"Um, is Fox Mulder there?"
A female voice. This better not be an old girlfriend. "Uh, no,
actually, he's not. Can I take a message?"
"Uh, I guess I could try back. When will he be in?"
"I'm not sure, exactly, possibly tomorrow night. May I ask who's
calling?"
"Tell him it's Sam."
A dial tone. 'Sam?' Alex's mind was screaming at him. It
can't be. Thank god the cell phone is on speed dial.
"Mulder?"
"Alex? What's wrong?"
"Mulder, you just got this really strange phone call. I don't know
who it was, but she said to tell you it was Sam."
There was dead silence. "Mulder, are you there?"
"Yeah. I've gotten these calls before, but they stopped when
Cancerman died. I just assumed—"
"It could just be a crank, you know."
"I know. It probably is. But still,—"
"Yeah. That's why I called. I thought you should know right away."
"Thanks." He was quiet for a while. "She's calling back?"
"She said tomorrow night."
"I think I can arrange to be there."
"Okay."
"I love you."
"I know. I love you. I miss you."
"I hate being away."
"You could always take that lovely desk job they offered you."
A snort. Alex smiled. "Yeah, I could. Not."
"Never change, Mulder."
"I can't."
"See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
They had been together for three months. Three months had gone by, and they
only talked about Samantha once. One night, when Alex had to wake Mulder
from a nightmare. That had been the last one. Alex silently assumed it was
because Mulder's life had reached some level of normalcy—with a snort, how
normal are we, he thought—his nightmares had stopped.
Neither of them had discussed it out loud, but they both assumed that
with Cancerman dead, all hope of finding out what happened to Mulder's sister
had died with him. He had threatened that, the whole time, held it over
Mulder's head, until the choice had been taken away from him. Cancerman
died by his own hand, with his world in ashes all around him.
Mulder had cried when he saw the room, the remains, the fire. Not a
lot, not for very long, but he cried. Alex held him that night, and listened
to him breathe. Neither of them said anything. There was nothing left to
say.
So they had picked up their lives, made their slow and treacherous
way into each other's hearts, and lived. And except for one nightmare, they
were happy.
Until the telephone rang.
"Did she say when, exactly?"
"Nope." Alex looked over at his lover, wearing a groove in the
floor. "You're wearing a groove in the floor, you know."
"What?" he looked down. "Oh." He flopped down on the couch by
Alex. "Sorry."
"Relax, babe." He tried that one out for size. Mulder gave him a
look—nope. He couldn't, even after three months, find an endearment that
suited Mulder. 'Honeybunny' had gotten him nowhere, as well as 'sweetie,'
'babycakes,' and 'hunka hunka burnin' looove,' although Mulder had
appreciated the Elvis undertone. He tried to minimize his use of the
hated 'Fox,' calling it out only in moments of extreme passion, when
orgasm excused him. He didn't dare go near 'Spooky'—too many bad
connotations, and he had never liked that one, anyway. Somehow he just
kept arriving back at 'Mulder.' But it was just so—unromantic.
"How about lord and master?"
Alex snorted. "You wish. There's got to be something. Even Dana
lets me use her first name."
"Yeah, well, Scully's always been a sucker for a pretty face."
Alex wrinkled up his nose and stuck out his tongue. "You're just
jealous. You know we're secretly having an affair."
"Oh, yeah, when do you meet?"
"Every time you ditch her to go follow up on one of your leads, she
calls me to commiserate. I'm the only one who understands."
"I hardly ever do that anymore."
"Oh yeah, right. She called me twice last week alone."
"So, where do you meet?"
"No-tell Motel. Route Six. Room 12. They love us there. We
have an account."
"You know, I'm going to cry at your funeral."
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"When Skinner finds out and breaks you into a thousand pieces."
Mulder shook his head. "Such a pretty face, too, it's a shame."
"He won't find out. I've got the perfect cover. My boyfriend
keeps me barefoot and locked in the kitchen..."
