Apart

Title: Apart
Author: ML
Feedback: always welcome
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, Enigmatic Dr., or if you’ve archived me before, yes; if you haven’t, please just let me know and leave headers, email addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: through Trust_No1 Rating: PG-13 through R for the series
Classification: SRA
Keywords: MSR, Mulder POV Summary: I knew this day would come. I’ve known it for a long time.

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren’t mine, and neither are the Lone Gunmen. They mostly belong to the actors who portray them, but Chris Carter created them, and Ten Thirteen and FOX own the rights. I mean no infringement, and I’m not making any profit from them.

Author’s notes: This is the first of a five-part series. It’s set in the same universe as the “Abandoned” series, told from Mulder’s POV. You don’t have to read “Abandoned” to get this, but I hope you will, anyway.

More author’s notes and acknowledgments at the end of Part 5.

Chapter 1: Escape

I knew this day would come. I’ve known it for a long time. I’d even prepared for it, somewhat.

Knowing all that doesn’t make it any easier.

Scully can barely look at me. I know that it’s just because she doesn’t want me to see her cry. I, on the other hand, can’t take my eyes off her, or William.

Even William is affected by this. He’s fussy this morning; Scully has been walking him up and down, up and down.

None of us got much sleep last night. Scully broke her iron rule and brought William to bed with us. He lay between us, and we spoke softly to each other, and to him. We didn’t speak of anything profound. We didn’t talk about my impending departure. We just tried to be a family for the short time we had.

I couldn’t get enough of touching Scully or William. I tucked Scully’s hair behind her ear, cupped her cheek or her chin, leaned across William to touch her lips with mine. I brushed my finger over William’s velvet cheek, let him wrap his tiny fingers around mine. I’ll remember how that felt for the rest of my life.

We didn’t make any promises to each other. We didn’t have to; we already knew that we would do our damnedest to be together again. Saying the words again wouldn’t make them any more true.

Scully slept a little, and I held her and William in my arms, and thought about what lay ahead. I can do it, I thought. I’ve been alone most of my life. I’ll miss Scully, and William, but it’s not forever.

I got up and put William in his crib and stood watching him. He slept on, oblivious to our turmoil. My son. I’d seen many impossible things in my lifetime, but he was by far the most amazing one I’d ever beheld. Scully’s miracle. Our son. Maybe the world’s salvation.

It was a terrible burden to lay on a small baby. I wondered what thoughts went through my father’s head when he first saw me. Did he know, even then, how I’d become involved in the lies he helped form and foster? Did he hope to protect me? Or had he always intended to use me for his own ends? To “broker fate,” as he once put it, using my life as a bargaining chip?

I wouldn’t allow that to happen to William. Not our son.

I crawled back into bed and wrapped myself around Scully again. She made a low sound and curled back against me.

I can do this. I can leave her. It’s for the best. It’s not forever.

It was a very long night, but not long enough. I stayed watchful throughout, holding Scully, looking at her, letting her sleep as long as I could. Thinking about what the day would bring.

“Hey, Scully,” I whispered as the dawn began to seep into the room. “Are you awake?”

“Mmmmm,” she sighed. “Time’s it?”

“I’ve got to go soon,” I told her. “But listen, I have to tell you something…”

She turned in my embrace and faced me, her eyes searching mine. “What is it, Mulder?”

I just looked at her for a minute. Yes, I can do this. I can. “Scully, I…” I cleared my throat a little. “I love you.”

Her eyes filled with tears and I filled with panic. I can’t do this.

Yes, you can. You have to.

She buried her head against my shoulder. “I love you too, Mulder,” I heard her muffled voice. I felt her tears on my skin.

We finally managed to say the words, now that it’s almost too late.

x-x-x-x

The taxi’s here. It takes me a couple of trips to get the bags loaded. Scully stands by and watches, holding William. He’s gone quiet now, and watchful.

I can’t delay the inevitable any longer. I take William from Scully’s arms and hold him close, burying my nose into the folds of his neck, feeling his tiny hand brush against my cheek. I’ve got to remember what this feels like.

