From: "Jim & Carol Gritton" <jimcaz@dircon.co.uk>
Subject: New: Someday We'll Be Together 1/7 by Carol Gritton
Date: Fri, 13 Mar 1998 19:21:25 -0000


TITLE: Someday We'll Be Together 1/7

AUTHOR: Carol Gritton

EMAIL ADDRESS: jimcaz@dircon.co.uk

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter, 1013
Productions and Fox TV.  They are used without permission and no
infringement of copyright is intended.

RATING: NC 17 for sexual content and language

CLASSIFICATION: S, R (Mulder/Other)

KEYWORDS: Alternate universe, post XF

SUMMARY: Fourteen years after the end of his love affair with Scully,
and ensuing abrupt departure from the X Files, a widowed Mulder is
grieving for the loss of his young son.  Choosing to re-enter
Mulder's life at this moment, with the hope of rebuilding their
past friendship, Scully finds herself to be an unwelcome visitor.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: My thanks to Patty for technical advice.  I would
also like to thank her for her considerable input into this story,
her endless support during the writing of it and for urging me on
when I was about to give up.

Chon Bayley Mulder is an amalgam of several friends of my
acquaintance - they know who they are!

Comments gratefully received at the above address.

Someday We'll Be Together 1/7
by Carol Gritton (jimcaz@dircon.co.uk)

The Present
*************

     Mulder opened the drawer in his desk, reaching far into the
back.  He retrieved a brown envelope and set it down in front of him,
then sat back in his chair and gazed out of the window to the wintry
landscape beyond.  It had been many years since he had received that
envelope, and its contents.  He'd recognised the writing straight
away -  the bold, ramrod strokes on the paper testament to her
family's military background.  The contents of the letter were
engraved on his heart - how she had made a mistake in breaking off
their love affair, and how she knew that one day they would be
together again, reunited as one.
     But it had come too late.  After the pain and hurt of rejection
had worn off, Mulder had moved on with his life. He had relocated to
the other side of the country, married and become the proud father of
a son. Her letter had raked it up all over again, and for days,
weeks, there had been an invisible barrier between Mulder and his
wife.  He had been moody and quiet, introspective.  Chon let it ride,
knowing that he would talk about it when he was ready.  He had not
responded to the letter - that part of his life was over.  He did not
wish to reopen old wounds.

     Now she was back, an unwelcome intrusion at a sad and sensitive
time.  Scully had kept herself informed, through their mutual
friends, as to what had been happening in Mulder's life over the
years.  She knew about his marriage to Chon, and the birth of their
son, Michael William Fox Mulder - Mikey, as he was known to his
family and friends.  Chon had been the one to insist on the boy
carrying his father's name, and by all accounts, Mikey was his father
in miniature, and very much loved.
     Scully knew about Chon's death three years previously, and now
she had just found out about the death of Mikey, victim of a drunk
driver.  She knew Mulder would be devastated to have his whole family
wiped out in such a short space of time.  She had stayed away when
Chon died, but now she had to go to him.  He had no one else.

     The house took some finding, but there it was, at the end of a
long, dirt track.  It was not what Scully had expected.  The two
storey house was old, rambling, yet somehow compact.  She suspected
that the outside appearance was deceptive.  As she approached the
front of the house, she saw the basketball hoop attached to the side
wall.  One of the garage doors was open and she could just make out a
shiny blue bike standing inside it.  It had no doubt belonged to
Mikey.
     Scully swung around in front of the house and came to a halt. 
She collected her purse, checked her hair and face in the vanity
mirror, took a deep breath and got out of the car.  Her feet crunched
on the gravel as she walked purposefully to the front door.
     Mulder hadn't seen or heard the car pull up outside.  He was out
in the kitchen, listening to the weather forecast on the radio whilst
preparing a sandwich for his lunch.  He still had to eat, despite the
overwhelming grief he was feeling.  He looked up as the bell sounded,
wondering who could be calling.  Mulder wiped his hands on a cloth
and headed for the front of the house.
     Mulder opened the door, and his face became a cold mask when he
saw her standing there.
     "What do you want?" he asked.
     "I heard about Mikey and I wanted to pay my respects," she
replied.  "I'm so sorry, Mulder."
     "Well, now that you've said what you came to say, you can go." 
He started to close the door in her face.
     "Mulder, wait...  I need to talk to you."
     "I don't think we have anything to say to each other, Scully. 
Please go."
     Scully hadn't expected Mulder to welcome her with open arms, but
the depth of his hostility shook her.  She searched his eyes briefly,
and saw nothing there but cold hatred. Reluctantly, Scully turned and
walked away, the sound of the heavy door closing in her ears.
   Mulder watched her from the living room window as she slowly drove
away, carefully negotiating the potholes in the track that led from
the house to the main road.  He should have known that she'd turn up
one day.  His whereabouts weren't a secret - a few sketchy personal
details were included on the dustcover of the book he had written and
had published, and Chon had been fairly well known in her field.  The
fact that the name Mulder wasn't very common in these parts, and the
book's annotation that `Mr Mulder lives with his wife and son in the
Pacific Northwest,' narrowed the field somewhat should someone take
it into their head to come looking for him.

     She knew he would come.  Fox Mulder was a creature of habit now.
 Scully had been able to find out that every week, without fail, on
the same day and at the same time, Mulder and his son had come to lay
flowers and spend a few quiet minutes at Chon's grave.  The routine
hadn't altered with Mikey's death.  
     As she watched from behind a nearby tree, he crouched down and
laid the fresh flowers, beautiful flowers, on the two graves, one
still heaped with freshly turned earth.  He raised a gloved hand to
his face and wiped at his eyes, banishing the tears that fell so
easily.  How he must have loved them both!  Scully wished that she
had known that love, that Mikey had been a child of their union.
     Mulder looked up to see her coming towards him, and he rose to
his full height.  The cold mask was back in place.
     "What are you doing here, Scully?  What do you want?"  His tone
was as cold as his expression.
     "I don't know, Mulder... I thought that maybe you would need
someone..."
     "Not you, Scully.  You made your feelings clear all those years
ago.  I would prefer it if you would just go, and let me grieve in
private."
     "Mulder..."
     He turned on her angrily.  "Just what is it you want from me,
Scully?  Why did you choose to show up now?  You never came near or
by when Chon died."
     "I didn't think it wise.  You had enough to cope with comforting
Mikey..."
     "And now that he's out of the way it's safe for you to show your
face again, is that it?"  Bitterness  and venom dripped from him as
he spat the words at her, and she recoiled visibly.  "How dare you
use the death of my son to try and ingratiate yourself with me.  I
don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you, and I don't want
your sympathy.  Now please leave - I'd like to spend some time with
my family."
     Once again, he left Scully with no choice but to depart.

