TITLE:      SUGARLAND
AUTHOR:     Pacquin
E-MAIL:     pjtdjt@stellarnet.com
CATEGORY:   MSR, Angst
RATING:     R
SPOILERS:   Series Finale, post-ep

DISCLAIMER:   The X-Files and its characters are the
property of 1013 Productions and Twentieth Century
Fox and its subsidiaries, and are used without
permission.

SUMMARY: Scully struggles with her choice; Mulder
gives her another one.

TO THE READER:   This is very different from the
type of story I usually write, so your feedback is
doubly appreciated on this one.  I was working on
something nice and fun, but I couldn't get the
finale off my mind ... just had to write it out of
my system....  My sincere thanks to everyone who has
e-mailed me with comments and suggestions.

***************************
***************************

    It is their second night together on the edge of
nowhere.

    They drove for three days, or a little more,
driving endlessly, it seems to Scully.  After
Roswell, Mulder drives east, toward Texas.  She
doesn't even bother to ask where they're going, or
why, not right away at least.  

    A while later he turns north.

    "Canada," Mulder says, glancing at her. "We're
going to Canada."  He scans the horizon for several
minutes before he speaks again.  "There are things
in Canada that I need to see."

    She doesn't answer.

    "It'll be easier for us to blend in there," he
comments.  "English-speaking...." he trails off.

    There's another reason as well. Canada has a
very liberal attitude toward people seeking
political sanctuary; you just pull up to any border
crossing and request asylum, and after about an hour
of questioning, you're allowed on your way. It's
easy to blend in, be anonymous, disappear.  But
still, she has her worries. She doesn't think that
the "military hearing," that kangaroo court Mulder
was subjected to had any legitimacy to it, she
doesn't think that his name will be listed as a
convicted felon, awaiting execution, as they cross
the border, but Canada does extradite....  If they
use their real names, that is.  She doesn't know
what Mulder has planned.

    "Sanctuary," Mulder says, as if reading her
mind.  "If we need it, we can use it."

    But after Colorado, where they stop at an ATM to
get the money that Doggett and Reyes have arranged
for them to have access to, Mulder heads east again. 
"Not a direct route, Scully," he says by way of
explanation.

    And so here they are, nearly in Canada.  They've
stopped to rest.  "I need to rest, Mulder," she
says.  "I want to stay here ... just for a couple of
days."  She can't imagine a more isolated place than
where they are.

    Mulder nods his head.

    So here they are, in a cabin on the edge of
nowhere.  They found this place yesterday, fell
exhausted into bed and slept until the next morning.
It's quiet here; they are the only people around. 
The rancher who owns this land has four cabins for
rent; in the autumn they're booked for weeks at a
time by out-of-state hunters looking to bring down
game, elk and big-horn sheep; but it's summer now,
so there are no people.  The log cabin is neat and
clean, but nothing fancy.  There's no hot tub, no
satellite hook-up so that you can watch a thousand
movies.  It is one large room: the living room area
contains a slip-covered couch and two oversized
chairs; there is a small bookcase with a few
magazines and books; she doesn't know what they are,
she hasn't checked them out yet.  To the back of the
cabin is a queen-sized bed, carefully made, covered
with a homemade patchwork quilt; and a small
bathroom.  A kitchenette, everything in miniature--a
small stove, refrigerator, sink; some dishes,
pots and pans, cutlery; coffee pot.

    "What more could anyone want--" Mulder starts
to tease her, then stops.

    *************************

    Scully showers first.  

    The water here is strange; it smells peculiar,
like iron.  The rancher tells them that it's from
minerals leaching from the soil into the water
supply.  "Make sure you use the bottled water in the
kitchen for drinking," he tells her.  "And coffee. 
It won't kill you or anything, if you do drink some,
but most people don't like the taste."

    But the soap is nice, she thinks, raising the
homemade white bar close to her face to inhale the
fresh, faintly spicy, woodsy scent.  

    She finishes showering and towels herself off,
then slips a cotton sleepshirt over her head.  She
walks back into the room where Mulder is looking out
the large window at the front of the cabin; the sky
has darkened to a blue that is almost black, and the
stars are glittering brightly overhead.

    "Want to go sit outside for a little bit,
Scully?" Mulder turns and asks her. "It's still nice
out."

