Betrayal and Absolution 
By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com)

Classification:  Post-Ep (sort of), Angst, Therapy, but only for the author
Rating:  PG13
Archive:  Anywhere
Spoilers:  William, and anything up through that episode
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, William, Walter Skinner, and everything related 
to them belong to Chris Carter and 10-13.  I'm only borrowing them.
Summary:  Scully's fate be after her decision regarding her son is something 
she never expected.
Feedback:  If you so desire.  I really don't expect much on this one
Acknowledgments:  Thanks to Sally and Michelle for the beta, and Deb for 
helping me formulate the story aspects and have a desire to even want to work 
out this one.
Author's Notes:  Okay, those of you who are close to me - and you know who 
you are - have had to listen to me rant about CC, Scully, and the atrocity 
that was the episode William.  Call this my bit of therapy to get past it. No 
guarantees it'll work, but if I can't fix the story, and CC will probably 
refuse to, I had to find a way to rewrite it.  I'll warn you that this is not 
a nice story , but it was something I had to do for myself.  If you disagree 
with my depiction or ideas, I'm sorry, but this is the way I saw it. 

Betrayal and Absolution
By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com)

She wasn't sure what had caused her to read the obituaries that day.  
She never read them.  At least, not since she retired, over ten years
ago now.  But something had told her to do it today, and sure enough,
the listing was there in the Chicago newspaper, as if beckoning to
her.

It wasn't that she didn't expect that he'd die some day.  He'd managed
to get through a long career with the FBI without getting killed or
permanently maimed.  He'd retired a full director with a distinguished
career despite the support he'd given a pair of very unorthodox
agents.  So distinguished that his obituary would be listed even in
this paper, half a country away.  She couldn't remember the last time
they'd talked.  He'd moved to the sunshine state after retirement, and
their contact, scarce as it was, ended completely.  It was the last in
a string of desertions, and she was truly alone.

Her mother had died a few years ago, and they hadn't been close for
some time.  Maggie Scully was a great woman, but she was no saint.  
She'd never been able to put aside her scorn of her daughter's
decision regarding her grandchild, feeling as betrayed by Dana as
Mulder must have.  The strain on their relationship had been too much.

Bill and Tara shared a tiny house in upstate California, where people
rarely visited and they could complete their lives in peace and quiet.  
Their children were spread across the US map, out of touch with a
distant aunt.  Through all her conflicts with Bill, she'd always been
shocked that the one thing that had finally broken their bond beyond
repair wasn't her relationship with Mulder, but her lack of one.  She
couldn't explain exactly what it was Bill expected, or if he
understood their position. He was a simple man with simple morals -
and she hadn't fit into his idea of family for a long time.

Walter Skinner was dead.  Her wandering thoughts drew back to the
obituary once again. He'd lived in Florida for over fifteen years.  
Reading the listing more carefully, she saw the wake, not being held
in his most recent home city, but in the nation's capital.  He was to
be buried at Arlington National Cemetery, with all the honors due a
hero of the Marines and then the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  If
anybody deserved such an honor, he did.


She hadn't been back there in ages - she couldn't remember the last
time.  She remembered so little these days.  So, it was with a certain
amount of hesitation that she called and arranged for an airline
ticket.  It wasn't that she was going alone, just that she was going
back to where there were so many memories.

She'd long since grown accustomed to attending such events by herself.  
A life spent in virtual exile from the world on a personal level
equipped one to be self-sufficient at the very least.  Not that she
hadn't had opportunities, but she'd quickly found that she didn't want
anybody in her life except Mulder.  Mulder, who had returned from
hiding only to find his son gone.  It had been the single, defining
factor in the downfall of their relationship.  What little of it was
left was destroyed by this final act of betrayal, as he saw it.  In
looking back on it from twenty-five years of life experience, she
wasn't so sure he had been wrong.

She'd begged for his understanding, but he'd been unable to forgive
her.  By now, he was probably happily retired with a wife he felt he
could trust and a handful of kids happily giving him grandchildren.

Why was she thinking about him after all these years?  She hadn't
gotten as much as a Christmas card from him over the years, and she
hadn't gone out of her way to find him to send him one.  He'd made it
perfectly clear when he left: Dana Scully was as much a person of his
past as Diana Fowley or Phoebe Green.  One of the women who'd betrayed
his trust, broken his heart - only she'd done even worse.