     Scully had to try once more - if he turned her away this time,
she would concede defeat and return to DC.
     Mulder saw the familiar rental car pull up from the window in
the den, and headed for the front door.  It flew open, startling her,
just as Scully was about to press the doorbell.
     "You never know when to give up, do you, Scully?"  Mulder loomed
tall and threatening in the doorway.
     "Never take no for an answer - that's something I learned from
you, Mulder," she replied, her eyes locking with his.  They eyed one
another, and she took in the lines around his eyes, etched deeper
than she remembered, and the faint traces of grey in his hair.  Time,
and circumstances, had both taken their toll on him.  Scully's tone
and stance softened - she knew she had to make all the running here. 
"Look, all I want to do is talk.  It would help if you talked..."
     Mulder rounded on her.  "Don't you think I know that, Scully? 
I'll talk when I'm ready, but not to you.  Not to you.  In fact, I
don't even know why you're here, or why you persist in trying to talk
to me.  Are you getting some sort of perverse pleasure out of this? 
Out of seeing my pain?"
     "No, Mulder, that's not why I came.  I realised that you
probably wouldn't see me, or speak with me, but I had to have one
last try before I go home tomorrow."
    "Why, Scully?  What point is there in talking?  It won't change
anything.  If you're looking for forgiveness, you've come to the
wrong place."
     Scully nodded, she might have expected as much. There was no
point in her staying any longer.   "I'm sorry for your loss, Mulder. 
I won't bother you again."
     Mulder studied his former partner and lover as she walked back
to her car, his eyes narrowing a tad, the suspicion always there. 
"Wait."  Mulder sighed - was he about to do something he would come
to regret?  "You'd better come in."  He stood aside and she came into
the house.
     Scully took in her surroundings - the open hall, with the
various rooms leading off, and the splendid wooden staircase.  At
first glance, it appeared that the Mulder family had had a very
comfortable existence.  She'd never have imagined Mulder ending up
somewhere like this.  "Come through to the kitchen."
     Scully followed him into the large kitchen, with its limed pine
cabinets and painted stencils around the tops of the walls.
     "Sit down."  Mulder was aware that it sounded like an order and
he made no apologies for that.  He hadn't asked her to come.  "I'll
make some coffee."
     "Thanks."  Scully laid her purse on the table and removed her
coat before she sat down, then watched Mulder as he moved about the
kitchen. The silence weighed heavily between them. "Mulder,
I really am truly sorry about Mikey."
     "So you said, Scully."  He kept his back to her as he poured hot
water onto the freshly ground coffee.  Chon had always used freshly
ground beans - she loved the smell, and it was something that always
reminded him of her.  Finally the strong brew was ready and he lifted
the tray.  "We'll talk in the den."
     Scully followed him into the cosy den, with its desk and
computer workstation.  One wall was completely lined with books.  
"Where shall I sit?" she asked.  She didn't want to upset him by
sitting in the wrong place.
     "Use the armchair if you like," he answered, indicating the
chair that sat closest to the fireplace.  He poured the coffee and
handed one to Scully.
     "This is a beautiful house, Mulder."
     "Thank you," he replied grudgingly.  "We liked it... it was the
perfect family home.  It needed some work doing when we bought it,
but it had such potential.  Chon wanted somewhere safe, away from the
city, to raise Mikey - this was ideal.  All this open space, he loved
it.  Mikey was a real country boy."  Mulder smiled at the memory of
his son.  "Once the place was habitable, Chon set about decorating
and furnishing it... being an artist, she had that knack of looking
at a blank canvas and seeing the finished picture before she'd even
lifted a paintbrush.  It was the same with the rooms in the house. 
She could look at the empty room and visualise it..."  He trailed
off, tears filling his eyes.
     "I'm sorry, Mulder - I didn't mean to upset you."
     "You've already done that by coming here," he answered coldly.  
    At least this time he hadn't told her to leave.  Scully's eyes
fell on the narrow gold band that adorned his ring finger.  "Tell me
about Chon," she said softly.
     "Oh, come on, Scully!" snorted Mulder.  "What can I possibly
tell you that you don't already know?  I know you've been keeping
tabs on me over the years."  He smirked at her look of surprise and
her apparent discomfort.  "What?  Did you think I wouldn't find out? 
You forgot who you were dealing with, Agent Scully."
     The use of her old title, and the way it was spoken, made her
smart.
    "You must have seen Chon's picture in the paper now and again."
     "Yes, I did, but that didn't tell me anything about her, about
what she was like, other than the usual publicity spiel.  I know from
her photographs that she was beautiful..." 
     "Yes, she was," answered Mulder wistfully.  "Chon was beautiful,
both inside and out.  She was kind of heart, generous of spirit, and
I loved - I love her very much."  He twisted the ring on his finger. 
"She taught me a lot; about love, about acceptance, about dignity. 
When she died, I truly felt that I had lost my heart, my reason to
live.  If it hadn't been for Mikey, I don't think I would be here
today.  He needed me, and now he's gone, too..."
     "Is that one of Chon's?" asked Scully, her eyes going to the
small portrait that hung above Mulder's desk in his den.
     "Yeah, that's Mikey.  He must have been around eight when she
painted that, about a year before she died."
     "He looks like a great kid."  Scully could see the devilish
sparkle in the boy's eye, just as she'd seen it so often in Mulder's.
 Chon had captured her subject well.
     "He was.  Never gave us any trouble, did his chores without
complaint.  He was real smart, and a good athlete."
     "Well, I guess those parts of his make up were a given with you
for a father.  You must have been very proud of him."  She saw the
undeniable love and pride in his face. 
     "I was.  I was proud of both of them."
     "Tell me about them, Mulder," she asked softly.  "Please."
     Mulder hesitated, gave her a suspicious look then took a breath.
 "I don't suppose you'll be  surprised to hear that we didn't meet in
the conventional way..."
     
The Past
**********

     Mulder's relocation had taken him to the Seattle field office
and back into profiling.  To say that they were pleased to get him,
with his formidable skill in that area, and the success it brought
with it, was an understatement.  Mulder had thrown himself into the
work with a vengeance, and the solve rate for the Seattle office went
through the roof.  He worked all the hours God sent, going home
exhausted to his lonely apartment night after night.  Here, as in
Washington, Mulder had few, if any, friends.  Other than the
different location, life was very much the same as it always had
been.  And then he'd met Chon.
     The circumstances of their meeting were hardly auspicious -
through a combination of fatigue and too many long hours on his part,
and inattention on hers, Mulder had almost knocked Chon over when she
stepped out in front of his car one wet morning.  All Mulder saw was
a dark blur pass in front of his windshield, too close for comfort. 
He slammed on his brakes with a muttered, "Oh, shit," and jumped out
of the car, hurrying to her assistance.
     "Are you all right?  Are you hurt?"  A deep frown of concern
etched itself on Mulder's brow. Oh, God - speak to me, he thought to
himself.  Let me know that you're all right.  She was rubbing her
thigh, and grimacing.  
     "I'm fine, I'm fine... just bruised," answered the woman.
     "And a little shocked, I think," said Mulder, giving her the
hint of a friendly smile.  He hadn't realised that he'd actually
clipped her.  She looked a trifle wan, and Mulder put out a hand to
steady her.  She clutched at his arm, holding it in a firm grip.  Her
heart was thudding in her chest like an express train. 
     "Thank you.  I'll be fine in just a moment."  She took several
deep breaths, letting them out slowly, then glanced down at the large
black portfolio lying on the tarmac.
     "Here, let me."  Mulder bent down and picked up the now wet case
- the sort that usually held plans or drawings - and rested it
against the wing of his car.  He glanced behind him, seeing a line of
 traffic beginning to build.  What with that and the steady drizzle,
it was time to get out of there.  "Let me take you to the hospital."
     "No, I'm fine now," replied the woman.  She had the warmest,
darkest brown eyes he'd ever seen.  And she was still holding onto
his arm.
     "I really think we should go to the hospital, get you checked
over."
     "Really, there's no need.  I'm perfectly all right."
     "Then let me take you home."  He gave her a reassuring smile at
her look of alarm.  "It's okay - I'm with the FBI."  Mulder flashed
her his badge and ID.  "You can call them and double check if you
like."  Behind them, a chorus of impatient drivers began honking on
their horns. 
     "I'll take your word for it."  She smiled, and let go of his
arm.  "Something tells me we've overstayed our welcome here anyway."
      Mulder went around to the passenger side and opened the door
for her.  After making sure she was settled in her seat, he stowed
her portfolio in the back and slid into the driver's side.
     "So where can I take you?"
     "I'll direct you."

     By the time they reached her apartment, they at least knew one
another's names.  Mulder followed Chon Bayley into the lobby, her
portfolio in his hand.  The elevator took them to the third floor,
and her apartment was situated at the end of the passage.  Once
inside, Mulder's eye was immediately caught by an artist's easel that
was standing near the window, covered with a large dust sheet; and
the piles of canvases stacked against the pale creamy walls. 
     "You're an artist?" he asked.
     "Yes.  I was just on my way back from an appointment with a
gallery when we collided."
     "I'm sorry about that.  I'm not usually in the habit of running
innocent people down."  He gave her a small, lopsided smile.  "My
work's been a little intense lately - I guess my mind was momentarily
elsewhere.  I was miles away when I should have been paying
attention."
     "Yeah, me too."  Chon swept her long dark hair behind her ears. 
"Look, it wasn't all your fault.  If anything I'm to blame for
stepping out in front of you like that.  I don't make a habit of it,
I can assure you!"  Chon gave him a warm smile.  "I'm afraid my head
was still full of the meeting I'd just come from."
     "Well, if you're sure you're all right, I'd better be on my
way."  Mulder half turned to head for the door.
     "Wait!  You must think I'm terrible, completely without manners.
 At least let me offer you a coffee."
     Mulder thought for a minute.  He was tired after another all
night session at the office and he needed to sleep.  However...  He
nodded.  "Thank you, I'd like that."
     "Good.  Why don't you take your coat off and make yourself
comfortable?  If you want to hang it up, there's a rack near the
door."
     As Chon busied herself in the small kitchen, Mulder wandered
around the room, peeking at several of the canvases.  There was a
mixture of subjects; landscapes, seascapes, portraits, still life,
and they were done in either oils or watercolour.  They were all
exceptionally well executed.  Mulder lifted a canvas of a half naked
woman, her long, honey coloured hair tumbling down her back.
     "That was one of the first paintings I ever did with a model." 
Chon came in carrying a tray with a pot of coffee, two matching glass
cups and a small plate of biscotti, startling Mulder.  He almost
dropped the painting.
     "It's good.  I like the way you've painted her hair... I feel as
if I want to run my fingers through it."  He blushed when he realised
what he'd said.  "Sorry.  I didn't mean to get carried away."  He put
the painting back where he had found it before he got into any more
trouble.
     "Do you have much of an eye for art?" asked Chon, pouring the
coffee.  Mulder declined cream and sugar, but did help himself to a
biscotti.  It had been hours since he'd last eaten.
      "No," he smiled.  "I guess I'm like most people - I know what I
like, and that's about it."  He sipped the bitter brew.  "Do you sell
much of your work?"
     "Enough to get by.  I have to pay the rent somehow!"
     "So how do you go about selling a painting?"
     "I started off at craft fairs, then I sold a few by word of
mouth.  I've even had a stall at Pike Place Market before now. 
That's quite a good place to sell, with all the tourists that visit."
    "And now you're about to have your own showing at a gallery?"
smiled Mulder.
     "Not yet, but one day, I hope.  They're planning to mount an
exhibition of unknown artists' work and I was invited to submit some
of my pieces for possible inclusion.  They're going to let me know."
     "Well, I wish you luck."  He gave her a warm smile.
     "So what about you, Mr Mulder?  What do you do when you're not
running down innocent women?"
     "It's just Mulder," he answered, noting the twinkling of her
eyes.  "I'm with the FBI, as I said, working out of the Seattle
office.  I've only been here a few months.  I was in DC before that."
     "What made you come all the way out here?"
     "Personal reasons."
     Chon sensed that was all she was going to get out of him on that
subject.  "So what exactly is it that you do with the FBI?"
     "I write the profiles that catch the bad guys," he replied.
     "Are you good at it?" asked Chon.
     "My bosses seem to think so."  He smiled again.
     "Ah, you're being modest, I can tell!"  Chon matched his smile
with one of her own, revealing small, pearly white teeth.  They
chatted on for a while, pleasantries mostly, then Chon stood up,
with, it seemed to Mulder, a hint of stiffness.  Her hand went to the
spot on her leg that had connected with his car.  It felt bruised and
painful.
     "Are you in pain?" he asked, reaching out.  "You should have let
me take you to the hospital."
     "It's just badly bruised.  It'll be fine in a few days."
     "I still feel bad about what happened."  Mulder stood and ran a
hand through his hair. He didn't feel that he could just leave
without knowing that she was all right.  "Can I at least buy you
dinner?"
     Chon considered for a moment.  She'd rather like that.  She
hunted for a piece of paper and scribbled down her number.  "Call
me," she said, handing it to Mulder, who tucked it into his wallet
before taking his leave.

