore, sitting the ten feet from his desk to hers' that might as well
be as wide as an ocean.

"Mulder, there is no storybook ending or white picket fence in my future. I
am barren. I've seen things and done things that make me scream in my sleep.
I wake up to hear babies crying that will never be mine. I hear my sister's
voice and remember all over again that I'll never see her again. I'll wake
up alone every day for the rest of my life because the man I'm in love with
has never given me a second look. And you ask me what the hell is wrong with
me? You are. Because I love you and why the hell would you want me? I can't
have children and there's a microchip in my head that's like a gun.
Someone's holding the trigger and could pull it at any minute. I love you
but I've accepted that you can't ever love me back. So let's just say
goodbye and get it over with. I can't live like this anymore. If I take that
baby at least I'll have someone to love that can love me back..." her words
broke off into incoherent sobs.

Oh dear god he was drunk. She can't possibly have said what his whiskey
numbed brain thought he'd heard. Her face was streaked with tears and her
eyes were bloodshot. She smelled like cigarette smoke and baby vomit and was
the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He fought for control
of his voice, of his emotions. But most of all for control of the urge to
throw her on the bed and kiss away every tear on her beloved face. "Scully,
we're both shit drunk. You're talking out of your head. As much as I've
wanted to hear you say that for the last five years of my life I will take
this conversation as an example of why we should never drink together again
and leave it at that."

It was too late. Yeah, right, thought Mulder. It had been too late that
night on the baseball field all those years ago. He'd belonged to her for as
long as he could remember. She put her hand on his cheek, rubbing the
stubble and the tears, gently tracing the curve of his ear with her
fingertip. Her fingers were soft and cool, the touch of her nearly more than
he could stand. Any control he had over anything was completely gone. He
wrapped his arms around her and put his lips to hers. He'd kissed her
before, warm kisses of affection and friendship that dared to go no further,
but he'd never tasted her lips knowing it was going to change their
relationship forever. Her lips were warm and soft, not open, but not
resistant either. He teased her mouth open with his tongue, sucking and
nipping gently at her lips as he explored the inside of her mouth.

Finally he broke the kiss and whispered in her ear "Scully, please don't do
this. I love you more than my own life and I have for as long as I can
remember. If you're just drunk and lonely please don't do this to me. I
couldn't take it."

Scully twined her slender fingers in his thick crop of disheveled hair,
gently pulling his head down to her neck. "I'd marry you at sunrise but it's
Saturday and the courthouse will be closed.  I'll marry you Monday if you
want. We'll even get that idiot fat ole judge who gave us the search
warrant. Now shut up."

"I'm holding you to that Scully" he growling as he nibbled her neck,
franticly trying to unbutton her shirt. He popped off more buttons that he
actually unfastened, but finally the shirt slid off to expose her shoulders
and Mulder explored the perfect curves of her collarbones.

In a tangle of arms and legs they managed to partially undress, neither
willing to surrender the other for a moment. Finally Mulder pulled away,
drinking up the vision of Dana Scully naked from the waist up on the bed
before him. He was far more sober than before, but still too drunk to think
clearly. He wasn't going to throw her down and climb between her legs like a
desperate high school kid, as much as he wanted to do just that. She needed
more. She deserved more.

Just as Scully opened her mouth to ask what was wrong Mulder laid down
beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body but not
touching her. With one hand he began at her cheekbones, gentle exploring
every curve and plane of her with the pads of his fingers. He traced a
circular path across each breast, invoking little sighs from Scully as he
ran his thumb across her nipples. He leaned down to capture her breast with
his mouth, suckling her nipple like a babe at the breast. Scully quivered
delightfully beneath him, moaning softly. He pulled away enough to reach
around to unbutton her skirt. That's when he noticed the large brown spot on
her burgundy skirt. It was feces. Baby poop. It stopped him in his tracks.

Scully opened her eyes. "What?" she asked softly, not trusting her voice.

Before he could answer the phone rang, making them both jump. He leaned over
her to answer it. "Mulder here."

"Agent Mulder, I'm sorry, I thought I had Agent Scully's room. This is Dr.
Whittaker at Children's Hospital. Agent Scully asked us to let her know if
any of the infant's statuses changed. We were able to match all the babies
with the missing women. All the fathers have been contacted. Unfortunately,
we lost another baby, about an hour ago. Kidney failure, probably from
dehydration and malnourishment. I need to know if she wants to do the
autopsy herself our should we send the body to the county coroner's office."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut. Sweet Jesus, how was he going to tell Scully
this? "Um, I really don't think so. Can you hold off until morning and we'll
let you know? Which one was it?"

"Baby girl Hidalgo. Mother was Estelle Hidalgo, age 17, immigrant from the
Dominican Republic. No family listed in her medical records. Apparently
she'd only had one prenatal checkup even though she was roughly 37 weeks
when the baby was delivered."

Oh fucking Christ. Scully's baby. The one she'd wanted for her own. The one
he'd already decided he would father if that's what it took to get a ring on
her finger before she changed her mind. The one he'd already decided they
would call Samantha if it were a girl. "Thank you. I'll let Agent Scully
know. Will you still be there around 8 am Dr. Whittaker?"