Mulder kissed him. Alex had almost mastered the art of not laughing
through these kisses—he had a terrible tendency to react to passion with
mirth and it tended to break the mood.
The phone rang.
Mulder pulled away, swallowed, then grabbed the phone and answered
it. "Hello."
"Fox Mulder?"
"Who is this?"
"It's Sam."
They arranged to meet at a coffeeshop not far from the Hoover building in an
hour. Alex thought Mulder was going to jump out of his skin between now and
then. He even put a successful fight up to drive, although he had to throw
himself bodily in front of the car before Mulder gave in.
"You don't have to come, you know."
"Uh-huh. I wouldn't either, only I want to see you again sometime
in this life."
Mulder looked at him.
"Oh come on, don't tell me that it hasn't crossed your mind that
this could be a setup. I'm covering your back, or you don't go. No
arguments."
Mulder just shrugged, and looked out the passenger window.
"What?"
"Nothing. I was just thinking, a year ago—"
Alex suddenly knew where this was going. "A year ago you thought
I'd be more likely to put a bullet into you than anyone," he said quietly.
"Alex—"
"No, it's okay. It's true. How could you possibly think anything
else?"
They were both silent. Then Mulder sighed.
"I'm sorry he's dead. I'm glad he's dead, but I'd've liked to have
done it myself."
"You don't mean that."
"I don't know. Maybe not. Could you?"
Oh yeah, Alex thought. Damn straight. No problem. Right
between the smoking bastard's eyes. He shrugged.
"I would've helped."
Alex smiled. "This is an extremely gruesome conversation. Besides,
neither of us will ever have to find out."
Alex had told Mulder everything, well, almost everything, about the time
that he had been 'working' for Cancerman. The setup, the monitoring, Dana's
abduction, William Mulder's death. That had come the hardest—a suicide
that was never supposed to happen, orchestrated carefully by the consortium.
They had threatened exposure, and he had killed himself. He had been
delusional at the end, and nearly turned the gun on his son, rather than
risk him finding out the truth. Whatever the truth was, it didn't seem to
matter anymore.
Except when it came to Sam. Nobody knew anything, it seemed. Alex
had his doubts as to whether Cancerman himself knew anything, or whether it
was just a carrot dangled from the start. Disappearing documents, scrambled
files, doctored photos—they had gone a long way, but in the end it hadn't
added up to anything significant. The false Sams paraded in front of Mulder
- Alex didn't know if he could take another one.
And this new one—if she turned out to be a fake, Alex had no doubt
as to what he could do to her.
"Refill?"
The waitress was making pretty-baby eyes at Mulder. They always did
that, and it bugged the hell out of Alex. Mostly because Mulder never seemed
to notice them. No wonder he had such a big video collection.
"Thanks," Alex purred, and slid his hand onto Mulder's thigh. She
poured a little coffee and backed away.
"What the hell was that?"
"Oh, nothing. Just guarding the territory."
"Well, that's a flattering name for me. 'The territory.' I feel
like a new state, or something."
"Well, if you'd master the art of making these flocks of women
disappear, I wouldn't have to indulge in these PDAs all the time."
Mulder smiled.
"You don't want me to stop!" He mock-punched him. "I can't believe
you. Here I thought you were just being all cute and oblivious, and you're
devious as hell!"
Mulder grinned. Caught. "It used to drive Scully crazy, too."
"She's going to kill you when I tell her."
"You are not going to tell her."
"Who's going to stop me?"
"I—"
"Fox Mulder?" A soft voice made them both stop instantly and turn
around. A slim woman, about five-seven or -eight, reddish-brown hair, fair,
dark eyes, stood before them. She seemed uncomfortable.
"Yes," Mulder said. "You must be—"
"Actually, I was hoping you could tell me that."
She slid into the booth and ordered a coffee. She waited until it was in
front of her and liberally doused with milk and sugar before she spoke again.
"I don't exactly know why I'm here. I don't even know why you
agreed to meet me."