    She shakes her head.  "I think I'll just go to
bed, Mulder."

    "Okay."  He watches her as she walks toward the
bed.

    She gets under the covers and turns on her side. 
She does nothing but sit in the car while Mulder
drives--he's driven every mile of the way here--but
it's tiring nonetheless, sitting there, hour
after hour.  Mulder remains looking out the window
for a few moments, and then she hears him head for
the bathroom.

    She hears the slide of the shower curtain,
listens to him turn on the water.  Not many minutes
pass and she hears him turn the water off.  It
doesn't take him long, she thinks.  He leaves the
light on in the bathroom, then closes the door
nearly all the way, so that there is a slight blur
of light around the edge of the door; and then he
comes over and gets into bed with her.

    The clean scent of the soap is on his skin as
Mulder fits his body next to hers; he feels faintly
damp, and cool, and she lies there, trying to
breathe quietly and evenly.  After a few moments she
feels his fingers push her hair from her neck, feels
the softness of his lips as he kisses her there.  He
touches the curve of her shoulder, and then he
slides his hand down to her hip.  She lies there,
breathing softly, not moving; maybe he'll think
she's asleep.

    He doesn't, though.

    Mulder strokes her hip through the soft, thin
cotton of her shirt; he nuzzles her neck, his lips
insistent upon her skin.

    She shifts away from him. "I'm tired, Mulder,"
she says.

    It is quiet for a few moments; she hears the
sheets rustle on his side.  After a few moments his
lips are at her neck again, his hand sliding her
sleep shirt up and over her waist.

    "No."  She pushes his hand off her and pulls the
shirt down over her body.

    It is utterly silent, and then she feels Mulder
pull away from her and turn onto his back.  There is
more rustling, and she feels the mattress dip as he
sits up on the edge of the bed.  The rustle of
clothes now as she hears him pull on his jeans, and
then more sounds.  She hears his almost silent
footfalls as he crosses the room; hears the creak as
he opens the door, feels the cool rush of air as he
goes out into the night, the wooden door rasping
against the frame as he shuts it behind him. 

    It's the fifth time she's told him no.

    But who's counting.

    **************************

    She awakens, or thinks she does, in the deep
dark of the night.  She isn't even sure that she has
been asleep; but she must sleep sometimes, she knows
she must, because when she opens her eyes time has
passed.

    But she doesn't dream anymore, so it's hard to
tell.

    It is dark, and for a moment it is darker still,
and hard to breathe, and she realizes that her shirt
has been pulled over her head, and now she is lying
naked on her back.

    Mulder is on top of her now, his body pressing
into her, his lips hot against her skin, seeking her
mouth.  He kisses her hard, his tongue pushing into
her mouth, silencing any protest she might have
made.  His hands are all over her, all over her, all
over her....  He cups her right breast with his hand
and squeezes her possessively.

    He is so much more substantial than she
remembers.  She feels him put his knee between her
legs, feels the coarse hair on his legs brush
against the soft skin of her thighs as he lies on
top of her; he feels heavy, and male, and she knows
what is going to happen to her....  He spreads her
legs apart with his knees, takes one hand and
reaches down to guide himself into her.

    "I'm not ready," she says, struggling beneath
him, "I'm not ready...."

     He enters her, penetrates her, pushes in
slowly.  

    Mulder lies motionless on top of her, inside
her; he tangles his fingers in her hair, and she can
feel the hard line of his jaw pressing against the
side of her face.  He inhales deeply and holds his
breath, and then exhales; and then he begins to move
inside her ... that slow secret slide she hasn't
felt in so long.

    No words this time.  Very different from the way
they usually make love; Mulder's words to her when
he's inside her, fucking her; his words to her, his
lips pressed against her ear, that litany of love
laced with obscenity that alternately makes her
laugh, then burn with a hot excitement for him.

    She burns with it anyway ... wordlessly.

    Her body is more than ready for him.

    She brings her arms around him, her hands on his
shoulders, damp with sweat now, then strokes his
back, his muscles contracting and expanding with
every thrust he makes inside her.  "Mulder...." she
whispers, kissing the spot she knows he likes, just
below the hollow of his throat, bringing one hand up
to stroke his hair, resting her hand on the back of
his neck, holding him.