"Yes, I'll see you then."

"Fine, thank you." Mulder sighed deeply and hung up the telephone.

"What is it?" Scully demanded, rising from her prone position.

Fox sat back, taking one of her delicate hands between his own. His larger
hands swallowed hers. "Estelle Hidalgo, the 17 year old girl. Her baby girl
died a little while ago."

Scully jerked her hands to her mouth to bite back the scream that was caught
in her throat. The tiny raven haired baby she'd held in her arms while she
wailed in pain from the bedsores covering her backside. That had to be the
one. There had only been two females, and the other one had blue eyes,
obviously Caucasian. Rough, painful sobs heaved from the marrow of her bones
and came out of her mouth in an animal like death-keen. Mulder didn't think
she could have been in any more agony if it had been her own child. He
pulled the blanket up around them and wrapped his arms around her, not
knowing what else to do.

As the sun began to rise Scully fell into a deep sleep, still hiccupping
with sobs occasionally while she dreamed. Mulder eased her onto the bed and
wrapped her in the blanket. He looked for his duffel bag and realized he'd
left it sitting in the hallway. What had only been about 4 hours felt like a
lifetime ago. He pulled on his pants and retrieved his duffle bag. He took a
quick shower, shaved and brushed his teeth.

After calling down to the front desk to arrange another rental car he wrote
Scully a note that he would be back in a couple of hours and tenderly kissed
her forehead. He was loathe to leave her alone, but knew there were things
that needed to be done. Maybe he could be strong enough to handle it himself
and spare her more pain. She sighed but didn't stir.

He went downstairs and grabbed a cold bagel and a cup of coffee from the
continental breakfast buffet and waited for the new rental car to arrive.
Finally someone from Hertz pulled up in a blue Mitsubishi and handed the
keys to Mulder. He asked directions to Children's hospital and was relieved
that it was only a few blocks away.

He found Dr. Whittaker sitting at the front desk of the NICU. He was a young
lanky man, barely thirty, if that. The ink was probably still fresh on his
degree. Mulder shook his hand and asked, "How are the other babies?"
scanning the warming beds to see if he could identify them.

"Two are HIV positive and in critical but stable condition. One, amazingly,
is HIV negative and in guarded condition. Get him hydrated and fattened up
and he should make a complete recovery."

"The Hidalgo baby. Is the body in the morgue? I'd like to examine it"

"Yes, follow me" the doctor gestured, and Mulder fell in step beside him.
They took an elevator to the basement and the doctor spoke "The police think
Estelle Hidalgo is a false name. They can't find a piece of paper on her
anywhere. Other than a Medicaid application and a passport she seems to not
exist. We can't find any family to release the body to. She'll end up in the
county cemetery in an unmarked grave if we don't find someone to claim the
body in the next day or so." The doctor slid in his key card to open the
locked doors to the morgue. The doors parted and the smell of formaldehyde
made Mulder want to vomit. His eyes watered and the taste of bile filled his
mouth.

He had to do this. For Scully. He had to bury the child they would never
have and give her some sort of closure.

The doctor picked up a clipboard and scanned the numbers on the metal
drawers, finally unlocking one and pulling it open. Lying there on the cold
metal slab was the body of this tiny little girl. She had a head full of
curly black hair and a perfect Cupid's bow mouth. Her body was covered in
bruises and bedsores and the yellow stain of severe jaundice. But her face
was peaceful, as if she were sleeping.

Mulder had seen dead babies before. Ones far more mutilated and mistreated
than this one. He didn't believe in God or angels or anything of the sort,
but he was flooded with certainty that Scully's gentle ministrations had
allowed this child to die peacefully. It had felt love, if only for half an
hour, and it had been enough to send it's soul soaring.

"Is something wrong, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder stopped waxing poetic and decided on a course of action. "Dr.
Whitakker, can I claim the body? Could you release it to me for burial?"

"You mean to the Bureau? Why would they want that?"

"No, to me and Agent Scully. We're getting married in a few days and had
discussed adopting her if she lived. We'd like to see that she has a proper
burial and a name at the very least." Mulder gulped over the lump in his
throat, hoping with all his being that he was doing the right thing.

Dr. Whitakker frowned. "This is really unorthodox. But under the
circumstances I don't see why not. Since the Sheriff's department believes
the mother may have come into the country illegally and they may not ever
find out who she is. I'll have the clerk get you the necessary papers. I'll
be back in a moment."

Mulder was left alone to stare at this infant that symbolized everything
Scully believed she would never have. Mulder didn't want children. Well, if
the world were a far different place he would want them, but it wasn't. With
the Cancerman and Krycek walking the face of the earth no child of his would
ever be safe. No one with the last name Mulder seemed to have a very long
lifespan. But if Scully, his Dana, whom he would marry on Monday if he had
to tie her up to accomplish it, wanted a child they would move to the other
end of the world and change their names. Maybe some pastoral cottage in Loch
Nowhere Scotland would be safe. He'd do whatever she wanted to never hear
her say she hated him again.

He reached down and stroked the tiny cold forehead, brushing the curls
through his fingers. Someone had finally cleaned her up. She was so cold. He
took off his suit jacket and tenderly tucked it around her. He hoped they
fried the bastard who did this in the electric chair and forgot to wet the
sponge.