Scully takes William from my arms and kisses him, then puts him in his porta-crib. I open my arms to her and she comes to me. We stand like this for a long time, just holding each other as tightly as we can. Scully is the only thing that anchors me to this life. I cup her face in my hands, and kiss her again and again, storing up the feelings and sensations for the long, lonely time ahead.

I knew this day would come. But I always thought that Scully would be going with me.

As the taxi drives away, I wonder if I’ve left it too late. I don’t think about how I might never see Scully, or William, again. I can’t afford to think that way.

But I do think of other missed opportunities.

x-x-x-x

I’d always known that a time might come when I’d need to go underground. The first time the X-Files got taken from me, I started thinking about it.

After my escape from the boxcar in New Mexico, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to disappear. But I had to go back for Scully. I knew even then that I couldn’t do it alone.

I didn’t ask her after all. I had nothing to offer her, and she’d already given up so much. And when Skinner showed up and told her about Melissa, I left the decision to Scully. I couldn’t blame her for making the choice to go back. I might have considered going off on my own, but in only a few short years, Scully had become as important to me as Samantha.

We were too late for Melissa. Scully added another layer of grief; I added a little more guilt to my own burden.

All the same, when we got back, I started planning more seriously for our eventual disappearance. I enlisted the help of the Gunmen. For all my teasing of them, and the rude comments I sometimes make about them, I have a lot of respect for what they’re capable of doing.

I would never have gotten to Scully in Antarctica in time if it hadn’t been for the Gunmen. I didn’t think that much about it at the time. All my focus was on getting to Scully, and getting her out. I didn’t question how they did what they did. *Why* they did what they did wasn’t just for me, I know. All I’ve ever had to do is mention Scully’s name, and they’ve fallen all over themselves to help.

In fact, once I introduced Scully to them, I started to get the feeling that they’d do more for her than they would for me. They took sides with her over Diana Fowley (which in retrospect should have told me something about Diana). They watched over her when I was abducted, and probably did more to help her find me than anyone in the FBI did, and I include her other *partner* in that.

x-x-x-x

The taxi pulls up to the station. This is a pretty busy commuter hub, and it’s just getting into the prime time hour. It makes it harder for me to see if anyone’s followed me, but I think it will be harder for anyone to figure out where I’m going, too. If anyone cares. I didn’t see anyone following us to the train station, and a glance around doesn’t reveal any watchers that I can see. There’s always the possibility of video surveillance, of course. The cameras are everywhere. They’ve proliferated in recent years, almost to the point where they’ve become part of the background. I’m sure the average person hardly thinks about them anymore.

I think about them all the time. I’ve been surveiled covertly too many times not to. I know the Gunmen sweep Scully’s apartment regularly but they’ve taken to leaving the bugs where they’ve found them. They always get replaced, anyway. We’ve found other ways to prevent Them from seeing and hearing what we want to keep private.

They might be less vigilant in their watching now that I’m out of the picture but somehow I doubt it. They know who the important one is, has always been, in our partnership.

It takes a while to purchase the tickets, partly because I have to wait in line at two different windows. At the first window, I buy a ticket for the first train heading for Arizona. I check some of my luggage, and get back in line for ticket number two, to Florida, and check some more luggage through. I’ve purchased one under my real name, and the other under “George Hale,” a pseudonym I’ve used often enough that the bad guys probably know it as well as my own.

I have a third ticket, purchased a few days ago by Langly, under the name “Michael Orr.” This will be my nom de guerre for now. It’s not a name I’ve used with anyone but the Gunmen. Scully knows George Hale, and she knows Marty Mulder (though that’s one I wish she’d never heard).

Scully has an email address for me, but I doubt it will take long for anyone conducting surveillance to figure out whose it is. We’ve agreed to use it on a very limited basis. It seemed smarter to have *some* form of communication that can be discovered and monitored by the bad guys. Maybe it will keep them from digging much deeper. I’ve developed other ways of communicating with the Gunmen. They’ll be my main link with my old life, and with Scully.

x-x-x-x

I still didn’t fully appreciate my importance relative to Scully in the Gunmen’s view until Frohike set me straight.