"Why did you phone me and say you were Sam?"
She sighed. "My name—the name that's on my driver's license—is
Elizabeth Locke. I was raised from the age of twelve in a government-run
orphanage in Vancouver. When I arrived there I had no name, no
identification, and no memory. The police had found me wandering in a
parking lot in a local shopping mall. They couldn't match me with any
missing children's reports anywhere in Canada. Of course, that was before
most of the information was computerized, but no matches were made. They
placed me in the orphanage, and there I stayed. The chances of being
adopted after the age of three are pretty slim.
"I had an okay adolescence. I didn't hate the orphanage, it was
nice and the people were okay and the other kids didn't bother me. I knew
how to read and write, and I did well in school. It stopped bothering me
after a while who I was and why I couldn't remember anything about myself.
I just assumed that I would never know.
"They had me examined by doctors periodically, who couldn't find any
evidence of what had caused my amnesia. There didn't seem to be anything
physically wrong with me. I didn't suffer from any seizures, epilepsy, no
brain damage. I just couldn't remember. Apparently amnesia like that isn't
unheard of, even outside soap operas."
"But you got your memory back?" Mulder asked.
"No, I never did. I left the orphanage when I was eighteen, went
to university, graduated and got a job. I got married a little while later,
to a man who didn't think it was too strange that I didn't have any family.
He said he appreciated not having a mother-in-law." She smiled at that.
"It really didn't bother me. I wondered, of course, if anyone was ever
looking for me, but there didn't seem to be any way to find out."
"How did you come here then? How did you find me?"
"I thought that you found me. I got an envelope about three
months ago. When I opened it up, I found a lot of photocopied documents,
photographs, a birth certificate, legal papers. It was a mess. When I read
through it, I came across your name. The papers were immunization records,
doctor's records, report cards—all records for a girl from birth to age
ten, named Samantha Mulder. The name of your parents, and your name, was
also on some of the records. I went on the Internet and looked you up. I
found your phone number."
"What took you so long to get in touch with me?"
"I—I didn't look at the envelope right away. My husband was sick
- he was in a car accident about a week before the envelope came. I was
spending most of my time in the hospital with him, and then—" she
swallowed some of her coffee. "He died about ten weeks ago. Massive
internal injuries. They operated seven times, but it was just too bad.
They couldn't save him."
"I'm sorry."
She nodded her head. She seemed very tired. There was something
about her eyes, though.
"I opened the envelope a couple of weeks after the funeral. I had
forgotten all about it, then I was cleaning the bedroom and found it. I had
kicked it under the bed, and I opened it. I couldn't figure out what it
was, why it had been sent to me. The label was very specific—my married
name, address. There was no return address. I assumed that it was meant
for me, and the only reason I could think of was because it must have been
about me."
"Did you keep the envelope it came in?"
"Yeah, I kept everything. I've got it all in my luggage at the
hotel. I thought you'd probably want to see it. FBI, eh, pretty heavy
stuff." She sighed. "I was going to ignore it—just forget it ever
happened, keep it a secret, throw it away—but I couldn't help thinking,
maybe there's someone out there looking for Samantha. I'm not her, I don't
even know her, but—"
"But you came anyway."
She nodded. "Um, do you want to come and see the stuff? We can go
there, if you want."
"Yeah, I'd like that."
"You're not too tired?" Alex asked.
She smiled at him. "I'm tired in a way that I don't think is going
to go away with just sleep. Might as well try and get the mystery cleared
up."
They took Mulder's car to her hotel. It was small, but one of the nicer
ones in that section of town. Alex, and Mulder, too, half-expected the room
to be trashed when they got there—the luggage gone, the furniture
overturned—but it was all there.
"I suppose it's far too late to try to find any fingerprints but
mine."
"I doubt that there were ever any to find. Whoever did this, and
for whatever reason, probably didn't want to be found."
Mulder looked through the documents on the bed. Alex and Elizabeth
sat at the desk.