The clerk came in, her high heels click on the cold tile. "Agent Mulder,
would you like to come to the office and fill these out?"

Mulder took a long look at the infant one last time. He leaned over her
bruised and broken body to whisper. "I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner. I
hope you're someplace wonderful."

He stood back up and looked at the clerk, a plump woman in her fifties with
a kind face and gentle eyes. "Yeah. Can they get her out of here? Get her
dressed in something warm and put her in a bed until I can find a funeral
home?" He couldn't leave knowing she'd go back in that cold dark filing
cabinet.

The woman gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his arm. "Of course. Our
social services coordinator can help you prepare the funeral arrangements
right away. I'll page her while you fill these out."

Mulder followed the woman to her office and sat down at the desk with the
sheath of papers. The first was a blank application for a birth certificate.
Only the name of the mother had been filled in. Everything else in her life
was blank. With shaking hands Mulder took a pen from his shirt pocket and
wrote in careful script in the name box "Mulder-Hidalgo, Samantha Katherine"
A big name for a tiny child who'd barely lived 3 weeks. But no one deserved
to be buried nameless.

Shortly the social worker arrived. Mulder wanted the body disturbed as
little as possible. He chose a funeral home a few blocks from the hospital.
That took the last of the strength he had. "Ma'am, I can't do this." He said
to he social worker, dropping his personal credit card on her desk. "Can you
handle this? You can mail my card back to me. Just get the best of
everything. Big headstone, something with angels. No funeral, just a burial.
Just call my hotel," he jotted the name on his business card along with his
cell phone number.  "Let me know when everything is arranged."

She looked up at him from her desk, her eyes warm and sympathetic. "Agent
Mulder, If I may, this is a very noble thing you are doing, but you don't
have to. There are organizations that arrange funerals for abandoned babies.
They'll take care of everything"

Mulder shook his head. "No. She was not abandoned. She just died before we
could bring her home. But there were two people who very much wanted to be
her parents, and we will see this through" His pager went off. It was the
hotel. Scully.

" I have to get back to the hotel. Can I have a copy of this birth
certificate?"

"Sure, I'll be right back." She left the room with the paper in her hand.

Mulder was lost, drowning in confusion and elation and pain. How could he
bring Scully this piece of paper and an engagement ring, his anticipated
next stop. Then he looked at his watch and realized it was only 7:30am. None
of the jewelry stores would be open, and he'd given his Visa card to the
social worker. Wouldn't Skinner love it if he charged an engagement ring to
the expense account. Oh god he needed more coffee. First things first, get
back to Scully and make sure she hadn't woken up and realized everything
she'd said last night was a drunken rant and she didn't mean any of it. The
social worker returned with the paper and a business card for the funeral
home.

Mulder drove back to the hotel, absently punching at the radio buttons until
he found some station playing Cowboy Mouth. That's what he needed, something
really loud and angsty. Didn't matter if he blew the speakers-the car wasn't
his. He opened the sunroof and let the cold February air revive him as he
cranked the radio, turning up the bass. He wanted the music to pound the
thoughts from his head and give him a moment of peace.

He found Scully showered, dressed, and far more composed than she had been
the night before. She was eating room service breakfast. A second plate for
him sat on the tray.
She smiled wearily. "Hi. Where you been? We have to meet Dr. Whittaker, oh,
twenty minutes ago."

He sat down beside her. "Actually, I already went to the hospital. I did
something. Something big. I hope it's what you wanted. It just felt like the
right thing to do." And with that he handed her the papers, squirming in
anticipation of her reaction.

Tears welled in her eyes as she read them. "Samantha Katherine Mulder
Hidalgo" she said softly. She looked up at him, wondering if she could
possibly love him more than she did at this moment. He had done this for
her. Given his beloved sister's name to this innocent child to give her,
Dana, something he cherished. The last barrier was swept away. He was
handing her his heart on a silver platter. She would care for it like the
most precious gift in the world, for that's what it was.

"I left the social worker to make the burial arrangements" he said
apologetically. "I wanted to Scully, but I just couldn't. I saw her. I
couldn't think any more after that."

She didn't speak. Her heart was so full of pain and happiness and hope and
sadness that there just weren't words to express it. "Do you always called
your fiancées by their last names?"

He gently clasped the back of her neck and pulled her into a tender kiss. At
first hesitant, feathery brushes of his lips on hers, then bolding tracing
her lips with his tongue until they parted and gave him access to the sweet
recesses of her mouth. She tasted of toothpaste and black coffee, a taste he
would get to savor every day for the rest of his life. He inhaled deeply,
reveling in the scent of her. Herbal shampoo and Vanilla Fields perfume, and
a muskier scent all her own. His head was giddy, full of her. He was home.
Years of pain peeled away from him like shedding an outgrown skin as he held
her close, moving his lips down her ears, her neck, the hollow of her
throat, stopping in between kisses to whisper over and over again "Dana
Mulder. My Dana" The most beautiful words he had ever spoken.