Even though I was pissed at the Gunmen after the fiasco at the records facility, I ended up at their place in the early morning hours after leaving Scully’s. I was going to take Langly to task for his smartass comment about the parentage of the baby, but Frohike forestalled me. “When are you gonna wake up and smell the coffee, Mulder?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I was spoiling for a fight. I blamed them, I blamed Doggett, anyone but myself for what happened at the facility. I knew even then that’s not the only thing I was pissed about. Scully and I had already fought that night. I guess I still needed to take it out on someone.

“You really don’t know what Scully’s been through, do you?” Frohike continued. It was very brave of him, actually. It was a measure of how highly he — and Byers and Langly — thought of Scully. And one more example of how everyone was able to go on without me. At least, that’s how it seemed to me.

“Get your head out of your ass, Mulder,” Frohike said. “You know how it was for you when Scully was missing? Well, what do you think she went through while you were gone? You think it was any easier for her than it was for you?”

“Looks like she did okay to me,” I mumbled, but my heart wasn’t in it. Arguing with Scully had already raised my consciousness, so to speak. I guess I deserved the reaming I got from her, and from the Gunmen, that night.

“She’s never gonna tell you,” Frohike said. “But she went through freakin’ hell the whole time you were gone. I know you don’t like Agent Doggett much, but if it hadn’t been for him — and for Skinner — I don’t think Scully would have survived your abduction any better than you did.”

I was silent. What could I say? I didn’t want to think about how I was when Scully was gone. I didn’t handle myself very well. There was no way I could blame Scully for doing whatever she needed to do, if she felt even half as lost as I did when she was gone.

Of course, just because I agreed with Frohike doesn’t mean I went to Scully and apologized. But the argument we had seemed to clear the air, a little. Even so, nothing was the same; how could it be, with Scully pregnant? I thought it might take me another seven years to get back into her good graces.

It didn’t look like I would ever get reinstated with the FBI, either, and I began to think that maybe I should stop trying. With Kersh back in charge, I knew it would be battle after battle.

It didn’t surprise me when Kersh fired me. I was asking for it, pretty obviously. What surprised me is that he fell for it. I guess it is true that he’s simply another pawn, someone who doesn’t know the full story. He let his disdain for me, and what I’d been working for, get in the way of the larger agenda. He thinks he’s protected by those he serves, just as Blevins did. He’ll find out the truth, when he’s no longer needed. And with any luck, anyone I care about — or whom Scully cares about — in the FBI will be long gone.

After I was fired, I started thinking seriously again about going underground, and asking Scully if she’d be willing to go, too. No way did I intend to leave her behind.

That was before we had the partial abruption scare. I couldn’t ask her to leave after that. I’d just have to hang in there until after the baby was born, and it was safe to travel again.

It was a simple plan, and one doomed to failure. The closer Scully got to her due date, the greater the danger was. And William’s birth was fraught with as much danger as it would have been if we had gone underground. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

x-x-x-x

I have a couple of hours before my train leaves. I wander around the station a little, looking at it in a way that I’d never done before. It was just a station before, a stop on the way to somewhere else. The echoes and whispers eddy around me and I feel a sharp sense of loss. I’d just started getting the hang of my old life, I thought. I’m not ready to start a new one just yet. Not alone, anyway.

x-x-x-x

We had about a week together after William was born. All the time, I tried to think of ways to ask Scully to disappear with me. I’d been hearing some pretty disturbing things on the FBI front. It seemed that Doggett’s declared investigation of Deputy Director Kersh had stirred up quite a hornet’s nest. The backlash looked to be landing squarely on Scully, and by extension, me.

I knew that they would find a way to use one of us against the other, and the surest way to prevent that was to take preemptive action. Maybe we’ve just played into their hands, doing this. But we had to think fast, and this seemed the best path to take.

When I finally asked her, I got the answer I knew I would get.

“Mulder, I can’t,” she said softly. We were sitting on her couch. She leaned her head against my shoulder; William had just fallen asleep at her breast. “Not just because of William. You know there are other reasons, too.”

I nodded. “I know, Scully. But I think I have to go. You’ll be safer if I’m not here.”

She looked about to object, but I kept on.

“Think about it, Scully. I’m not in the FBI anymore, I don’t have their resources. Yet if I stay here, every move I make to find the truth, to keep you and William safe, will be monitored. I need to find some answers, Scully, and I don’t think I can find them here. They’ll never leave us alone.”