End of Part One


Someday We'll Be Together 2/7
by Carol Gritton (jimcaz@dircon.co.uk)

     Despite his best intentions, nearly a week passed before Mulder
called her, full of apologies.  Chon hadn't really expected to hear
from him again, although he didn't seem the type  to issue a dinner
invitation and then not follow through.  She had more or less put him
out of her mind, so it had been a pleasant surprise, therefore, when
he called to enquire how she was and to arrange their dinner date. 
     Mulder let Chon pick the venue, and she chose a seafood
restaurant.  Over dinner, the conversation flowed easily as they
discovered a little more about one another.  Even so, Chon had the
distinct impression that Mulder was learning more about her than she
was about him.
     "Chon's an unusual name," said Mulder, his fork sinking into an
alder smoked salmon steak stuffed with prawns.
     "It's short for Chontella.  My heritage is something of a
mixture - part French, part Louisiana Cajun, with a little bit of the
orient thrown in for good measure."  She speared a scallop.  "And
speaking of unusual names... where does Fox come from?"
     "Well, nowhere as exotic as your name!"  He grimaced.  "It's an
old family name on my mother's side.  Every time I have to introduce
myself to someone new, I see this look steal across the person's
face, as if to ask what I'd ever done to deserve a name like that."
     "You'll hate me for this, but I rather like it," replied Chon. 
She took a sip of wine from her glass, her eyes meeting his across
the rim.  "And if we're going to be friends, I insist that you let me
call you Fox."
     "Are we going to be friends?" he asked, his eyes holding hers,
his tone low and silky.
     "I'd like to be.  Just because you tried to run me down, I won't
hold it against you."  Her lovely eyes twinkled.
     "Well, I'm relieved to hear that."
     "So, can I call you Fox?"
     "Do I have any choice in the matter?"
     Chon, smiling, shook her head.
     "Then I guess you can call me Fox," sighed Mulder.  Little did
he know then that one day he would yearn to hear his name upon her
lips.

     Later, during the course of conversation, Chon had again
broached the subject of why Mulder had left DC.  Immediately, the
walls had slammed down.  He stared past her, his eyes full of pain.
     "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked.  It's not really any of my
business," she said.
     "No... I'm sorry.  I guess I'm just not ready to talk about it,"
answered Mulder.  Whoever she was, mused Chon, she must have hurt him
badly.  Gathering himself, he looked up at her and smiled.  "Did you
hear from the gallery yet?"
    At that, Chon became excited.  She'd been bursting to tell
someone the news.  "Yes - they called yesterday.  They want to
exhibit two of my pieces."
     "That's great!  I'm really pleased for you.  Why didn't you tell
me before?  We could have made this a celebration dinner!"
     "Well, you're the first person I've told."  A pause.  "Actually,
you're the only person I've told."
     "I'm honoured," smiled Mulder.  "Which pieces did they choose?"
     "A landscape and a still life."
     "I'd like to see them some time."  He drained the remains of his
wine, and toyed with the empty glass.  "You know, you don't really
fit the profile of an artist."
     "And just what is the profile of an artist?" asked Chon.  "Some
poor, starving devil that lives in a garret, and walks around wearing
a voluminous smock and a silly hat, carrying a palette in one hand
and flourishing a brush in the other?"  She grinned as she said it,
revealing her gleaming white teeth.  "That's a rather stereotypical
view, and one that's about a hundred years out of date!"
     "Well, that shows you how many artists I've known in my time,"
laughed Mulder.  "So what do you wear when you paint?"
     "Jeans and an old shirt usually."
     Mulder was nodding his head slowly.  "Yeah... I can see that. 
You don't really look the smock and hat type!"  He gave her a big
grin, and they laughed together.

     They saw one another several times, Mulder's work permitting,
over the next few weeks.  Chon brought a breath of fresh air to
Mulder's otherwise sorry existence.  He loved her vibrancy and
enthusiasm, her openness and her wonderful smile.  She had the
friendliest smile he had ever seen, and it was never forced. With
Chon, what you saw was what you got, and being with her made him
forget, albeit temporarily, the horrors that he came across in his
work.  At last Mulder felt as if he were able to start living again,
his growing affection for Chon helping to expunge the pain that had
caused him to leave Washington.

      Chon dashed the short distance from Mulder's car to the lobby
of her apartment block, trying desperately to shield herself from the
pouring rain, but failing miserably.  Mulder followed quickly, giving
silent thanks to the person who had invented the electronic locking
system as he pointed his key at the car. 
     "God, why did I move here?" sighed Mulder as he joined Chon in
the elevator.  "It never stops raining!"
     "That's not true, Fox.  It's a myth that it rains 365 days a
year in Seattle.  Besides," Chon added with a smile, "if it hadn't
been for the rain, I'd never have met you."
     Mulder humphed.  "Is that a good thing?"
     "What?  Meeting you?"  Another smile, and this time, the pearly
white teeth almost dazzled him.  "I think so."  Chon inserted her key
into her door and Mulder followed her into the apartment. 
Immediately, he picked up the smell that he would forever associate
with her, since the day they'd first met.  Linseed oil.
     "You don't really know me," he answered, closing the door behind
him and locking it.  And why is that? he asked himself.  Because you
choose not to tell her, came the answer.  He knew it wasn't fair to
Chon, but he wasn't ready to bring down his carefully constructed
barriers and let her in.  He'd been hurt too many times in the past
to go jumping in with both feet again.
     Chon came out of the bathroom carrying two clean towels, one of
which she handed to him.  "Here, Fox Mulder, Man of Mystery - use
this to dry your hair.  You'd better take that jacket off... I'll
hang it up to dry.  I don't want you catching pneumonia."
     "It's just a little damp, that's all."
     "Even so, I'd rather you took it off and left it to dry."  Chon
was holding out her hand for the jacket.
     "It'll take hours," protested Mulder.
     "You're not planning on going anywhere in a hurry, are you?" she
asked.
     "No, but..."
     "Just give me the jacket, Fox."  At last he complied.  "Thank
you.  That was quite painless, wasn't it?  Why don't you start the
coffee while I find a hanger for this?"
     Chon seemed to have been gone forever.  The coffee had brewed,
and Mulder wandered around the living room, idly picking things up,
examining them and putting them down again.  The room was sparsely
furnished - a small two seater sofa and one armchair, a bookcase that
held, apart from numerous art books, a CD player and a rack of
compact discs; a little end table that carried a portable tv. She
seemed to like the minimalist approach.  A couple of large pot plants
added greenery, but the thing that dominated the room was the easel. 
     Mulder imagined that Chon wouldn't be out of place in a
Manhattan loft. Several of her paintings adorned the pale cream walls
- smaller studies, mostly watercolours.  One that he particularly
liked was of tulips in a glass vase - it was elegant in its
simplicity.  The mixture of blooms, one lot a sugar pink and the
other a pale darkish mauve, were so lifelike.
    
     "Why do you do that?"
     Mulder jumped visibly at the sound of her voice.  "You know,
you're very adept at sneaking up on people and scaring them half to
death," he grumbled, remembering the same thing happening on his
first visit to her apartment.  He swallowed when he saw that Chon had
changed out of her damp clothing into a full length, deep red satin
robe.  He swallowed again when he realised that he must have been
gawking at her like a drooling, hormonally challenged schoolboy. 
Chon obviously found it mildly amusing, judging by the upturned
corners of her mouth.   "Why do I do what?" he asked, suddenly
remembering her question.
     "Wander round and touch things," Chon replied.  She had come
from the bedroom, cinching the belt of her robe as she walked, and
seen him through the doorway.  He hadn't seen her, so she stepped
back and watched him for a few moments.  He didn't just pick an item
up and put it straight down again - he studied it, ran his fingers
over it, almost as if he were caressing it.
     "I can't help it," he answered, an apologetic smile on his face.
 "It's habit, I'm afraid.  It helps me to get the feel of a person...
you can tell a lot about someone by the things they surround
themselves with."
     "Oh God, don't start analysing me," snorted Chon, heading for
the kitchen, her robe rustling as she moved.
     "Why not?" chuckled Mulder, moving over to the sofa.  "Are you
afraid of what my analysis might reveal?"  He leaned over and picked
up the sketch pad that rested against the side of it.
     "Of course not," Chon called out, as she poured the coffee into
two mugs.
     Mulder opened the sketch pad, and his mouth dropped open as he
came face to face with a rough charcoal portrait of himself.  He
turned to the next sheet, and found sketches of different parts of
his face.  His eyes, his mouth, a half face, a profile.  He looked up
as Chon came back into the room.
     "I see you found my sketch pad," she said, placing the mugs on a
small end table and taking the armchair.  She curled her legs under
her as she sat down, arranging the robe about them.  "What do you
think?"
     "You've been busy," replied Mulder.  He studied the sketches
again, this time in more detail.  "You did these from memory?"
     "Yes."  Chon lifted her coffee mug and watched him over the rim
as she drank from it.
     "They're very good."  Do I really look like this? Mulder asked
himself silently, studying the soulful picture that stared back at
him from the page in front of him.  "Why on earth would you want to
draw me?"
     "Because you have an interesting face."  Chon had taken the time
to study him, mostly when he wasn't looking.  There were times when
he wore the saddest expression, when his eyes were full of pain.  She
wondered what had happened in his past, what secrets he was holding
inside.
     "I do?"  Mulder's face held an expression of disbelief.
     Chon nodded enthusiastically.  "It's so full of character and
emotion.  In fact, I'd like you to sit for me.  I'd like to paint
you."
     Mulder spluttered into his coffee.  "I don't know, Chon..."
     "What's there to know, Fox?  I just want to do a head and
shoulders portrait, that's all."
     "But why?  Why me?"
     "Why did Da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa?"  Chon leaned forward,
her hand resting lightly on his knee.  "I told you - you have an
interesting face.  Would you at least think about it, Fox?"
     He nodded slowly, not quite sure if he wanted his mournful
visage captured for posterity and displayed in years to come for
people to goggle at.  Mulder was flattered that she'd asked - who
wouldn't be?  "I'll think about it, but I'm not promising anything."
     "That's just fine, Fox - that's all I'm asking."