Their lovemaking was slow and languid, both of them sad but desperate for
the closeness of one another, desperate to seal the pact they had made to
spend the rest of their lives together. Mulder peeled Scully's clothes away
layer by layer, kissing every inch of skin as he exposed it. She was
remarkable, her milky skin dotted with tiny freckles here and there. He
kissed them all, worshipping and anointing her. Marking her as his own.
Finally he laid her back on the bed, whispering all the things he had long
for years to say as he brought her to orgasm with a gentle circular pattern
of his fingers on the tiny pearl of her clitoris.

He held her, stroking her back as her breathing slowed again before gently
pulling her legs further apart and moving in between them. "No going back,"
he breathed, stroking her breasts, her abdomen, her hips, reaching to grasp
her buttocks. "Promise me. Forever. We're leaving this god-awful city
husband and wife. Promise me."

Scully looked up into his shining eyes. He loved her. He filled her up with
his devotion. Her heart was at peace for the first time in as long as she
could remember. Her body was on fire, aching for the fullness of him inside
of her. "Forever. It's always been that way. But now you know. We have
forever."

He lowered himself atop her and felt her shudder as he entered her slowly.
The warmth of her, being engulfed by her was more joy than he could stand.
His head swam, his heart raced. He moved slowly, propping on one elbow as he
gently thrust inside of her. Each time he pulled further out and plunged
further in, using his free hand to caress her breasts, her abdomen, her
arms. He delighted in the revelation that feathery strokes down the insides
of her arms made her gasp and clench him tighter. He would get to know every
inch of her, everything that caused her to make that sound.

Scully felt her body flush, teetering on the edge of desperation. She
grasped the small of his back and pulled him tighter to her, meeting his
thrust with a grinding motion of her hips. "Mulder, please..."

He gathered her completely to him, burying his face in her neck. One could
no longer tell where he stopped and she began as he thrust deeply into her,
fighting to control his orgasm until she was satisfied. She emitted a small
cry as he felt her contract around him and her fingers dig into his back. A
growl began in the back of his throat and the world went black. With a few
more long deep strokes his own orgasm shuddered through him as he clung to
her.

Floating. Peace. Perfect harmony and union. A marriage of souls, lacking
only a piece of paper. They would rectify that soon enough.  Afterwards they
slept, Mulder's sleep uninterrupted by terror for the first time in years.

End part one

From: DS England <buddhaxds@hotmail.com>

Workings of the Human Heart, pt. 2
By DeathStryke
See part one for notes
Forgot the disclaimer-they don't belong to me, I did not profit from their
fictional exploits, please don't sue me. I don't have any money anyway.

Fox Mulder awoke disoriented. The clock next to the bed read 2:32
pm. He sat up rubbing his eyes, trying to get his bearings. His
heart beat a little faster when he realized Scully wasn't there.
But her bag and an assortment of her belongs were arranged neatly
on the dresser. She hadn't fled in terror. That was a good thing.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and found his boxers
folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Damn that woman was tidy. He
would have to learn the same habit-he was quite certain she
wouldn't be making a habit of picking up his underwear and dirty
socks. He pulled on his boxers and stood; stretching cat-like as
he headed towards the bathroom. There was a soft knock at the
door. He peered through the peephole to find Scully waiting with a
handful of papers. He opened the door a crack to admit her, hiding
behind it to conceal his near nudity from casual passers-by.

"I didn't want to wake you," she explained, smiling almost shyly
"so I went next door to your room to make some calls and get some
work done. We are going to be here a while, I'm afraid. We don't
give depositions on the case until Tuesday."

She looked so young and girlish in her jeans and sweatshirt, her
hair pulled back in a ponytail, that Mulder couldn't help but
grin. She was irresistible.
He took her in his arms for a quick but firm kiss.

"They really want our depositions? I thought there were so busy
throwing a ticker tape parade for the local heroes that they'd
forgotten we existed. Giving depositions won't be much of a
honeymoon. How much vacation time do you have anyway?"

Her smile faded a bit. "Mulder, have you really given this any
thought? How quickly do you think we can throw together a
respectable wedding? Not to mention how this is going to affect
our bureau partnership. There's a lot to think about. I don't want
a big fluffy white gown and twenty bridesmaids, but I don't want
an all night wedding chapel either."

He laughed. She had no idea how much thought he had given this.
How many times he had rehearsed this in his mind and heart until
the dam had finally burst last night.  "Skinner's gonna think we
just did it so you wouldn't ever have to testify against me in
court. But you know what?  I don't give a damn. You promised me.
I'm holding you to it. As a matter of fact, after we get something
to eat I'm buying you the biggest damn ring I can find on
Skinner's expense account. So there."

Her smile blossomed. A lovely rosy tint rose to her cheeks. "Well,
first let's just order up some food and go over some things. I
have a lot to catch you up on."

They ordered Chinese and room service coffee. Scully rifled
through the papers in her hands. "First, Belinda Porter, the
social worker at the hospital called. The arrangements are all
made at John Ridout's funeral home for the burial..."