Scully didn’t try to say anything this time. She waited for me to say my piece.

“I told you I’d do anything to keep you and William safe. It didn’t work to send you away; They found you anyway. I just get the strong feeling that if I go, you’ll be safer than if I stay here.”

Finally, Scully spoke. Her tone broke my heart. “Mulder, there was a time when we wouldn’t have let anything separate us. How can we let them do it now?”

“You have so much more to lose now, Scully. And I do, too,” I said. “You know it as well as I do.” I gathered her closer, mindful of William in her arms. “I still can’t lose you, Scully.”

“Mulder, I don’t want to lose you again, either,” she said. “When you left the FBI–”

“When I was *fired* from the FBI,” I corrected her with a smile.

She nodded, but she didn’t smile back. “I thought somehow that you’d be safe. I didn’t want to have to worry about you out in the field, with no one to watch your back…”

“It won’t be forever, Scully,” I reassured her as best I could. “But things are different now. You have someone else to watch over. I’ll have to be the big boy, and take care of myself, while you take care of the little boy.”

She smiled a little at that, but she wasn’t convinced.

I know Scully would have come with me if she’d been able. We told each other that we’d be together again, as soon as it was safe. I’d either come back to her, or she’d find a way to come to me.

I hope I’ll be able to come back. I know how hard it will be for Scully to live life on the run. Never to see her mother again, to give up her entire life, for me? I’m not sure she can do it. I’m not sure she *should* do it.

I’m not sure it’s good for her, or for our son. What’s worse, living on the run with Mom and Dad, or being somewhere relatively safe with just Mom?

And are they safe where they are? Are they safer with me, or without me?

I also worry that yet another separation from Scully will make it all that much harder for us to regain the ground we lost when I was abducted. Scully would laugh to hear me say that I want a normal life, and that’s not it, really. I just want a life with Scully.

The concern I voiced so long ago, when Scully was given the chance for motherhood, has happened. Having a child *has* come between us, but not in the way I’d originally imagined it would. Neither of us intended for it to happen. Not in the way it did, anyway.

I don’t regret the miracle that is William, not for a moment. What I mean to say is, when Scully asked me to help her have a child, I didn’t want the *process* to come between us. Success or failure of the IVF notwithstanding, I still wanted the chance to build a relationship with Scully which had nothing to do with having a child with her.

I had trouble expressing this to Scully, mainly because I was afraid to be too open with her. My intention was always for her to realize how I felt without having to tell her. Yes, I’m a chickenshit. But the times I tried to tell her never seemed to come out the way I intended, and she never seemed to quite believe me.

Simply put: I love Dana Scully. I want to have a life with her, baby or no baby. I was afraid that having a baby with her would hinder what I saw as a developing personal relationship. Sounds paradoxical, but there it is. Nothing has ever come easily to us, whether it’s a piece of the truth or a kiss.

Here’s another paradox: The IVF wasn’t successful, but it *did* result in Scully and me becoming closer. Not right away, of course. But it started us on the path that, as it turned out, we both very much wanted to take.

In many ways, I’ve been one lucky son of a bitch. Abduction and death aside, of course.

x-x-x-x

I talked to the Gunmen for a long time before I left. I wanted to be sure that they will keep an eye on Scully and William. I know they’ll do their best to help us both. I hope that some of the things they’ve been working on will be successful, and soon. I don’t know if the fate of the world hangs in the balance, but mine does. I need Scully with me.

I’m counting on them to side with her this time. I need them to watch her back for me.

I trust that Skinner and Doggett will do their best to protect Scully too, but they can’t understand the extent of my fears. Skinner has actually come a long way down the road to believing; he’s learned about things the hard way, too, just the way Scully has. He’s sustained personal losses along the way, and had to do some terrible things that I know probably still haunt him.

As for Doggett…well, I know he’s not a believer. But he may come to it, in time. Scully told me about some of the cases they’d been involved in, and his reaction to them. I got a glimpse of it myself on my last *official* investigation as part of the FBI. But when it came down to it, he did his best to protect Scully, no matter what he believes.