     Mulder found it hard not to stare at the smooth legs revealed to
him when Chon's robe fell open as she unhooked her legs from under
her and stood up.  
     "I'll make a fresh pot of coffee.  You can put some music on if
you like... it's mostly classical.  I like to listen to it when I'm
painting."  With that, she picked up the coffee mugs and headed for
the kitchen.
     Mulder didn't get as far as the compact discs.  He stopped by
the easel, intrigued to know what was underneath the dustsheet that
covered it.  He lifted it a little - Chon was working on a landscape,
in oils, if he wasn't mistaken.  The fact that a box full of tubes
of oil paint was beside the easel rather gave it away.  Mulder dipped
into the box and brought out one of the tubes.
     "Prussian Blue," he said softly to himself as he unscrewed the
top.  Mulder brought the paint closer to better examine the colour. 
He didn't realise that he was squeezing the bottom of the tube until
there was a soft puff of air and a few tiny spots of paint sprayed
out, landing on his chin, followed by a larger blob that squirted out
and landed on his shirt.  "Shit!"
     Mulder's loud exclamation brought Chon back into the room. 
"What's the matter?" she asked. Mulder stood there, looking helpless,
an open tube of paint in one hand and pointing to the dark blob on
his shirt with the other.   "Oh, Fox!  That paint won't come out! 
Quick, let's try and get it off."  She looked up into his face and
chuckled.
     "What?" 
     "Did you know you even have a few spots of paint on your face?"
     "Will it come off?" he asked with a hint of desperation.  He had
visions of walking around with a blue chin for the rest of his life.
     "Yes.  Just wait there while I get a cloth."  Chon ran out to
the kitchen and grabbed several paper towels as well as a clean, dry
cloth.  She poured a little odourless turpenoid onto the cloth and
proceeded to gently wipe away the paint spots on his chin.  "There,
all done.  You scrub up really well.  Let's have a go at the shirt." 
Chon scraped off most of the paint, but it had left a nasty mark on
the fabric.  She dabbed at it with the damp cloth but it wasn't going
to shift.
     "It's okay, Chon, leave it.  It's my own fault for touching
something that doesn't belong to me.  I knew that habit would get me
into trouble one day."  He gave her a lopsided grin.
     "But your shirt, Fox..."  Chon was still trying to get the mark
out, and he covered her hands with his.
     "Chon, it doesn't matter," he said softly.  He tilted her chin
upwards.  "It doesn't matter."
     "Fox..."
     "Sshh..."  And then his lips were on hers, tentative at first,
and as he realised that she wasn't going to push him away, he became
a little bolder, his tongue stroking gently around her mouth and over
her teeth.  It was the sweetest feeling.  Mulder dropped to the stool
behind him - the stool that Chon sat on when she painted, and he drew
her forward to stand between his open thighs.  His hands moved over
her satin clothed shoulders, down her back, over the flare of her
hips, into the curve of her waist and out again, back up to her
shoulders.  She was warm and soft, and it had been a long time since
he'd held and kissed a woman, drank in that feminine fragrance.
     As they broke apart, Chon's arms remained draped around his
neck, their foreheads touching.
    "What are you thinking?" asked Mulder, his voice low and gruff.
     "That it took a while, but it was worth waiting for," she
answered softly.  Mulder gave a low chuckle, his hands running over
her back.
     "I haven't even begun yet," he said tantalisingly.  "That was
just for starters."  He kissed her brow.  "I told you I wasn't
planning on going anywhere in a hurry."
     Chon brushed her cheek against his.  "Then shall we make
ourselves more comfortable in the bedroom?"

     Chon woke the next morning to find Mulder wrapped possessively
around her.  She took a moment to orient herself, then the memories
of the night before came flooding back.  How they had explored every
inch of one another's body, learning the parts and the moves that
gave the other the most pleasure.  How Mulder's thumbs had brushed
back and forth over her nipples, making her wonder what his mouth
would feel like on those same sensitive parts of her body.  And when
the tip of his tongue finally circled those tiny peaks, it was all
Chon could do not to scream out.
     "What's this?" Chon had asked, touching the small circle of
puckered skin below his left shoulder.
     "Someone shot me," he'd replied.  To save you from yourself, a
little voice in his head had said.
     "And this?"  Touching the old scar on his left thigh.
     "Another gunshot... I nearly lost my leg with that one."
     Chon had bathed every scar, every old injury with tiny, feathery
kisses, ending up with the one on his thigh.  Her dark hair had lain
across his groin and felt like silk against his skin.  And when they
had finally come together as one, it had been better than Chon could
ever have imagined.  No man had ever made her feel the way that
Mulder did.  After, they had lain together in the darkness, cuddling,
exchanging soft words punctuated by warm kisses, until sleep had
eventually claimed them.
  
     Softness and warmth.  A musky, feminine fragrance.  Mulder
slowly opened his eyes to find that he wasn't alone and he wasn't in
his own bed.  Then it all came back in a rush.  The feel of those
soft curves beneath him, the touch of her lips upon his skin, the way
her hair brushed across his most sensitive organ, and the way she had
cried out when she came.  It had felt so good to be held and touched
and loved.  He deserved that, didn't he?  He deserved the same chance
of happiness that everyone else had, didn't he?
     His train of thought was interrupted by Chon shifting in his
arms.  "You're awake," he said softly, loosening his hold on her.
     "And so are you, by the feel of it," she replied, with a hint of
amusement in her tone.  His morning erection had been pressing into
her for the past few minutes.
     Behind her, Mulder blushed.  "Sorry.  You just can't take me
anywhere."  A soft chuckle rumbled in Chon's chest.  He moved her
hair to the side and skimmed the back of her neck with his lips,
feeling her tremble.
     "Don't be sorry.  Did you sleep well?"
     "Yes, thank you.  I always sleep well after making love.  How
about you?"  His hands covered her breasts and she pressed into them,
sighing.
     "Wonderful."  Chon turned to face him, reached down and curled a
hand around his penis.  She moved her hand slowly up and down, her
thumb circling the tip.  "What say we take care of this?" she
breathed. 
     He covered her hand with one of his own.   "You're not ready..."
     Chon guided his free hand to her centre, and his fingers met the
warm moistness there.  "That's what lying here thinking about you for
the last half hour does for me.  I'm more than ready, Fox."
     "So you are."  Even though he liked to spend time on foreplay,
he was willing to forego it on this occasion.
     "Then let's get on with it," smiled Chon, pushing him onto his
back.

     She lowered herself onto him, her hands resting lightly on his
chest for balance.  Mulder glanced up at her - she was magnificent. 
Her smooth, long, almost ebony hair hung over her shoulders, just
skimming her breasts, and her cat like eyes were dark and smoky with
passion.  Then she began to move slowly up and down.  The sensation
of her surrounding him was too good.  Mulder smiled and closed his
eyes, just letting the feelings take over.
     "Don't think you can lie there while I do all the work."
     His eyes flew open.  "What would you like me to do?"
     "Touch my breasts."  Mulder's palms moved in circles over her
nipples.  "Oh yeah... I like that..."  She concentrated on the
pleasure she was receiving from his hands for a moment, then, "I'd
like you to come to the art exhibition with me, Fox.  Would you do
that?"
     "I notice you waited until you had me captive before you asked
me," he grinned.  Chon gave a little yelp as he thrust up into her
and connected with a particularly sensitive spot inside her.       
"Oh... right there, right there!"
     "Where?  Here?"  His hands anchored her hips as he thrust up
again, with a little more force the second time.
     "Uhnn... oh... that's it, that's it!"  A tiny moan of pleasure
escaped her.  "So will you come?"  Chon leaned down to kiss him as
her internal muscles started to squeeze him.
     "Sooner than you think..." he blurted as he erupted inside her.
     Chon was huddled against him, still straddling his slim hips, as
they came down from their climaxes.  Mulder had one hand resting on
her damp back, and a forearm across his eyes.
     "Fox?" she enquired softly.  "Will you escort me to the
showing?"
     "Do you want me to?"
     "Yes, I do.  Despite the unfortunate circumstances of our
meeting, I feel that you're something of a good luck charm for me."  
     A good luck charm was the last thing Mulder considered himself
to be.  "I don't have to wear  a tux, do I?" he asked, one eye
peeking out from beneath his arm.  "I hate wearing a tux."
     "No, an ordinary suit will do.  It's not that grand an occasion.
 Does that mean you'll come with me?"
     "Didn't I just do that?"  Chon saw the grin spread slowly across
his face, and she prodded him in the ribs.  "Ow!  That hurt!"
     "Don't you ever give a straight answer?"  She went to move off
him, but he held her fast.
     "Not if I can help it.  As to whether I'll escort you to the
showing, the answer is `yes.'  It would be my pleasure."
     Chon kissed him and hugged him.  He was a strange one, that was
for sure.  One thing she did know was that her life had irrevocably
changed the day Fox Mulder had walked into it, and that her destiny
was somehow tied up with him.