Mulder stopped her, taking her hand. "Samantha's burial"

"Yes, Samantha's burial" Scully secretly believed this meant as
much to Mulder as it did to her. His Samantha was finally getting
a proper burial. The ghost of her that lived in Mulder's head
could rest in peace. Finally he would have a headstone that bore
her name to leave flowers and remember the little girl that had
shaped and molded his life in so many ways. "It will take at least
6 weeks for the headstone to be ready, but they'll make a
temporary one and she'll be buried Monday."

Mulder thought this over. As much as he wanted to hold her to his
promise, they couldn't bury this child on Monday and have a
quickie wedding ceremony. It felt wrong. And honeymooning Tuesday
in the Birmingham courthouse flat out sucked. So the reasonable
Dr. Scully wins again, he thought wryly.

Scully continued. "Dr. Whittaker called. I declined an autopsy. It's
not necessary for the investigation. All the tests we needed to
prove the case were done while she was still alive. The DA's
office called to let us know they were upgrading the charges to 7
counts of first-degree murder. I ordered some samples of Huhme's
serum to be sent to the FBI lab for testing. The judge refused
bond on Dr. Huhme even before the charges were upgraded. He
probably won't be found fit to stand trial, so they'll most likely
take a plea bargain and won't go for the death penalty as long as
he gets life with no possibility of parole. Derrik Henderson
called about the other rental sitting in their parking lot so I
called Hertz to come pick it up. And I guess that about covers
it."

"I needed a car this morning. I don't have the keys to the other
one, Henderson did, so I rented another one." he paused, sitting
down on the bed and pulling her down beside him. "You know, as
much as I hate to admit that you're right, as usual, I don't want
to marry you then have to spend the next day in court. And I want
the fellas there, and your mom, and maybe even Skinner. Why don't
we wait until next Saturday?"

Scully smiled, rubbing his thigh. "Thank you. I've been wondering
how I was going to tell Mom and Bill I eloped with you."

Mulder groaned. Bill Scully for a brother in law. What a delight.
Good thing he didn't know about the Consortium of faceless men who
would like to see Mulder dead, for he'd likely hand him over in a
heartbeat to keep him away from his sister. Oh, to hell with him.

"But no big production. No white dress, no huge bouquets of
flowers," Scully continued. "I'd rather eat ground glass than plan
a nice catholic wedding. Simple is the keyword here."

"Whatever you want. I'd put on a monkey suit for you, but I can't
say I'm displeased with your line of thinking so far. But I am
putting the fattest diamond in Birmingham on your finger before we
leave."

There was a knock at the door from the takeout service and soon
they were devouring their food. Scully tried hard not to laugh as
Mulder dissected his food, seeking out and removing each sliver of
celery in his chow mien. It took him a full twenty minutes to be
satisfied that all traces of the nasty green stuff had been
removed before he would eat. They ate more or less in silence,
enjoying the comfortable companionship after the emotional roller
coaster of the last 48 hours. Finally with their stomachs full and
their nerves calmed they sat down on the bed together, holding one
another close.

Mulder reveled in the fact that he had her in his arms. This was
no fluke; not borne of fear or loneliness, this was Scully in his
arms because she wanted to be there. She had agreed to marry him.
He remembered her silky curves and warm mouth from earlier this
morning, and the fiery passion that had equaled his own.
Immediately he felt desire building inside of him as her cupped
her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. He loved the rosy
flush it brought to her cheeks. She gasped and then sighed,
leaning into his embrace as he slipped his hand under her FBI
issue gray sweatshirt and caressed her breasts, teasing the
nipples with his thumbs. She wasn't wearing a bra; he wondered if
she had done that on purpose. He made motions to pull the shirt
off of her when she pulled away. Her eyes were blazing but her
face was serious.

"Mulder, I really want to go to the hospital and check on the
babies this afternoon. Could I have a rain check for tonight?"

He counted to ten, running baseball stats through his head in an
effort to abate his raging blood pressure and erection. "Sure.
I'll get dressed. There are a couple of errands I'd like to run
too. Do you mind if I drop you at the hospital and come back to
meet you in an hour?" He saw the look on her face and added with a
grin "No questions, just say yes for once without arguing with
me."

She stood and smiled back. "Okay, just this once. But don't get
used to it." The touch of his hands still burned on her body, and
she wanted nothing more than to climb in bed with him and stay
there until they had to be in court on Tuesday. But she couldn't
give him or her budding happiness her full attention until she
knew if the remaining 3 children were okay.

Mulder showered again and they dressed, donning their FBI uniforms
of tailored suits instead of the jeans and sweats they had spend
the day in.  It was nearly five when Mulder left Scully in front
of Children's Hospital. After she disappeared inside he grabbed
his cell phone and punched in the number of the hotel. "I'd like
to speak to the concierge please. This is Agent Mulder in room
308."

Elevator music droned in his ear for a moment, as he turned left
towards the downtown district. Finally a man's voice said, "This
is Timothy, the concierge. How may I help you Mr. Mulder?"

"Timothy, I need your help. I'm at the corner of 7th Avenue and
20th Street and need to know where the closest jewelry store is. I
also need a bottle of champagne and two dozen roses in my room by
7 o'clock. I have a very romantic evening planned." He smiled to
himself, visions of Scully's nipples, the color of the roses he
would adorn the room with, dancing in his head. He was going to
make this a night she would never forget.