Scully wouldn’t thank me for pulling this protective-male bullshit, which is why I didn’t say any of it to the Gunmen when she was around. I can rely on them, just as I can rely on Skinner and Doggett. I haven’t told the latter two that I’m leaving. They’ll find out when Scully tells them. The fewer people who know what we’re planning, the better.

x-x-x-x

Most of my luggage goes on board with one or the other of the new reservations. I board the third train as “Michael Orr” with one duffel bag and my laptop.

With any luck, the other stuff will sit in the unclaimed luggage office for a while at their destination. Though they might search them, times being what they are. It doesn’t matter. They won’t find much of interest. Just enough to show that they really belonged to me, and throw any pursuers off the track. I hope.

I settle into my seat and look out onto the platform. I don’t see anything unusual. No one who seems to be watching in the crowd; there’s no one talking to the conductor.

And no one to see me off.

I continue to watch the platform out my window. I see a trio approach the train: a man, a woman, and a small boy. The man lifts the boy up onto his shoulders, and though I can’t hear through the thick glass, I know he’s squealing with joy. The man swings him down again with a kiss, and leans in to kiss the woman. I turn away for a moment; even though they can’t see me, I give them their privacy.

The man stands on the platform, waving, as the woman and the boy climb onto the train.

With a sharp jerk and a swaying sensation, the train begins its departure. It’s been years since I’ve ridden the train. We chose it as the mode of transportation because it seemed I might still be able to keep some anonymity, as compared to air travel. It also gives me a bit more privacy. I’ve taken a roomette. I’ll be able to think, and grieve, without anyone seeing me.

I’m doing the right thing, I tell myself. It’s better this way. I need to have Scully and William safe while I pursue the answers I need to *keep* them safe.

The world outside my window has become blurred. I’m not sure if it’s the speed of the train, or the tears in my eyes.

It’s official; I’ve run away. I’ve gone to ground. I can only hope that I will find the answers I need before I lose my resolve.

x-x-x-x

The first day without Scully is very long. I stay locked in my compartment, bent over my laptop for most of the day. I don’t want to waste a moment. I also don’t want to think too much about who I’ve left behind.

I add to my growing list of questions. Are these super soldiers truly created by a government program, or are they some new form of human/alien hybrid? How did Billy Miles come to be? Had the government been conducting experiments on Billy and his friends at the time of our first visit to Bellefleur?

Most important of all, can they be destroyed? Krycek said not, but he’s been wrong before. He had a flair for the dramatic, and changed his stories more often than he changed his socks. He told the truth just often enough for me not to discount his words entirely.

There are many possible avenues for exploration. Billy Miles. Knowle Rohrer. Maybe even Colonel Budahas. The Gunmen were checking out what they could on their end; I am the man in the field.

And what about William? Once again, we have Krycek’s assertion that he is “more human than human.” Here also we have Lizzy Gill’s corroboration that he’s “special.” He looked pretty ordinary to me, the little I got to see of him.

More human than human. No human frailties. It doesn’t make sense. William has been examined from head to toe, and he exhibits no abnormalities of any kind. I hope that it’s true, but the realist in me (how Scully would laugh to hear me call myself a realist) knows that it can’t be that simple.

Monica Reyes told me about the odd events surrounding William’s birth. How the ranger insisted that William would be born, and how these — beings — crowded into the little building to witness it. And then, they just went away.

“Mulder, I never felt so helpless in my life,” Scully confided in me later that night. We were in a hospital in Atlanta, where I pulled all the strings I could to get Scully a private room where she could have William with her. I found out later that Skinner had called and done a little string-pulling and weight-throwing himself.

I wish I’d known then that our time at the hospital was almost all the time we’d have together.

I tried to make the most of it. I slept in Scully’s room, vigilant over the baby as she slept. When she was awake, I sat as close as I could to her and held her hand as she recalled the pain and terror of William’s birth.

“I wanted you there so badly, Mulder,” she whispered. She was still exhausted and her guard was down, or she might never have said anything to me.

I stroked her hair with my free hand. “I wanted to be there,” I said. “Not that I’d have made a better midwife than Agent Reyes.”

“I don’t understand, Mulder,” she started to say, and I watched as her eyes fluttered shut and she struggled to open them again.

“Don’t worry about it right now,” I said softly. I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest, we can talk more later.” I held her hand until she fell asleep and let myself out of the room to find Skinner waiting.