    Mulder is breathing heavily now, and he begins
thrusting into her harder, and faster; and Scully
arches her body against him, presses herself into
him, slides her legs higher on his body, opening
herself wider, and moves with him.  She's in this
with him, all the way....

    He raises himself slightly on one elbow, slows
his thrusting, and takes his hand from her hair and
strokes her face. "I need you," he gasps, looking
into her eyes, "... need you, Scully."

    She needs him, too, although she doesn't say it. 

    And then they are moving together, faster,
moving toward the end of it, and Scully feels it
start, that sensual heat of desire that starts
between her legs, the heat that travels up her body
... her breasts, her neck, her face; she arches
harder against Mulder, feels his hand upon her right
breast, stroking her, hears the harsh gasping he
makes as he thrusts inside her; and then her own
sounds, a high-pitched moaning in her throat,
longing for it, the release of her body with his,
and now now now, the thrumming sound in her ears as
she comes, crying out for him.  She grasps his
shoulders, burying her face against him, her tears
mingling with his sweat as he grips her tightly,
feeling his muscles tense against her hands. 
"God... I'm coming," he gasps,"...I 'm coming ...
Scully ... I'm coming inside you...." 

    It's very dark, even with the light from around
the edge of the bathroom door.  They lie there,
close together; she can't see his face in the dark,
and he can't see hers. It feels familiar, and
unfamiliar, lying in his arms again. "You were so
worried about me forgiving you, Scully, for letting
William go, for trying to find a safe place for him
in this world," Mulder says quietly, through the
darkness. "Maybe you can't forgive me, Scully. 
Maybe you can't forgive me, for leaving you alone to
make a decision that you should never have had to
make by yourself."

    She's silent for a moment.  "You've done nothing
that you need to be forgiven for, Mulder, by me or
anyone."

    Several minutes pass.  "Are you sure?" he asks.

    She nods her head silently against his chest.

    She can't tell him why she didn't want to make
love with him; that it seems wrong, somehow, to be
normal, to be ... she can't even say the word out
loud....

    She hasn't felt it in so long.

    ***************************

    He thinks that's what it is, why she didn't want
to make love with him, because she blames him for
leaving her all alone with the baby, leaving her in
a situation she couldn't control.  Mulder thinks that she 
resents him for what his absence compelled her to do, send their 
son away for other people to raise.  He thinks she was
all alone, with no one to rely on.

    It's not true, of course.

    She knew she couldn't keep William safe, at
least not the way things were, and she had decided
what to do, pretty much; and then she had asked to
see them.  Maybe she was hoping that somehow someone
had come with a solution.

    They had all come to her apartment: Skinner,
the Gunmen, Agent Doggett, Monica Reyes--everyone
she trusted.  They had sat up late into the night,
first arguing with her, then gradually, as the night
wore on, coming to accept her decision.  Everyone
knew how impossible it was; even the Gunmen with all
their sophisticated surveillance equipment hadn't
been able to stop William being taken from them. She
remained in control; she knew she couldn't break
down, couldn't let them see that even the most
barely workable solution would have caused her to
change her mind.  She was firm, cool and composed as
she listed her reasons, as calm as if delivering a
standard autopsy report.  

    She had cried, but not until the very end.

    Everyone had left, except Skinner.  He had put
his arms around her, and she had leaned against him,
and cried.  He had tried, everyone had tried,
everyone had tried to find a solution, given an
opinion.

    Well, not quite everyone....

    Her mother.

    She had taken a deep breath before opening the
door to her mother's house to tell her mother of her
decision.  She could hear her blood pounding in her
ears as she walked into the living room to tell her
mother what she'd done, what would surely break her
mother's heart.  And her mother had cried, and
Scully had cried, and her mother had tried to talk
her out of it.  She had offered to take the baby
herself, to disappear....

    "Mom, that wouldn't be a normal life for
William, living on the run with his grandmother. 
And if something happened ... if you were found...." 
Scully looked into her mother's eyes.  "If something
happened ... how could you ever bear it...."  She
put her hands over her mother's trembling ones. 
"How could I ever bear it...."

    She had broken her mother's heart. And she knew
what that felt like, because now she had a mother's
heart of her own to break.