The man put him on hold again and came back just as the light
turned green. "Turn left, Mr. Mulder, and go down to 5th Avenue
North. Levy's Jewelers is there. They were about to close, but I
know they owner and he said he would wait for you. Everything else
will be ready just as you asked."

"Thank you, Timothy. Please charge everything to the account and
add a hundred dollar gratuity for your trouble."

"Thank you, Mr. Mulder. I hope you enjoy your evening." And with
that he hung up.

Mulder grinned broadly at the prospect of seeing Skinner's face
when he got the expense report for this trip. He'd lessen the blow
by asking him to be his best man. He couldn't ask one of the
gunmen or the other two would be offended. He envisioned them as
bridesmaids and snickered. He turned the radio up loud and laughed
out loud in joy. Bill Scully could go fuck himself. The things
Mulder was going to do with his nice little catholic sister would
blow his mind.

He found the jewelry store easily and the owner most accommodating
to his request for something "stunning but not in a flashy way.
Something with emeralds, or maybe sapphires." The sapphires would
match her magnificent blue eyes, but the emeralds would go with
her fiery Irish temper. The man came back with a tray containing a
few rings. The perfect one practically jumped out at him. It was
gold with a traditionally cut emerald and two lines of small
diamonds trailing from the larger gem to the band. The emerald
glowed with an inner fire that made him think of the look in
Scully's eyes that same morning as she'd hovered near orgasm during
their lovemaking. The very thought made his pants uncomfortably
tight again. He threw down the agency-issued MasterCard without
hesitation at the 3 thousand dollar price tag. He was going to put
it on her finger and ravish her. He grinned again just thinking
about it.

"You look like a man who's pretty sure the Intended is going to
say yes." The man commented as he polished the ring before putting
it in a box.

"Oh yeah, as sure as I've ever been of anything in my life. As a
matter of fact, sure enough to go ahead and get two of those gold
wedding bands while I'm here."

Mulder was grinning ear to ear when he left the store with three
jewel boxes and a credit card 4 Gs lighter. He only hoped that all
of the babies had been okay and Scully's spirits were still high.

She looked okay when he met her at the NICU thirty minutes later.
"How are they?" He asked, wanting to kiss her but knowing the
gesture would not be appreciated when she was in "Dr. Scully"
mode.

"The only one still here is Baby Leer. He's critical but stable.
His T cell count is okay but he's on dialysis. Dr. Huhme
apparently didn't think that feeding babies was necessary to
keeping them alive, and he was spilling proteins in his urine.
Baby Donavan and Baby Corenblum are in private rooms with their
fathers and upgraded to stable condition. Corenblum is negative
for HIV and will probably be released this week. Donavan is
positive but thus far has a normal T-cell count. They'll start him
on the cocktail before sending him home."

"That's good to hear. Are you ready to go? I hate hospitals." What
he really hated was the sound of all those ventilators pushing air
into the lungs of the tiny premature babies the NICU housed. The
little chests rose and fell in a jerky, painful rhythm. He was
surprised at how much it disconcerted him. If they didn't finish
up this case soon he was going to ruin his reputation caring about
nothing but aliens and conspiracies, a reputation that had served
him well over the years. Not to mention that the ring that was
burning a hole in his pocket and the thoughts of Scully naked
again that were boring a hole in his brain. He'd never realized
one could be so sad and bursting with happiness at the same time.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice brought him back from his thoughts "I'm
ready whenever you are."

He put his hand on the small of her back and escorted her out. In
the car she said "I should call my mother tomorrow and let her
know our plans. She's going to go into shock," she chuckled,
knowing her mother would secretly be pleased no matter what her
initial reaction was. Maggie Scully liked Mulder, and had been
wringing her hands over her daughter's marital status for years.

When they arrived back at the hotel Scully flipped on the light in
the room and gasped in surprise. The room had been adorned in
bouquets of roses on every surface, even loose petals scattered on
the bed. Vanilla scented votive candles waited to be lit in every
nook and cranny. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket on
the table, which had been adorned with a lacey white tablecloth.
"Mulder, how did you..." she trailed off. Music was playing from a
portable compact disc player on the dresser. It was Sarah
Brightman, her current favorite. How did he know?

Mulder smiled and closed the door behind them, pulling her into
his arms. He'd have to remember to slip Timothy a little extra
cash when they checked out. "Ah, the resources of the FBI are
great, and Skinner won't be back to check the expense account til
Monday. Until then, the great taxpayers of America are going to
help me win my woman instead of feeding pork barrel spending in
the government."

Scully threw back her head and laughed. Oh god her neck looked
delicious... "You certainly have a way with words Mulder. How
could a girl resist? Wouldn't want to disappoint all those
taxpayers."

Mulder lowered his head to hers and captured her mouth in a kiss. At
first, gentle sweeps of his lips across hers, delighting in the
satiny texture of her lips. Then his tongue tasting them,
imploring them to open and admit him to taste the sweetness of her
tongue. The kiss grew more demanding, his arms tightening around
her waist. His tongue sucking gently on hers, his hands fumbling
with her clothes.