Skinner and Doggett filled me in on Knowle Rohrer and Agent Crane’s supposed demise, and their connection with Kersh.

“I’d lay low for a while, Mulder,” Skinner advised.

“You mean, stop investigating?” I asked. “You could order me around in the past, but not now.”

“Calm down, Mulder, I’m not trying to order you,” Skinner said. “I’m suggesting that you think of the danger you might be putting Scully and the baby in by continuing the way you have in the past.”

That hit home. It was a whole new ball game, and a whole new set of problems. I would not be allowed to live quietly with my new family. Eventually the devil outside would find a way in.

Unless, of course, I found a way to beat him at his own game. That’s what I started to think about in the intervening days, and what I began to discuss with the Gunmen.

Scully was of course in on some of the discussion, but I didn’t tell her everything. I didn’t want to raise her hopes too high, or to frighten her needlessly. She was going to have a hard enough time in the months ahead.

The day before I left, I said my good-byes to the Gunmen. “You take care of Scully and William, or I’ll come back and kick your asses,” I said.

“Take care of yourself, Mulder, or Scully will kick our asses, and yours, too,” Frohike said, hugging me again. I backed away before I started getting too emotional, and went home to Scully for the last time.

x-x-x-x

I have a long layover in Chicago, during which I resist the urge to call or email just to let Scully know I’m okay. I have a couple of old Hotmail addresses that I rarely use; Scully would likely figure out who the message was from, but it seems stupid to risk it.

I hope that I can continue to resist the temptation until it’s time to contact her as agreed.

Instead, I buy every tabloid I can get my hands on in the Chicago station, so I’ll have something to while away the sleepless hours. I’ve already been on the train nearly twenty-four hours and the thought of two more days is making me a little stir-crazy.

Late that night, unable to sleep, I prowl the cars. The observation lounge is empty; I sit in one of the swivel chairs and look out over the dark landscape.

Have I done the right thing in leaving Scully and William? Is it too late to turn around and go back?

In spite of myself, I think of Scully. I imagine her lying in bed, head half buried in her pillow, her breathing soft and steady. I see her eyelids flutter, and hope she’s dreaming of me. It had been my secret pleasure to watch Scully sleep on the rare nights I stayed with her, and I’m grateful for the memories now.

How could I not realize how much I’d miss her?

x-x-x-x

It’s late afternoon on the fourth day out of DC when I finally arrive in Portland, Oregon. I feel travel-stained and weary. I’ve let my beard grow the last few days. I know I look pretty scruffy. I head out walking from the station, and soon I’m in a part of town that’s seen better days. I see hotels that are a step or two down from some of the places Scully and I have stayed over the years. I can afford better, but right now all I want is a place to crash for the night.

I come upon a shabby brick building that calls itself The Queens Head Hotel. I wonder if it ever lived up to its rather elegant name. A smaller sign just below it says, “A Smoke and Drug-free Environment.”

The price is certainly right, and the room is clean though devoid of charm or amenities of any kind. I’ve stayed in worse places. I’d asked at the desk about places to eat, and the desk clerk gave me directions for a few nearby cafes. “No cooking in the rooms,” he admonished me.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I told him, and dragged myself up the stairs.

It’s only mid-afternoon but I decide to take a nap before doing anything else. I pull off my shoes and lie on the bed, hoping for a few minutes’ rest. I feel like I’m still on the train. As soon as I close my eyes, I can feel the vibrations. The silence after the constant sound and motion of the train presses on my ears.

I’m drifting, floating, not thinking at all, when I feel a jerk and see a blinding flash, even with my eyes closed. My eyes fly open and I feel the restraints on my arms and legs. I hear the high whine of the drills and sense the eyes of the Others on me. I open my mouth to scream for Scully but no sound comes out.

I see the drill accelerate as it approaches. I can’t even shut my eyes; all I can do is lie helpless as it comes closer and closer, and I try to brace myself against the memory of the unearthly pain.

I hear Duane Barry’s voice in my head as I try to scream: ohgodno notagain saveme it’scoming somebodystopit don’ttakeme noooooooo…

…the light blinks out, the drills stop abruptly, and I’m left alone in the dark.

=====

end of Part One; continued in Part Two.