    But she thinks her mother understands, precisely
because she *has* a mother's heart, that she
understands what a mother will sacrifice for her
child.  She thinks her mother forgives her for what
she's done.

    

    Scully doesn't want to think what he would say.

    She's fairly certain that he couldn't say
anything to her that she hasn't said to herself
already, but still....

    Passed the buck, Starbuck.

    You passed the buck.  Didn't face the music.
Threw in the towel.

    Scully shivers.

    She wishes she could forgive herself.

    *********************

    Morning light filters through the cabin's big
window, waking her. It's warm during the day, but
night and early morning are chilly.  It's almost
like the mountains, thinks Scully, but they are far,
far from the mountains here; here on the vastness of 
the northern plains.  Mulder is sitting outside the
cabin on a wooden bench, watching the rising sun
take the deep lavender shadows from the scoria, the
red rock of the Badlands of North Dakota.  They are
only a couple of hundred miles from the Canadian
border.  She hands him a mug of steaming coffee.

    They say nothing, merely sit there together,
looking out at the landscape.  It was odd, that you
came upon this place, otherworldly, almost; canyon
after canyon of harshly carved red rock after a
peaceful drive on the green grass of the plains.

    "The Badlands," Mulder says.  "Do you know why
they're called the Badlands, Scully?"

    She shakes her head.

    "The Native People told the white explorers that
they were 'bad lands to cross.'  There are no
landmarks; the rock formations are so similar that
it's next to impossible to find your way across
them, it was easy to lose your way....  People got
lost and were never found."  He drinks some coffee,
then sets the mug down on the ground beside him. 
"Badlands." He sits there staring into space, then
leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees,
bringing his hands together and resting his fingers
against his lips, tapping them gently. Neither of
them speak.  And then he says something else, says
something that she can barely hear. "Sugarland," he
says quietly, meditatively.

    Scully raises her eyebrows and looks at him.

    "'The Sugarland Express.'  An early Steven
Spielberg movie.  Did you ever see it, Scully?" 

    She shakes her head again.

    "It was about this couple.  They sort of live on
the edge; the guy is a not-too-bright small-time
crook; the girl is a not-too-bright victim of her
background.  But they love each other. They have a
baby together; the guy is in jail and the girl is
forced to put the baby in foster care, to give up
the baby to a couple.  But she wants the baby back,
and so she helps him break out of jail and they go
to get their baby back. Sugarland. That's the name
of the town where the baby is. And that's what the
movie's about, what happens when they go to get
their baby back from Sugarland."

    It's a quiet morning, Scully thinks, standing up
slowly. The wind blowing through the trees, the
birds singing.  It's peaceful here.  She shifts from
one foot to the other.

     "It ends ... how...." she said quietly.

    Mulder looks at the ground.  "Not good," he says
shortly.  "It ends very badly as a matter of fact." 
He shoots her a quick look.  "But that's not to say
that it would end badly for us, Scully, if we go and
get him back."

    She holds her breath.

    He looks at her, fixing her with his gaze. "When
you were taken from me, Scully ... when you were
infected with the alien virus...."  He glances away,
then back at her.  "I went to the fucking end of the
earth for you, Scully....  I went to fucking
Antarctica to get you back."  He stands up and
stares out over the shadowed land.  He turns and
looks back at her.  "I'd go to the ends of the earth
again for you. I'd do anything for you. And if you
want William, then I'll get him back.  If that's
what you want."

    Red rock, red rock, red rock, red rock, red
rock.   

    She repeats the syllables over and over again to
herself, trying to gain control of herself, to keep
from crying; but it's no use, and her eyes fill with
tears. "I don't know, Mulder.  I don't know what I
want.  I don't know what the right thing to do is. 
I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don't
know now...." She turns away from him, moving out of
the sunlight that has suddenly become too warm.

    "Just tell me, Scully," she hears him say. "Tell
me what I need to do. Because I know that I can't
stand by and watch you die by inches, from 
loneliness, or guilt, or grief, whatever it is
you're feeling."  He comes up behind her and says
quietly:  "The Great White North or the Sugarland
Express, Scully.  I'll do whatever you want,
whatever you need." 

       ****************************

    She knows where the baby is, more or less.

    It was her only condition.

    It was a sealed adoption, like in the old days;
William's new parents knew very little except that
he was a healthy baby.  Sealed on their side, but
not on hers.