"Are you in the FBI, too, Mr. Krycek?"
"Alex, please. No, I used to be, but I'm not anymore."
"And you and Fox" Mulder lifted his head at that "are—"
"Friends." He smiled. "Good friends."
She smiled as well, knowingly. "Ah. Well, it's good to have good
friends." She turned back to Mulder. "Is any of this authentic? Can you
tell?"
"It's the right school, the right doctor, right birthdate. Still,
it's not really anything that wouldn't be part of public record. Nothing
that would be too difficult to find and copy."
"I wonder if either of us is ever really going to know the truth."
"There are ways."
"Yeah. Blood tests, DNA. I watched OJ Simpson, too." She paused.
"Are your parents alive?"
"My mother is. My father died a couple of years ago."
"Did they ever have any other children?"
"No, just—" He almost said 'just you,' but stopped himself.
"Just Samantha."
"It's a pretty name. Everybody calls me Beth."
"Well, Beth, with your permission, I'd like to arrange some tests.
My partner is a doctor. I'd like to call her and see what we can set up."
"By all means. I'd like to know."
Scully came right over after only a short explanatory phone call. Alex
loved that about her. She was the only other one, besides him, that would
do that for Mulder. A willing suspension of disbelief was definitely on
the job description for partner of Fox Mulder.
She was surreptitiously trying to compare the two of them, just
as Alex had. There was something about her eyes that was familiar. He
couldn't think if it was Mulder or his father, though.
Scully was in her doctor mode right away. "We can set up blood
tests and have the results back right away. DNA tests are going to take
longer, but if we run the tests through the Bureau labs, we should have our
answers by the end of the week."
"I hate to ask this, but is it going to hurt?" Beth asked.
"I was thinking the same thing," Mulder said, grinning.
"No, don't worry, either of you. Just a regular pinprick type of
hurt, over very fast. I'm sure you'll both survive."
"When can you get us in?"
"First thing in the morning. I'll call Janine at the lab and have
her clear a spot for us at eight."
"I love having friends in high places."
"I'm assuming that you want this kept as low-key as possible."
"That's okay, you can tell Walter."
Alex was sure that if it hadn't been for the presence of Beth in
the room, he would have, at that very moment, been picking his lover's
teeth up off the floor. Scully's eyes narrowed.
"That wasn't what I was thinking of."
Mulder put his hands up in mock-surrender. "Okay, okay. Just
teasing. You're right, we should keep this as quiet as we can." He
turned to Beth. "I'd like to keep you somewhere safe while all this is
going on. Maybe one of our safe witness residences will be able to take
you in."
"She can stay with me," Scully said.
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked.
"Sure. I've got the room, unlike you. Besides, it'll be nice to
have someone to talk to."
"Is this really necessary? I don't want to put you out."
"I think it would be for the best. Mulder's right, we don't want
anything happening to you before we get some answers."
"All right. Thank you. I can check out right away, I guess."
"Thanks, Scully."
Mulder carried Beth's bags down for her. He was being very solicitous of
her, just like a big brother. Alex took the opportunity, while they were
checking her out, to pull Scully aside.
"So, what do you think?"
"I don't know what to think," she said. "There's something about
her. I can't put my finger on it."
"I know what you mean. I don't know whether to hope or not."
"Well, there's always hope. I just don't him to get crushed again.
Not about this. Not when everything's been going so well."
They turned away from the desk, then, and Alex saw it. Beth smiled
at something that Mulder said, and there it was—the slow, lazy,
full-lipped grin that he knew so well on his lover. He turned to Scully.
She was staring.
"Wow," she said.
"You can say that again. Do me a favor and put a rush on those
tests, okay?"
"Absolutely."
Mulder carried Beth's luggage out to Scully's car and put it in the trunk.
They said their good-byes, and went their separate ways, agreeing to meet
back at their office at the Hoover Building at 7.45 the next morning.