He groaned in pleasure and victory when he finally got her blouse
off and gently squeezed her breasts. Scully gasped and pushed his
trousers down to his knees. Between kisses and caresses and words
of love waiting years to be spoken they managed to undress one
another. Mulder scooped her off her feet and carried her to the
bed. His eyes glistened, his face flushed. Scully hadn't thought
it possible that he could be more handsome.

He laid her on the bed, but didn't touch her further. He reached
into the bedside table drawer and retrieved a box of matches, then
went around the room lighting the candles. After the last one he
turned off the light and looked at her again in the golden glow.

He came to her, burying his face between her breasts. She reached
down and grasped his penis, gently squeezing and stroking, running
her finger across the bulging blue vein on the top. Fox thought he
would die of pleasure. Her fingers were leaving tendrils of fire
everywhere they went. He kissed his way down her breasts and
abdomen, tracing with his tongue the tattoo on her hip and the
blossom-like scar on her left side where she'd been shot by Ritter
years ago.  He moved further down the bed and spread her legs,
nuzzling his face in the damp red hairs that covered her sex. She
smelled incredible, warm and musky and primal. He drug his tongue
across her labia lips. His efforts were satisfied by the clench of
her buttocks in his hands. His mouth lapped gently until her inner
lips engorged and parted, revealing the tiny hooded sphere of her
clitoris. He sucked at it, making her moan and grind her hips
against his face. She clenched his shoulders. Oh Jesus it had been
so long since someone had touched her this way. And for so long
she had dreamed of what his face would look like buried between
her legs...

His mouth was insistent, his tongue only leaving her clitoris
occasionally to dip inside the innermost fold of her body. The
hood of her clit pulled back, leaving it sensitive almost to the
point of painfully so. When she tried to draw back he pulled her
hips closer to his face, continuing to devour her.

Her orgasm surged through her body as she gave soft cries of
pleasure. She shook all over with the intensity of it. He
continued to plant small kisses on the insides of her thighs until
she pulled on his shoulders impatiently, eager to feel him inside
of her. He wasn't going to let her rush him. He spooned up behind
her, nuzzling her ears and kissing her shoulders and neck, feeling
her silky hair against his face. When he felt her breathing slow
and her muscles relax her pulled her hips slightly towards him and
pushed the head of his penis against the lips of her vagina. She
moved her legs apart and reached behind to grasp his hip tightly.
He entered her, wrapping his arm around her to keep her pulled
close to him. He moved in and out thinking no other woman
contained the velvety warmth she held. She was the only woman he
belonged inside of-he was made for her. He lost all fear that it
would ever be any other way.

Longing to look into his eyes, she moved away enough to pull him
on top of her. He refused to give into her demands, and only
pushed far enough inside of her for her to feel the head of his
penis teasing her. She grabbed the mattress, groaning in sweet
frustration and tried to push her hips closer to his, to take the
length of him. But he held her in place, entering her slowly only
to pull back and plunge deeply inside. His eyes were open and a
half smile on his face. Leave it to him to be the only man who
fucked with his eyes wide open, unable even to tolerate that
mystery.

He pushed deeply inside of her as he felt his orgasm near, then
she turned the tables on him, locking her legs around his hips so
he was caught, hovering on the verge of orgasm. He literally
growled as he slipped his arms under her legs, catching her knees
on his shoulders so his thrusts nearly met her cervix. She came
again almost immediately, nearly screaming at the magnitude of the
sensation pulsing inside her. Her muscles gripping him even
tighter. "Oh Jesus, oh shit, Scully..." His eyes closed and he
threw his head back as he came, filling her with hot wetness.
Fucking hell he was beautiful when he came, his eyes squeezed shut
and a look of amazement on his face.

Slowly he pulled out and laid beside her again, holding her close
til the both felt grounded on planet earth again. She rolled over
to rub her cheek against his. "Are you always this intense,
Mulder? I don't know if I can keep this pace up every night."

He grinned at her, looking boyish and sweet. "You'll just have to
take your vitamins. It'll take me years to get tired of this." He
climbed out of bed and went to the table to fetch the bottle of
champagne and the glasses. He also snagged his jacket and laid it
across the foot of the bed. He sat the bottle and glasses on the
nightstand and sat down beside her where she lay sprawled in the
bed. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the box from the
jewelers. "Dana Katherine Scully, before I dare let you have
another drop of alcohol, will you verify that you plan to marry me
a week from today?" Okay, he could have probably done better, but
it all sounded like such a cliché and he'd never done this before.
He opened the box and revealed the ring, the green gem glowing
fierily in the candlelight.

She smiled and held her hand out for him to slip the ring onto.
"Yes. A week from today I will marry you. But I am keeping my last
name and we're living in MY apartment." She teased, knowing his
apartment didn't even have a bed in it. He'd slept fully dressed
on his back leather sofa since he moved there. When he slept, that
is, which was just a couple of hours every night.

"Your wish is my command, as long as I can call you Mrs. Mulder
when no one is around every once in a while. I like the way it
sounds."

"Agreed. But I think even if I did change my name you'd still call
me Scully." She pulled the blankets up around them as he climbed
up beside her and took her in his arms again. She settled her head
on his shoulder, savoring the scent of the rose petals crushed
beneath them.