End of Part Two

    

Someday We'll Be Together 3/7
by Carol Gritton (jimcaz@dircon.co.uk)

     Chon looked wonderful in a simple but elegant black dress, her
hair piled on top of her head with a few loose tendrils framing her
face.  She moved among the other guests at the showing with ease,
stopping to exchange a few words here and there, or accept a
compliment or two on her paintings.  All the other exhibitors were
there, but of them all, Chon was the least nervous.  For someone who
was showing at her first major exhibition, Chon was remarkably calm
and poised.
     "How are you doing?" asked Mulder as he handed her a glass of
white wine.
     "Just fine."  She leaned in to him and said, in a low voice,
"You see that tall man over there, with the grey hair?  I think he's
interested in buying my landscape."
     "That's wonderful.  Congratulations."  Mulder wrapped an arm
around her waist and kissed her temple.  He hadn't realised that the
paintings were also for sale.
     "Well, I haven't actually sold it yet, Fox."
     "You will," he answered confidently.
     "You're sure of that, are you?"
     "Quite sure," he whispered in her ear.  The fact that the grey
haired man was heading their way more or less clinched it.  "You want
me to disappear while you talk business?"
     "No, of course not.  Stay here."  Chon squeezed his hand.  "You
never know, he might decide to buy the still life as well."
     Chon could hardly contain herself.  He not only bought the
landscape, but wanted to see more of her work with a view to showing
it in another gallery.  He handed her a business card, which she
tucked into her purse, and asked her to call and arrange a convenient
time to show him some of her other work.

     "You're very quiet," remarked Mulder, as he drove them back to
Chon's apartment.  He glanced sideways at her, she was sitting with
her hands in her lap and her head back against the headrest.
     "I was just thinking about my painting," she sighed.  "There's a
part of me that's sad to see it go."
     "I thought you'd be pleased that you'd sold it."
     "Don't misunderstand me, I am.  I'm thrilled, but it's like
saying goodbye to an old friend.  You spend so long working on
something, then one day it's gone.  And although I love the thought
that someone likes my work and enjoys it enough to want to buy it, I
never feel that they will have the same emotions for it that I do." 
Chon looked across at him.  "Does that make sense, Fox?  It's such a
confusing feeling."
     "I think it makes perfect sense," he replied.  "If  you've
invested a lot of time and effort in the project, it's only natural
to feel a certain amount of sadness when it comes to an end."
     Chon looked down at her fingernails.  "I guess so."
     Mulder regarded her again.  "So what are you going to do with
this windfall?"
     "Get myself a new draughting table for the watercolour work.  My
old one is a bit rickety.  Not surprising really - I think it was
second or third hand when I bought it.  The rest I'll save."
     "Sounds like a good idea."
     "I'm glad it meets with your approval," smiled Chon.

     Their relationship went from strength to strength over the
following months.  Mulder accompanied Chon on her sketching trips
whenever he could.  With him owning a car, she was able to venture
further afield and find new subject matter to work on.  Chon didn't
possess a car - all her spare money went on supplies for her
painting, and they didn't come cheap, as Mulder came to find out. 
She was slowly educating him in the world of art and painting, and he
was a willing pupil - he knew it was important to her, and he wanted
to be able to share with her the enjoyment and appreciation of the
subject.
     Mulder followed her through the door of the art shop.  She was
obviously a regular customer because she greeted the young man behind
the counter like an old friend.
     "What are we looking for?" asked Mulder.
     "I need a couple of new brushes," Chon replied.  She made a
beeline for the brush display against the far wall and picked out an
ideal looking specimen.
     "Is that sable?" asked Mulder.  Chon had told him that the best
quality brushes were made from sable, and she always tried to buy
sable if she could, although if money was tight, she would opt for a
substitute.
     "Yes.  Feel how fine it is."
     Mulder picked up one of the brushes and swept the bristles over
the back of his hand.  Then his eye caught the price ticket.  "Forty
dollars!" he exclaimed loudly.  "Chon - is that right?  It must be a
mistake."  He couldn't believe that a simple paintbrush could cost so
much.
    Chon confirmed his worst fears.  "That's right, Fox.  I told you
it's the best that money can buy, and as such, you have to be
prepared to pay for it." 
     Mulder knew then that for Chon, her painting was a serious
matter and not just something she dabbled in for the fun of it.  To
be a first rate craftsman, it was no good using second rate
equipment.
     "Let me buy it for you," he said.
     "No, Fox.  I can buy my own equipment."
     "Please, Chon - I want to, as a gift."
     "Why?"
     "Think of it as my small contribution towards your eventual fame
and fortune!" he smiled, his fingers running lightly up and down her
back.  "Besides, if we're to have any future together I'm going to
have to get used to spending that sort of money on a mere brush!"  He
was teasing her, and she knew it.
     Chon tapped him on the chest with the brush.  "You never know -
one day this `mere brush' might earn me thousands of dollars!"  
     "I'm counting on it!" he grinned.  
     Chon laughed and shook her head at his cheek, then reached out,
toying with the front of his leather jacket. She looked up at him
from beneath her lashes.  
     "Do we have a future together, Fox?" Chon asked.
     "I don't know - do we?"  His eyes held hers, but she was unable
to read him.  Chon tore her eyes away.
    "I need some paper..." she mumbled.  Moving across to the paper
display, she selected some 140wt watercolour paper.  "That's it, I'm
done."
     Mulder paid for the goods and they left the store.  When they
reached her apartment, they would have to talk.

The Present
*************

     "When did you decide to get married?" asked Scully.
     "When Chon told me that she was pregnant," replied Mulder. 
Scully's look was one of surprise, and he could see exactly what she
was thinking. "I'll save you the trouble of asking, Scully.  How do
you think it happened?"  Sarcasm dripped from him as he faced her
across the den, then Mulder abruptly stood up and gazed out of the
window, his arms wrapped around his chest.  "Chon had been ill...
she'd picked up some stomach bug.  Whatever went in came straight out
again.  I suppose we should have used condoms on top of the pill, to
be extra safe, but you don't always think of these things until it's
too late."
     "It must have been a shock, especially as you obviously weren't
planning for a baby.  How did you feel when it happened?"
      "It happened and once it had happened there was no going back."
 Mulder was still gazing out of the window.  In the far recesses of
his mind, he could hear Chon saying the words, and the way he'd stood
there, naked and shocked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish
as the enormity of what she'd just told him sunk in.  "How did I feel
about it?  It scared the shit out of me.  Believe me, I'm not proud
of the way I reacted initially.  I didn't handle it at all well."
     "What happened?"
     "I ran.  I felt the walls closing in on me and I had to get
out."

The Past
**********

     Mulder had driven for miles, not really knowing where he was
going, before finally coming to a stop.  He slumped forward, his head
resting on the steering wheel.  Hot tears stung his eyes, and he
cursed himself for being such a coward.  How could he have run like
that?  What sort of impression did that give Chon as to the mettle
and backbone of her baby's father?  Mulder wiped the back of his hand
across his eyes and sniffed.  Her baby.  Only it wasn't her baby, it
was their baby.  His baby.  My baby.  Something - someone - they had
created together.  A new life.
     Mulder knew nothing about babies, about being a father.  Indeed,
what sort of a father would he make?  His own father hadn't set a
very good example, that was for sure.  Mulder didn't want to be like
that.  He wanted his child to be able to come to him at any time,
with any problem - he would never turn his child away, or tell him or
her to come back later because he was busy.  He didn't want to be a
distant father.  The thought of being a parent struck terror into his
heart.
      Mulder took a deep, shaky breath.  Why had he run?  For a long
time, he had been responsible for no one but himself.  He wasn't even
responsible for Chon - she took care of herself.  Now, to hear that
he was going to have the responsibility for a life other than his
own, for someone that was helpless and defenceless, someone that
would rely on him for his or her every need - it was just too much. 
He didn't know if he could handle that responsibility, or even if he
wanted it.

     Mulder had driven back to her apartment and let himself back in,
closing the door quietly. "Chon?"  He called her name softly,
but she didn't answer.   He went through to the bedroom,  and found
Chon lying on the bed, curled up on her side.  Mulder sat down on the
edge of the mattress.
     "I'm sorry."  He made no attempt to touch her.  He didn't know
if his touch would be welcome.
     "Why did you run?  Does the thought of me having a baby repulse
you that much?"
     "No...  I couldn't handle the news... I had to get out and think
it through."
     "And what conclusion did you come to?" asked Chon.  She
deliberately avoided his eyes.
     "That I don't know if I'd be a very good parent, but that I'd
like to give it a try."  He dipped his head slightly, and she had to
look up at him.  Tears filled her eyes.
     "What?" he asked softly.
     "I thought you'd left...  I saw the terror and revulsion in your
eyes when I told you... I thought you'd want me to get rid of it."
     "Oh, Chon... I thought you knew me better than that.  I would
never ask you to do that.  I just needed some time to adjust to the
idea, to think it through."  He lay down beside her, and took her in
his arms.  "I want this baby, Chon - it's a part of you.  How could I
not want it?"  He kissed her forehead.  "I'm sorry I ran out on
you... it wasn't a very mature thing to do."  He stroked the back of
her hand.  "There's something else I want to say..."
     "What?" she asked softly.
     Mulder took a deep breath.  "I think we should get married."