    Skinner had arranged it.

    She wasn't sure how much power Skinner really
had, but he had *some* left, anyway, enough to pull
some strings and work out the baby's adoption for
her.  He listened to her requirements, then made the
arrangements.  She had only a few, actually,
requirements; she didn't care what religion he was
raised, but she wanted them to be educated; and she
hoped that they would have decent table manners. 
Better than Mulder's, anyway.

    After it's over, she looks at Skinner.

    Skinner is upset, and he can't meet her eyes at
first; but then he does, and answers her silent
question.  "In the West, Dana.  Very remote.  He'll
be safe there."

    She nods.

    *****************************

    Mulder is staring out at the Badlands.

    She hasn't given him an answer.

    "If you can't be happy, Scully," Mulder says,
"if you can't be happy without William, then we
might as well all go down fighting together.  Maybe
that's our destiny.  And his."

    Scully looks at Mulder standing there in front
of her, standing in the morning sun against the
backdrop of the Badlands, the place where people get
lost, lose their way.  And  she knows the truth
about herself, what she would tell her father, if he
were here:  That she did not give up, or pass the
buck, or throw in the towel. She loves William, her
child she carried within her body, Mulder's son. 
She did what any mother does instinctively:  She
found a safe place for her little one.  And even if
that safe place isn't in her arms, or by her side,
it doesn't mean she loves him any less, or that she
is any less of a woman for having sent him away.

    And she thinks she might be able to forgive
herself, after all.

    The Sugarland Express, she thinks.

    She realizes that Mulder loves her, loves her
more completely than even her father did. Mulder
knows she did the right thing, finding a safe place
for William.  But he recognizes that she wants to do
the wrong thing, to go and get him. Mulder, with all
his integrity, is willing to do the wrong thing, for
her. Mulder is willing to go and get the baby for
her.  Mulder loves her, even with all her flaws,
even when she wants to do the wrong thing.

    She matters to him, as much as his quest for the
truth.

    And she realizes, too, that there can be no
quest, not with the baby.  She can't endanger
William; Mulder doesn't know what it's like, with
the baby, but he will, he'll see the impossibility
of it.  They won't be able to continue looking for
the answers; and she can't be separated from Mulder,
not again. She couldn't bear it.

     She thought she had braced herself for it, the
pain and guilt she felt in making her decision to
send William away; she acquired a new, sharp, fierce
pain to accompany the dull ache of loss she felt for
Mulder.  For a while she wondered, truly, how she
could go on. She'll never get over it. She'll never
be the same again.  She'll never be happy.

    But she is.

    Surprise.

    She's happy with Mulder.  In this shabby cabin
on the edge of nowhere, drinking coffee and looking
out at the jagged edges and sharp peaks of a
landscape that could be another planet, she is
happy.  Making love with him.  The sense memory of
his body on her, and inside her. His semen seeps out
of her as she stands there with him. Maybe she'll
hold out her hand to him, and they'll go back
inside, get into bed together, and make love.

    She's happy, all alone with Mulder.

    She decides to forgive herself for that, too.

     ************************

    Mulder stands and stretches, raising his arms to
the sky.  He turns toward her. "Where to, Scully? 
North, south, east, west.  You tell me."

    She clears her throat.  "North," she says. 
Mulder looks at her carefully.  "North. To Canada. 
So you can see the things you need to see."

    Mulder pauses, then squints into the sun.  "No
Steven Spielberg?" he says, looking back at her.

    "What, Mulder, you think Steven Spielberg can
get us out of this?" says Scully, giving him a slow
smile.

    Mulder smiles, too. "Him and Bill Gates
together, maybe."

    She laughs, and reaches out and touches his arm,
then turns to go back into the cabin to begin
packing.  Mulder stands and reaches out for her,
stopping her.

    "We'll find a way out of this, Scully.  We will. 
And I don't know how, yet, but we'll see him again,"
he says quietly, looking at her.

    He takes her into his arms then, and she puts
her arms around his back; they stand there, in the
morning sun, holding each other.  Scully blinks
rapidly, trying to hold back her tears, and she
feels Mulder's lips pressed against her hair.

    "Believe, Scully," he says, "just believe."

    ********************************
    ********************************

    Thank you for reading.