"No, I'll call you beloved Scully, just like I always have in my mind."
He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "We should put the
candles out, it's a fire hazard."

"Shut up Mulder." Scully murmured as she slipped off to sleep.



Tuesday, 2pm


"Thank God that is over!" Mulder exclaimed, pushing open the doors
to the Birmingham Federal Courthouse with enough enthusiasm to
make them rattle. They had been in the judge's chambers since
early morning giving their depositions on the case. Monday had
been spent finishing up their reports at the FBI field office and
visiting the hospital again. Sunday, well, Sunday left a silly
grin on his face that bordered on a smirk.

"Are we really done? We can go home now? What time does our plane
leave?" Scully asked, as relieved as he was but not so verbose
about it.  The last few days had been a roller coaster ride and
she just wanted to sleep in her own bed with Mulder next to her.

He groped in his coat pocket for the tickets. "Four thirty. Which
means we've got just enough time to go to the cemetery before we
board. And we've got a layover in Memphis. There's no such thing
as a direct flight out of this city. Wanna go to Graceland? We
could get married there."

Scully groaned and pushed him playfully. "Not on your life. I have
no interest in seeing where the King took his last poop before
shoving off for parts unknown. How long is the layover anyway?"

"Only an hour. I was just teasing. You have no sense of humor." He
said with a smile as he opened the car door for her.

"I most certainly do, it's just a little more refined than yours',
thank you very much."

"Yeah, right! I like bad porn and you like bad horror movies. Face
it, Scully, we are the ultimate trailer trash."

She laughed but refrained from hitting him as he tried to maneuver
the car out of the narrow parking place. As grueling as today had
been, she really hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. The
burden of her secret was lifted from her shoulders and heart, and
she was reveling in the attentions of the partner who was now her
lover and soon to be husband.

Together they left a dozen white roses at the small grave of the
child Mulder had named after them both. Scully recited the Lord's
Prayer out loud while Mulder bowed his head respectfully. It wasn't
much of a funeral but they had done their best. He'd even paid for
the burial plot next to hers' for her mother to be interred beside
her. He hoped they were both at peace.

As they stood in line at the airport to check their bags Scully's
cell phone rang. "Hello?" she answered, barely keeping her
annoyance in check. God she just wanted to go home.

"Agent Scully, this is Mark Williams with the pathology department
at Children's Hospital. I'm sorry to bother you, I know you've
been in court all day, but I've got some lab reports here you're
going to want to see."

She gestured for Mulder to step out of line instead of loading
their bags on the counter. "Are all of the children alright?"

"Yes ma'am. I'd really rather you see this in black and white. Can
you come down?"

"Yes, Agent Mulder and I will be there in an hour." She hung up
the phone. "You'd better find us a later flight, Mulder.
Something's going on at the hospital."

At the hospital they found Mark Williams waiting for them in the
laboratory. "Nice to meet you, agents," he said, handing Scully a
folder. "I don't know what to make of this and I sure as hell
can't explain it. I was hoping you might have some ideas Agent
Scully."

Scully's eyes grew wide as she read the reports. Mulder peered
over her shoulder. "What do all those numbers mean?"

"They're Retinoid and T-cell levels," she said incredulously  "Dr.
Williams, are you certain these lab draws weren't tainted?"

"I had them redrawn and ran the tests three times on each baby. I
couldn't believe it either."

"Believe what?" Mulder asked, impatient at being left out of the
conversation.

"These blood levels are all normal," Scully explained. "There's no
evidence of the HIV virus in these blood samples, and the retinoid
levels indicate use of a protease inhibitor. All of the babies are
testing negative for HIV."

"Yeah, the only medical problems they are suffering from are
dehydration and malnutrition. If these numbers stay consistent
they should all make complete recoveries."

"You mean Dr. Huhme really has found a cure for AIDS?" Mulder
asked.

"Well, it would be premature to make that assumption, but these
test results definitely indicate the need for further study. We
need to petition the court for copies of Dr. Huhme's notes so the
FBI can send them to the National Institute of Health." Scully
said.

"I think the mad doctor will be the first to accept his Nobel
Prize for Medicine from prison," joked Mulder. Scully gave him a
hard look.

"This isn't anything to joke about. The implications of this are
staggering, Mulder," she turned back to Dr. Williams "Can I make
copies of all these records?"

"Sure, but each file is about three inches thick. Those kids have
had every test done known to man."

At 8:30 Mulder managed to pull Scully away from the copy machine,
her briefcase full to bursting with medical records for the 5
children.

On the plane while Scully dozed Mulder started a journal entry on
his laptop computer. It read, "I am continually amazed and
perplexed by the workings of the human heart and mind. I've known
great joy and great sorrow in the past four days, and cannot
understand how such emotions can exist simultaneously. Dr. Stephen
Huhme remains a mystery to me. How can one be so interested in
curing a disease and saving thousands upon thousands of lives that
you lose regard for the singular human life in the process? This
case has confirmed yet again my belief that the great mystery in
life is not are we alone in the universe, but is instead whether
or not we will ever understand ourselves and the peculiar workings
of the human heart."

END