Alex looked over at Mulder. "How are you doing?"
"I have no idea. I'm too afraid to hope for anything. I'm just—numb." He stared out of the window a little while. "She—does she look
like me?"
"I—there's something about her, but I don't know. I don't know
if I'm looking for things that are there, or things that I want to be there.
We just have to take this slow."
"All the things that I thought—of finding her, of getting her
back—I just never thought of what it would really be like. I lost a
ten-year-old sister. She's—this girl—she has lost twelve years of her
life. I mean, I can't imagine. There have been things that I've wanted to
forget, but never that much. Not like that. To not know who you are—"
"It sounds like you want this more for her than you do for you."
"I want it to be her. But even if it is—"
"You might not get any answers."
"No."
"If you don't, will knowing be enough?"
"It'll have to be." He paused, considering. "It will be."
They slid into bed together. It had been easier to wean Mulder off the
couch than Alex had thought it would be. He curled himself around his
lover, who was almost instantly asleep.
Alex's mind was still going. It just seemed too easy. Something
had to be wrong, didn't it? God, he was turning into Mulder. They had
changed roles.
After tossing and turning for half an hour, Alex finally gave up
and carefully got out of bed. He wandered out into the living room and
turned on the tv. He curled into the couch and started flipping channels.
An hour later he was still awake. He was watching some utterly
un-fascinating infomercial about home hair-cutting systems.
"That's supposed to be my job."
Alex almost fell off the couch. "Jesus, Mulder, you scared the
hell out of me!"
"Sorry," he said, sliding in behind him, in his familiar place on
the couch. "What's wrong?"
"I dunno. Can't sleep."
"Funny, I didn't have any trouble."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"Are you upset with me for some reason?"
"No. It's nothing like that."
"Then what?'
He rolled his eyes. "You're going to think this is stupid."
"Well I'll never know until you tell me."
Alex sighed. "Don't you ever feel like we're just tempting fate a
little bit here?"
Mulder gave him a quizzical look.
"I mean, everything's just going a little too well. We're
together, we're happy, nobody's tried to kill us for a while, Dana's
happy, nobody's tried to abduct her, Sam reappears—"
"Maybe."
"Sam maybe reappears. Everything's wonderful."
"And you're waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Uh-huh."
"You know, I never did think I'd find somebody who's more
paranoid than I am."
"Well, I try."
"How about trying to relax a little? Would it make you feel
better if I tried to get shot at work tomorrow?"
"Would you really do that for me?"
"Sure. Anything for you."
They got up to go back into the bedroom. "Baby, you're the
greatest," Alex said, sweeping Mulder into a Ralph Kramden-style hug
and kiss. "Oh, and if you do get shot at, please duck."
Alex woke up the next morning to the feel of a warm mouth on his stomach.
"Mmm," he sighed, "why is early-morning sex always the best?"
"Nice way to wake up?"
"Uh-huh." He tugged Mulder up beside him. "There you are. Hi."
"Hi." They kissed, deeply. Alex pulled him close, feeling the
body that was a familiar to him as his own, sliding his hands down the
muscled back. They rubbed themselves together, slowly, languorously
kissing, fingers twining, sliding over familiar flesh. They touched
each other intimately, re-learning favorite places. Their tongues
tangled together. They never stopped kissing.
Alex came first, rubbing himself up against his lover. His
surprise at the gentle orgasm pushed Mulder over the edge.
"Wow," he panted. "It's a wonder I don't come just looking at you."
"Do you think we're getting too easy?"
"Must be all the phone sex."
Alex looked over at the clock by the bed. "It's after six-thirty.
We're going to have to share the shower."
"Awww."
"To clean ourselves. We have to be there bright and early to
see the doctor." He pulled himself out of the bed, and reached a hand
down to Mulder. "If you're really good, and don't cry, I bet she'll give
you a lolly."
Mulder snorted. "Promise?"
"I'll make sure."