     Mulder had done a lot of thinking on the drive back to the
apartment.  Wondering what a child of his would look like, what sort
of talents he or she would have.  And then his thoughts had turned to
marriage.  Fox was old fashioned enough to believe that a man and a
woman should be married if they had children.  There was also the
security aspect - if anything happened to him, Chon and their child
would be able to claim his pension and other benefits.  He wanted to
be able to do something for his child, to be able to give it
something other than his name.  At least if they were married, the
child would have his name - assuming that was what Chon wanted.  For
all he knew, Chon was planning to give the child her name.
     "No."  Chon sat up and regarded him.
     "No?  Why not?"
     "Because it's not really what you want, Fox.  That's the
gentlemanly part of you speaking - doing what you think is right."
     "How do you know what I want?"  Mulder's voice was rising, his
brow creased.  "I want our child to have my name, to have two parents
that will love it and care for it... I want our child to have
security..."
     Chon reached out and took his hands in hers.  She had never seen
him so impassioned.  "Fox, our child will have all those things.  We
don't have to be married to provide a warm, loving home.  We don't
have to be married for our child to have your name.  Do you honestly
think I would deprive you of that?  I want our baby to be proud to
carry your name, to be proud of his or her father."  Her words
brought tears to his eyes.  He'd never thought that anyone would be
proud of him, or want to carry the Mulder name.
     "You definitely don't want to marry me?" asked Mulder.  He
lifted her hands and kissed the backs of them.
     "I didn't say that, Fox.  Maybe one day, but not now.  It's the
wrong time...  Let's see how things go for a while, shall we?"
     He'd have to accept that - it would have to suffice for now. 
"Okay," he said softly.  He touched a tentative hand to her stomach. 
"As flat as a pancake."  He smiled.  "How far along are you?"
     Chon laid a hand on top of his.  "Six, maybe seven weeks.  I
should book myself in with a doctor."
     "We'll get you a good OB/GYN," said Mulder.  "I want our baby to
have the best possible care."  He patted her tummy, and smiled again.
 "I love you, Chon, and I'm going to love this baby."

The Present
*************

     Mulder was leaning back against the desk.
    "My track record with emotional involvements, and my family
background, left a lot to be desired - I figured that this was my
chance to break the cycle of bad relationships that had dogged me all
my life."   Mulder sighed.  "Chon was four months pregnant when we
married. She still thought I was offering to marry her out of some
ridiculous sense of obligation or duty.  That wasn't the case at all.
I loved her, and I wanted us to be a family - together. I kept
asking, she kept prevaricating, then one day she finally said yes." 
The faintest trace of a smile crossed his face.  "I guess I wore her
down in the end and she agreed just to shut me up.  We had a small,
intimate ceremony - just the two of us and two witnesses."  Another
fond smile.  "Chon wore red - it was her favourite colour."
     "I always wondered... about Mikey, I mean," said Scully.  "I'd
always assumed he'd been premature, arriving such a short time after
your marriage."
     "Well, now you know," answered Mulder.  He studied her.  "You
seem shocked by these revelations, Scully."
     "No, I..."  What could she possibly say?  Scully took a moment
to compose herself.  "Did you attend his birth?"
     "I almost missed it.  He came a week early and I was out of
town.  I made it back just in time."
     "Did you ever think of having another child?"
     "It didn't happen," answered Mulder quietly.  To her enquiring
look he said, "The problem is with me, which made Mikey's existence
all that more precious.  I think we just got lucky first time round."
The warning light flickered in his eyes and Scully knew it was time
to change the subject.

     "So what made you move out here?" asked Scully.
     "You mean to tell me you don't know?" Mulder's tone was full of
sarcasm again.  "I'm willing to bet that news of old Spooky's
breakdown hit the fan quicker than I hit the hospital.  I'm sure you
must have been informed of that little hiccup - you seem to know
about everything else that's happened to me."
     "Mulder..."
     "It's okay, Scully - you don't have to spare my blushes.  You
want to hear what happened, I'll tell you."

The Past
**********
     
      Life couldn't have been better.  Mulder had a new wife and a
new baby - plenty to celebrate.  Then came the Danvers case.  Thomas
Danvers had one of the most sickening and depraved minds that Mulder
had ever come across.  His particular predilection was the rape,
mutilation and murder of young children - boys and girls, he wasn't
fussy - and he revelled in it.  Mulder knew he was working against
the clock in trying to catch him before he struck again, and another
bloody face joined the others to haunt the nightmares he had when he
allowed himself the luxury of sleep.
     "What are we doing out here?" asked Chon, as Mulder brought his
car to a halt at the end of a dirt track.  Out in front of them lay
Whidbey Island.
     "I needed to get out of the city.  It's been a tense week... I
just needed to get away," replied Mulder.  "Do you mind?"
     "No, not at all."  Chon regarded him - he looked strained and
ill at ease, and he'd hardly said two words on the ride up.  "Is
there anything wrong, Fox?"
     "Huh?" 
     "Is there anything wrong?"
     Mulder shook his head a couple of times.  "I'm just tired,
that's all."  He stared straight out of the windshield to the island
beyond, feeling the weight of the silence in the car settling on his
shoulders.  His opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.  The
silence continued until he could stand it no more.  "I grew up near
the sea."  His hands ran around the steering wheel.  "Martha's
Vineyard."
     Chon already knew that - it was one of the few facts he had told
her when they'd first got together.  Surely he hadn't forgotten?   "I
hear it's beautiful," she answered softly.  "I'd like to see it one
day."
     "Yeah." 
     Another long silence ensued, then Mulder reached out and took
her hand in his, weaving his fingers between hers.  His thumb
caressed the back of her hand, then he lifted it to his lips and
kissed it.
     "So small," he said reverently, as he examined it before kissing
it again then running his other hand across the back of it.  "And
delicate... such beautiful hands."
     When Chon looked up into his eyes, she saw them brimming with
tears.  "Fox, what is it, what's the matter?"
     He took a shuddering breath. "Nothing... it's nothing.  I'm just
tired... so tired."
     "Maybe you should take a few days off... we could drive up to
Vancouver for a long weekend. We haven't really spent much time
together as a family since Mikey was born."
     "I can't.  I have too much work."  He started the car and headed
back up the track.
     "Fox, you need to take some time off - you look terrible."  The
grey pallor and dark circles under his eyes never seemed to go away. 
"You're working all hours, and I know you're not sleeping."
     "I have to catch this guy, Chon... I have to catch him before he
kills someone else's kid."
     "I understand that, Fox, but not at the expense of your own
health and family life."
     "This is what I am - this is what I do, you know that."
     "I know this is what you do, and I've never tried to stop you,
nor would I."  Her tone remained calm, soft; belying the anxiety she
was feeling inside.  Chon touched his wrist and said, "So I'm not
allowed to worry about you?"  
     "I'm fine, Chon.  I can take care of myself.  You concentrate on
taking care of my son."  Mulder lifted her hand and kissed the back
of it.  End of discussion.
     Chon gave him a watery smile - he was not fine, and he
definitely wasn't taking care of himself.
 
     They were half way home when Mikey started to cry.  It started
off quietly enough, but soon grew to a crescendo.
     "What's up with him?" asked Mulder in concern.  
     Chon looked over her shoulder at the baby screaming on the back
seat.  "He's hungry," she replied.  "I'll have to feed him.  Can you
pull over so that I can get into the back?"
     "Sure."  Mulder brought the car to a halt, and Chon swapped her
front seat for one in the rear.  She carefully lifted Mikey out of
his little car seat, made herself comfortable then put him to her
breast.  He suckled hungrily, his mouth making little smacking
noises, as Chon smiled down at him.  She stroked his head with a
finger.
    "Who's my beautiful boy?" she crooned softly.  Mulder watched her
as she fed Mikey - it fascinated him to see her breastfeed.  He'd
never really considered the dual purpose of a woman's breasts before
now - to provide sustenance to her children, and as a source of
pleasure during love making.  Chon switched Mikey to the other
breast.  "My, you're really hungry, aren't you?"  She placed a gentle
kiss on his forehead.  
     Mulder leaned across, stroking his son's soft hair.  "I never
thought I'd love anyone as much as I love Mikey," he said softly.  
    "He does have a way of getting under your skin, doesn't he?" Chon
looked up and smiled. "Just like his father."

     The retching came from the bathroom, retching and retching until
there was nothing left to bring up.  Mulder slumped against the wall,
his face grey and waxen, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  That was
how Chon found him.
     "Oh, my God... Fox."  Chon grabbed a wash cloth and soaked it in
cool water, then gently wiped over his face.  Mulder moaned softly,
his arms clutching his stomach, the muscles strained from the
continual retching.  Her husband was disintegrating in front of her
eyes, and there was nothing she could do about it.  He wouldn't
listen to her worries, his mind was set on catching Danvers and
nothing else mattered.  The case had slowly taken over his life - and
Chon was so afraid that it would eventually destroy him.