They actually got clean, got dressed, and pulled up in front of the
building by seven forty. When they opened up the office door, Scully
and Beth were already there.
"I forgot to tell you not to eat. I hope you didn't."
"Didn't have time. We had a bit of a late night."
Scully smiled at them. "I'll bet."
Mulder turned to Beth. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," she said. "This is all just a bit—"
"Strange?" Alex offered.
"Definitely. And confusing, and bizarre, and unbelievable—I
could go on forever."
"Well, hopefully, we'll be just a bit closer to getting some
answers today."
"Shall we go, then?" Scully asked.
"I'm game if you are."
"Onward and upward," Beth said.
The tests were quickly taken and sent for processing. Janine promised
to make them her primary focus—hopefully they would have the results
by tomorrow afternoon.
They took Beth back down to the office after they were done. She
looked around at the cluttered office.
"What exactly do you two do?"
The three of them looked at each other. "We investigate unexplained
phemonena," Mulder said, finally.
"Oh." She looked at some of the photos and posters. "Aliens?"
"Sometimes."
She nodded. "You believe in all this, then?"
"Sometimes." He was trying hard not to sound defensive. Scully
was trying to suppress a smile. Alex was looking intently at the floor.
"Do you?"
"Well, I've always thought it was a little conceited to think that
the human race was the only technologically advanced species in the
universe. It's all a little too vast to believe that."
He visibly relaxed. "My thoughts exactly."
"I suppose I should get out of here and let you two get some work
done."
"I doubt if we'll get anything productive done today."
"We have a meeting with Skinner at ten," Scully reminded him.
"Oh, yeah. Damn, I don't even have the report finished."
"I did it last night," Scully said.
"Well, I'm glad one of us is responsible." He turned to Beth.
"Do you have any plans for the day? Have you ever been in D.C. before?"
"No, but there's certainly no lack of things to see here. I'm
sure I can amuse myself."
"I'd be willing to tour guide, if you want," Alex said. He had
a feeling that Mulder would be happier if she weren't left alone.
"That'd be great, thanks," she said, picking up on his look.
"Maybe we could all have lunch together?"
"It's a date," Mulder said.
"I have plans," Scully said, "but I'd love to join you all for
dinner."
Mulder gave her a look. "Maybe we should invite Walter," he said.
"Now, now, you two play nice," Alex laughed. "Come on, Beth, let's
get out of here before the artillary gets pulled out."
The last thing they heard as the door closed was Beth asking Alex,
"Who's Walter?"
They met at another coffeeshop at one. Alex and Beth had visited the
national art gallery that morning, but had spent more time talking than
they did looking at any of the art. He found her to be an interesting
and intelligent conversationalist.
"What did you study in school?" Mulder asked her.
"Physics," she said. "I wanted to study quantum physics in grad
school, but I ended up getting married three months after I got my B.Sc,
and never did go back." She looked a little pained. "My late husband had
money that he inherited when his parents died. We traveled, saw the
country, then other countries. We had a wonderful life together."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not, actually. We only had eight years, but they were
wonderful years. We loved each other a lot. He was a very special man."
"It must have been a shock, though, losing him so young," Alex said.
"Actually, we had more time together than we ever thought we would.
He had Hodgkin's disease. The doctors had given him a death sentence before
we even got married. That's why I didn't go back to school. We wanted to
spend as much time together as possible."
"What happened?"
"He had a bone-marrow transplant and went into remission. It was
almost a miracle. He was so well after that, we just took off and didn't
look back."
"Wow."
"I guess that's why my mourning has been so—'simple' seems like a
stupid way to put it. I mourned him eight years ago when I thought he would
die in the hospital. Then, after I got him back, I promised him I wouldn't
mourn him again, just remember." She shrugged. "It's hard to explain."
"I think I understand," Alex said.
"It's easier when you know they're gone, isn't it?" She directed
this at Mulder. He had been staring at her, then looked away. "It's all
right," she said, smiling, "I've seen you all do it. Do I look like anyone?"
He reached into his suit pocket, pulled two photos out, and laid
them in front of her. "You tell me."
They were of Bill and Sarah Mulder, his parents. They were each
about thirty in the pictures, roughly the same age as Beth now. She picked
them up individually, and looked at them.
"Were you close? Are you close?"
"Yes and no. Things changed after—"
"After she disappeared." She didn't even hesitate on the 'she',
as if there were no connection.
"Yes."
"You blamed yourself."
He said nothing.
"It wasn't your fault." He looked at her. "You were a kid. What
could you have done?"
They stared at each other. This was beginning to creep Alex out.
They were connecting, on some level, that he didn't think that either of
them understood.
"Tell me about her?" she asked. "If it's not too painful."
Alex sat and listened as Mulder told stories about Sam. Teasing,
the long-haired, gangly little girl came to life before them. Beth smiled,
and laughed at some of the pictures he conjured up.
"She sounds like a pain in the butt," she laughed. "She must have
really adored her big brother."
"And I tormented her."
"Nevertheless," she pointed out, "you were fulfilling your job
description." She suddenly sobered. "Oh, my god," she said. "I almost
completely forgot." She grabbed her purse and rummaged around in it.
"Don't tell me I left it in my bag at Dana's," she prayed. She was about
to dump the entire contents out on the table when she found what she was
looking for and pulled it out for them to see.
It was a black-and-white picture, a little wrinkled, of a young
lady in a school uniform in front of a large stone building. It was quite
clear—she was standing in the sun, pale in her dark uniform, with long,
dark braids spilling out of a round straw hat. She was smiling.
It was Sam.
"That was me. It was the first picture that I had of myself,"
she said. "The nuns took one of each of us so we would have something to
take with us—" She looked up and immediately stopped speaking. The
colour had completely drained out of Mulder's face. He stared at the
picture, then bolted from his seat and ran for the bathroom.
Alex found him in one of the stalls, being sick. He wet a paper towel
and brought it in to clean off his lover's face.
"It's her," Mulder said, when he could speak again. "It's her."
Alex was silent.
"I didn't believe it. I didn't believe it. None of it. Even
the look, the records, nothing. It was too easy, just like you said. But
that photo—God, Alex, it's her."
He was shaking. Alex thought he might be sick again, but he took
a few deep breaths and then seemed to calm down a little. He walked over
to the sink.
"The DNA tests will be in tomorrow. We'll know for sure." Mulder
looked at him. "I know you know—I think we all do. But a little concrete
evidence couldn't hurt." He leaned against one of the sinks. "I knew from
the time I first saw her smile—she has your smile. Exactly." He put a
hand on Mulder's back, and they looked at his face in the mirror. Alex
smiled. "Let's go back out. We've probably scared her."
"God, yes, let's go. I can't even imagine what she must be
thinking."
"Probably the same thing we are."
She was sitting at the table, still, with a steamy, creamy-looking cup of
coffee in front of her. At Alex's look she shrugged, "It's a Canadian
thing. Tim Horton's sells more cream and sugar than they do coffee."
She looked at Mulder. "It's me, isn't it?"
He nodded.
She let out a deep breathe. "Damn." She started to cry. "I didn't
mean that in a bad way," she said between sniffles, "but—damn. What do
we do now?"
"I have no idea."
"Okay," she said, pulling herself together. "First we get the test
results. Then, we decide what to do."
"Sounds sensible. Maybe you're not related," Alex joked.
"That bad, huh?"
"Oh yeah."
"Hey!" Mulder objected.
"Yeah," she said, quietly. "Hey."
They both smiled, and Alex was once again caught by the way they
looked. It was the Mulder smile. He hadn't seen nearly enough of it
before, but he had a feeling we was going to see more of it than he ever
thought from now on.
Samantha
by Mona Ramsey
"Hello." I should be getting used to three a.m. calls by now, he thought.
The phrase 'FBI widow' immediately sprang to mind.