End of Part Three

    

Someday We'll Be Together 4/7
by Carol Gritton (jimcaz@dircon.co.uk)

     The call came on a Thursday afternoon - she would never forget
it.  Chon had been working on a watercolour of the Skagit Valley
tulip fields, Mikey asleep beside her in his Moses basket.  Mulder
had been taken to hospital with a suspected mental breakdown. 
Hurriedly arranging for a neighbour to care for Mikey, Chon had
headed for the hospital, dreading what awaited her when arrived
there.  
     She found Mulder in bed, sedated.  Chon kissed him and smoothed
a hand over his hair.  He looked so peaceful lying there, and she
could only guess at the turmoil that had been going on inside his
head.  From what little she could find out, he had been found in the
men's room, mumbling incoherently, completely unaware of where he
was.  Apparently, one minute he'd been at his desk, the next he was
gone.  It was only after he hadn't returned for some time that
someone had thought to go and look for him.
     Chon was asleep when he woke up, her head pillowed on his hand. 
He reached out with the other one and ran it over her hair.  Just
that little movement made his head spin and his stomach lurch. 
Mulder closed his eyes until the feeling of nausea subsided, then
took a look at his surroundings.  It looked like a hospital room, but
why was he here?  What had happened?  And where was Mikey?
     Mulder's agitated fidgeting woke Chon.  "Fox?  Fox, it's okay,
you're in hospital."  She spoke calmly, reassuringly, laying her
hands on his arm.
     "Why?  What happened?"
     "You're not well, Fox..."
     "What happened?" he demanded, through gritted teeth.
     Chon filled him in with what had occurred the day before,
bringing him to his current situation.  Mulder lay back and closed
his eyes, tears brimming behind the closed lids.
     "Someone will be along later today to give you a psychiatric
evaluation," she said quietly.
     "I'm not crazy, Chon.  I've just been working too hard..."  He
squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stop tears from falling.  "I
see them all the time..."
     "Who?"
     "The children... the children that he killed, murdered for no
other reason that it gave him pleasure..."
     "Fox, don't think about that now."
     "Don't you understand?" he cried, grabbing her wrists tightly. 
"They're with me all the time - I see them every hour of the day and
night, sleeping or awake."
     "Fox, I'm going to call the nurse, you need to rest..."
     "No!  I don't want to be sedated!"  He looked around
frantically.  "Where's Mikey?  Where's my son?  I want to see my
son!"
     "Fox, please... calm down.  Mikey is with Gloria.  She's taking
care of him while I'm here with you."
     "You shouldn't leave him."  Mulder's tone was accusatory - as if
by leaving the child she was failing in her duties as a mother.
     "I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter, Fox.  I wanted to
see you, I didn't know what I'd find when I got here, or how long I'd
be staying.  I've been here all night."
     "I want to see him."
     "I'll bring him later, if the doctor thinks it's appropriate."
     "They can't keep me from my son."
     "They can if they think you're a danger to him," said Chon
quietly.
     "Is that what you think?" he asked.
     "I don't know, Fox.  You're my husband, and I love you, but
these last few months... I haven't recognised you.  This case... it's
turned you into someone else, someone that I'm not comfortable with
right now."  Chon took his hand and spoke softly.  "The doctors are
afraid that you might harm yourself.  I don't want to keep Mikey from
you, but you are ill, and I don't know what you're capable of.  You
need help, Fox.  Let them help you, please."

     Mulder was making good progress.  For once in his life he'd been
the model patient and followed doctor's orders.  He had a vested
interest in getting better - he wanted to get out of that hospital
and back to his family.  He missed them - the only bright spots in
his existence throughout this time were the visits of Chon and Mikey.
    "He looks different every time I see him," smiled the proud
father, gently bouncing the little boy on his knees.
     "They change a lot in the first few months," answered Chon,
taking hold of her son's small foot.  She watched as Mulder played
pat-a-cake with his son, then blew soft raspberries on the child's
cheek, making him giggle with delight.  She looked up at him.  "Dr
Melville says you can come home soon."
     "Good.  I'm going stir crazy in here.  You hear that, sport? 
Daddy will be home soon, and then we'll be able to have some fun."
     "You sound as if you have it planned already," smiled Chon.
     "I do.  I've had to think of something while I've been in here. 
I'm going to teach this little guy to swim, to shoot hoops and play
baseball."
     "Fox, he's only five months old!" laughed Chon.
     "It's never too early to start," grinned Mulder.  "He's going to
be a champion!"  With that, Mulder lifted the little boy into the
air, making him squeal with pleasure.
     "Go easy, Fox - you'll make him sick!"  Chon hadn't long fed
Mikey.
     "He's okay."  Mulder smiled as he cradled his son in his arms,
then turned his attention back to Chon.  "So what else has been
happening?  Are we on the way to our first million yet?"
     "I wish," smiled Chon.  "But I have been commissioned to do
another piece."
     "That's great!"  He took her hand and squeezed it.
     "Yeah, it's a portrait, so it'll mean I'll have to arrange some
sittings for the subject."
     "And who is the subject?"
     "Oh, someone's granddaughter.  I've been asked to paint her
portrait as a Christmas gift by the parents for the grandparents."
     "That's nice.  Maybe you should do one of Mikey."
     "Well, perhaps when he's a little older.  He wriggles around too
much at the moment, don't you?"
     "What makes you think he's going to be any easier to pin down
when he's older?" asked Mulder.
     "Oh, I forgot.  He's going to be too busy having fun with you to
spend any time with his mom!" smiled Chon.  "I'll probably paint him
from a photograph - it's the only way to guarantee that he'll stay
still!"
     
     They spent a pleasant half hour playing with Mikey, then Chon
put him into his basket for a nap.
     "Does he sleep well?" asked Mulder, pulling her into his lap and
wrapping his arms around her.
     "Like a log," replied Chon.  It was so good to be held again. 
She'd missed the comforting feel of Mulder's arms around her when she
woke in the mornings.  "He's a dreadful snuffler, though.  I think
he'll be a snorer, like you."
     "Hey!" cried Mulder in mock indignation.  "Maybe he needs a
little more ventilation in the room."
     "Yeah, maybe."  A silence fell between them.
     "I can't wait to come home, Chon.  I've missed you so much."
     "I've missed you too, Fox."  She extricated herself from his
arms and walked across to the window of his room.
     "Is there something on your mind?  About me coming home?  You
know I'm better, or Dr Melville wouldn't be releasing me."
     "It's nothing like that, Fox."  She turned to face him.  "I've
given this a lot of thought, and I think we should move - away from
the city.  It would be better for Mikey - plenty of fresh air and
open space..."
     "Crime doesn't stop at the city limits, Chon," said Mulder
softly.
     "I know, but won't you think about it?"
     "Did you have anywhere in mind?"
     "Well, somewhere within commuting distance, you'll need to be
able to reach the office... what?"
     "You're not the only one who's been doing some thinking.  I've
been doing a lot while I've been stuck in here."  Mulder rose out of
the chair and joined her at the window.  "How would you feel about me
leaving the Bureau?"
     "Resign, you mean?"
     "Not necessarily - there's the possibility of retirement on
medical grounds."
     "You're willing to let them label you as crazy?"
     Mulder chuckled.  "They think I'm crazy anyway.  Hell, they've
always thought I was crazy!  Might as well make it official."  He
took her hand, lifted it and kissed it.  "So what do you think?"
     "It has to be your decision, Fox.  What will you do instead?"
     "You don't want me under your feet all day, is that it?"
     Chon had her own routine at home, and as much as she would look
forward to spending more time with him, she didn't want any
disruption to her schedule.  "I'd just wouldn't want you to be
bored."
     "Well, I've thought about that, too.  I have a contact at the
university who's offered me the chance of some lecturing on the
criminal psych course.  It would only be one day a week..."
     "And what about the rest of the time?"
     "There'd be preparation for the lectures, obviously, and..." 
Mulder hesitated.
     Chon prompted him with an encouraging look.
     "... and I've been thinking about writing a book."
     "What sort of a book?"
     "A book about the paranormal."  Mulder smiled.  "We could make
it a team effort - you could design the dust cover for me!"  
     "My services wouldn't come free, you know!"
     "Oh, I'm sure we could come to some arrangement."  Mulder eyed
her tentatively - the time for jest was over.  "So what do you
think?"
     "I think it's a wonderful idea, as long as it's what you really
want.  This is something you really have to think through.  It's not
a decision you can make overnight, Fox." 
     I know," he said, touching her face.  "I know it would mean big
changes to our lives.  I just needed to know that I have your
blessing."

     They fell in love with the house the moment they saw it.  It was
situated on the Kitsap Peninsula, a little way to the east of
Poulsbo, just over an hour's commute into Seattle via the ferry from
Winslow, on Bainbridge Island.  Although still relatively close to
the city, it was also another world away.  They were surrounded by
gently rolling hills and several farms, and on a good day you could
see as far as the Olympic and Cascade mountains.
     The house was in a rather rundown state, but had so much
potential.  The rooms were spacious, with vaulted ceilings. 
Downstairs comprised a large entrance hall, living room, kitchen and
den. Upstairs there were three bedrooms, a bathroom and the fourth
bedroom Chon commandeered as her studio.  The house was set far back
from the road, up a long dirt driveway.  A couple of flower and shrub
borders graced the front of the house, but in the back, there was a
wonderful garden, with a good sized lawn.  Just the place for a child
to play out in.
     They moved in when Mikey was eight months old, and once the work
to renovate the house had been completed, Chon set about decorating
and furnishing it.  She concentrated on one room at a time, using
money from the sale of her paintings to finance the work.
     Gradually, the house began to take shape, and with the addition
of a small raised deck out back, complete with a hot tub, it was soon
exactly how they wanted it.  Once the house was finished, Chon
started on the garden.  The borders were choked with weeds, and there
was an apple tree that needed some serious pruning.  The lawn was
also in a pretty bad shape, but with Chon's love and attention, the
garden soon began to improve.  She cleaned out the borders and
planted hardy perennials as well as sowing seeds.  Her aim was a riot
of colour that they could enjoy when they sat out in the garden
during the summer months.
     Chon also planted fragrance plants close to the house -
lavender, honeysuckle and clove scented pinks, that filled the air
with their perfume on a balmy summer's evening.  She liked nothing
more than sitting on the wooden bench and watching Mikey tear around
the garden, or after he had been put to bed, snuggling up to Mulder
as dusk crept upon them, listening to the windchimes tinkling in the
evening breeze.  In the winter months, the hot tub came into its own,
and with the house being so secluded, they could cuddle up and bathe
naked under the stars. 

The Present
*************

     "So that's how I ended up here, Scully.  Because of Danvers.  It
wasn't the first time I'd sailed close to the edge, but it was
definitely the last.  I had to get out, if not for myself, then for
Chon and Mikey.  I'd seen what my involvement in the case had done to
her, and I didn't want to put her through anything like that again. 
I had to get out before the madness consumed me completely - before I
went totally insane."  Mulder glanced at the empty coffee pot.  "I'll
make some more coffee.  You want something to eat?  I can rustle up a
sandwich."
     "I'm fine, Mulder.  You go ahead and have something, though." 
     "I'm not really hungry.  I don't have much of an appetite these
days, not since I lost Mikey."
     "Mulder..."
     "Spare me the lecture, Scully.  I'm taking care of myself, I'm
okay."  He rose out of his seat at the desk.  "I'll go make that
coffee."
     While he was gone, Scully took the opportunity to take a look
around the den.  The bookshelves were lined with paranormal,
conspiracy and psychology titles, advertising Mulder's background and
interests.  A few titles stood out - a book of babies names and a
child care manual,  and two children's books that must have belonged
to Mikey.  The only book that was missing was a copy of his own
published work. 
     Scully moved to the desk.  Stacked in one corner was what looked
like a printed manuscript, full of annotations in red ink.  Was
Mulder working on another book? Scully went back to the bookshelves
and pulled out one of the junior titles.  She was looking through it
when Mulder came back with the freshly made coffee.
     "I used to read that to Mikey when he was small.  He'd wander in
while I was working and demand a story.  It always had to be either
that one, or that damned Dr Suess book.  And he would always know
when I moved the words or the sentences around, or skipped parts of
it altogether.  In the end, I kept the books here for convenience - I
just never got around to removing them once he'd grown out of them."
     Scully sat down again and accepted a fresh cup of coffee.  "So
how did it work out once you were at home all day?"
     "It was hard to adjust at first, for both of us.  But we soon
got into a routine, and it worked very well."

The Past
**********

     Mulder let himself into the house after another long day's
lecturing.  "Hello!  I'm home."  No reply.  He popped his head into
each of the downstairs rooms, but Chon wasn't there.  Nor was she out
in the garden, so he came back inside and climbed the stairs. 
"Chon?"
     "In here," came the soft reply.
     He pushed the bathroom door open and found her lying in the
clawfooted tub, with a sleeping Mikey cuddled on her chest.  The room
was illuminated by soft candlelight, and the air was scented with
something that Mulder couldn't readily identify.
     "Hi."  He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.  "What are
you doing?" he asked, taking a seat on the closed toilet.
     "Mikey's been cranky all day - I thought a warm bath might
soothe him."  Chon glanced down at their son.  "Seems to have done
the trick."  She cupped some warm water and trickled it over his
back.
     "Looks inviting," said Mulder.
     "Why don't you join us?"
     "Do you mind?"
     "Of course not. The more the merrier," smiled Chon.  She topped
up the tub with more warm water while Mulder stripped off, then slid
forward to enable him to step into the tub and settle himself behind
her.  Once he was comfortable, he pulled her gently towards him so
that her back was against his front.  To keep her hair out of the
water, Chon had caught it into a loose bun at her neck, and skewered
it with two chopsticks to keep it in place.
     He leaned his head against the back of the tub and closed his
eyes.  "Oh, this is great," he sighed.
     "Bad day?" asked Chon.
     "Not especially... I'm just tired."
     "That'll teach you to stay up half the night working on your
book," she said in amusement.
     "What can I say?  When you're inspired you have to go with the
flow.  I've known you stay up half the night to finish a painting." 
His fingers stroked slowly up and down her arms.  "What do you think
is wrong with Mikey?"
     "I don't know.  He doesn't have a temperature, but he's drooling
a lot.  He must be teething again, poor little thing."  Chon caressed
the baby's back and kissed his head.  Mulder wrapped his arms around
his wife and child, enjoying a moment of familial closeness.  "I
should be getting out.  I don't want him to catch a chill."
     "Let me go first and I'll get his towel."  Mulder got out of the
bath with much sloshing of water and walked, dripping, across the
cork floor to the heated towel rail.  "Here, give him to me."
     Chon handed the little boy to his father, who swaddled him in
the soft, warm towel, with its corner hood.  Then with his son
cradled in one arm, Mulder handed Chon her terry robe.  She quickly
got out of the bath and wrapped herself in it, taking Mikey back into
her arms so that Mulder could don his own robe.
     "I'll put Mikey to bed," she said softly.
     While she was doing that, Mulder saw to the emptying and
cleaning of the tub, and the extinguishing of the candles, then
joined her in Mikey's room at the crib side.
     "He okay?" asked Mulder.
     "Yeah, he's fine.  He'll sleep for a couple of hours at least."
     "Uh huh."  Mulder moved behind her, eased the restraining
chopsticks from her hair, letting it fall down her back in an ebony
cascade.  He stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on her
shoulders, his mouth close to her ear.  "Would you like to go to
bed?"
     "I thought you were tired," she remarked, leaning back against
him, his arms wrapping around her. He swayed slightly from side to
side, and she moved with him.
     "Not that tired," he answered, and she could tell he was
smiling.
     "What about dinner?"
     "I had lunch with Duncan.  I'll grab a snack later."  Mulder
eased the robe from her shoulder and sucked on the tender flesh
there.  "So what do you say?"
     "It's a tempting offer..."  She turned in his arms to face him. 
"Yes please."
      In one movement, he swept her off her feet, carried her to
their bedroom and deposited her on the bed.  He straddled her,
smiling down, then plucked at the belt on her robe, untying it
slowly, a little way at a time, alternating that with easing the robe
from her shoulders.  He leaned down, kissing, nipping and licking the
exposed flesh, hearing Chon moan softly.  Mulder brought a hand up
and cupped her left breast through the material, squeezing gently. 
She arched off the bed when he did that, and he chuckled.  He brought
his other hand to her other breast and squeezed both at once.  Chon's
hands moved to her belt, but Mulder gently pushed them away,
chuckling at her impatience.
     He waited for a moment, then in a flourish, he undid the belt
and parted the robe, exposing her.  He took in the sight of her
creamy, satiny skin, then ran his palms over her breasts.  She arched
again, and he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth.  He
licked and sucked, then moved across to the other one.  Below him,
Chon moaned softly, her fingers tangled into his hair.  She felt his
fingers trail down to her thigh, and she parted her legs, just a
little.  Mulder tickled the inside of both thighs, deliberately
avoiding her centre.  He left her breasts, and as he moved up to kiss
her, his fingers reached for her core.  He felt her jolt as he parted
her, feeling her moistness on his fingers. He dipped into her juices,
drawing the moisture up over her clitoris and Chon moaned even
louder.  Mulder had discovered that she liked that little move the
first time they'd slept together. 
    "You like me doing that, don't you," he said softly.
    "Yes," she whispered.  "I love it when you touch me there.  Do it
again."
     He repeated the action and brushed the little nub with his
thumb, making her shudder.  Mulder remembered asking her to tell him,
that first time, what else she liked, but she'd laughed softly and
declined, declaring that she didn't want to give away all her
secrets.
     Chon could feel his erection pressing against her.  She reached
down, slid her hands inside his robe and squeezed his buttocks. 
Mulder moaned into her mouth, and she started to pull at the belt on
his robe, working it until it came loose.  Chon sat up and shed her
bathrobe, revealing herself completely.  He gazed down at her in
wonder - she was beautiful.
     "Take off your robe," Chon said softly.  Mulder did as she
asked, then knelt over her, naked, his erection standing proud.  He
couldn't take his eyes off her.  
     "Are you going to look at me all night?" she asked in soft
amusement, and then she pulled him down and kissed him.  His fingers
went back to her centre, and he found that she was more than ready. 
He pulled back and looked at her again, his eyes holding hers as he
slid effortlessly into her warm depths.
   She was hot, tight and wet... so wet.  Her muscles grabbed him
like a vise, wringing every ounce of strength from him.  Mulder had
to increase his pace to keep up with her, until he was pumping so
hard he thought he would faint.  Chon came with a loud cry and a sob,
and he followed soon after, slumping against her to catch his breath,
his eyes closed.  She held him to her, and he made no effort to
withdraw.  Chon graced his face with little kisses, stroking his back
and his hair.  Eventually he opened his eyes, no longer seeing stars.
Mulder rolled onto his back, taking Chon with him; his arms wrapped
around her, their connection still intact.

End of Part Four