Shaking her head, she tried to put her former partner out of her mind.  
She needed to get packed in order to make her flight.  Skinner had
always been supportive of her, up until the time when she quit the
bureau and returned to her long-abandoned medical practice.  They'd
met a few times after for lunch or even a dinner, but life went on,
and their circles of friends grew in different directions.  They HAD
exchanged cards each holiday season for many years, always with a
scribbled note as to how they were doing.  In his later years, he'd
finally found happiness with a good woman who valued him for what he
was instead of what she wanted him to be.  She briefly wondered if
she'd get to meet her at the funeral.  Hell, she could have been dead
already by the time Walter Skinner passed away.

Dammit, she had to stop thinking about the past.  There'd be enough of
that when she landed in Washington.  Perhaps, if she was feeling
particularly masochistic, she'd even take a tour of the J Edgar Hoover
building before returning to Chicago.

**

As she sat in the plane, she again let her mind drift back to that
time.  The circumstances she didn't like to think about most of the
time.  The day Mulder returned to her . . . and then left again.  She
could remember clearly Mulder's words to her, as if it were just
yesterday.  At the time, she was full of self-righteous indignation.  
From the perspective of time, she marveled at her own hubris.

She wasn't sure what had awoken her, perhaps that inimitable silent
communication they'd shared.  She'd been expecting him, of course, but
weariness had won out over her excitement at seeing him, having him
return to her everyday life and to her bed.  The consortium was no
longer a threat, and Mulder had assured their safety.

She didn't want to startle him, so she watched him from under hooded
eyelids as he drank in her welcoming form.  She was here, and she was
safe, she felt him reassuring himself.  Expecting him to come to her,
she was surprised when he turned to move down the hall.

Rising silently, she reached the hallway just in time to see him go
into the spare bedroom, formerly the nursery.  Oh, God . . .

By the time she walked through the bedroom doorway, he'd drawn up
beside the bed. He was familiar with this bed from so very many years
ago while on so many cases.  Nights spent sick and hurting, when
Scully had nursed him back to health and sanity.


It was all wrong.  This room was not how it should have been, Mulder
knew, and felt his heart sinking.  Surely if something had happened to
their son, she would have told him.  He felt in his heart that the
child was alive and well - knew it with the empathy of a father for
his beloved child.  It was a tether he had never had with his father,
and had been thrilled to realize he'd had it with his son.  Their son.

But there was no crib.  No changing table.  No mobile or dresser full
of baby clothes.  He found his mouth dry, his throat catching, making
it hard to speak.

"Where's William?" he choked out.


Oddly enough, she couldn't remember exactly what she said to him.  
How she broke the news of what she'd done.  Where his son, the product
of their love, was.  She'd tried to draw him out of the room, to sit
on the couch while she revealed everything, but he'd stood rooted to
the spot like the tallest oak tree, and she'd been forced to tell him
standing there in the darkness of an empty bedroom.

She'd never seen him so angry, his anger starting low and quiet.  
"You selfish bitch."

"Mulder, I know this is hard for you . . ."

"You have no idea how this is for me!  I work and strive, and live in
the loneliness and the filth and the degradation so that I can be sure
it's safe for both of you when I return to you.  Did you not read any
of my emails telling you how badly I wanted to be with the two of you?  
Do you really care about me so little that you'd give away my son like
he was yesterday's garbage?"  His rant was growing now, loud and
harsh.  "Or is it just that you found out from Jeffrey Spender who my
real father is and didn't want any part of having that genealogy in
your life?  Didn't you think I'd ever come home and want my own?  The
life I left behind?"

"But . . ."

"I'll admit it, Dana.  I really didn't expect you to wait for me.  If
I'd returned and found another man in your bed, I wouldn't have been
happy, but I would have accepted it.  But even if we weren't together,
I always believed that I'd have my son.  Our son, or have you
forgotten that little fact?"  And then he'd turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Do you care?"

"Yes, of course I care, Mulder.  I love you."

"Well, you've got a hell of a way of showing it," was the last thing
he angrily said before he fled the apartment.

She'd never seen him again A box had been delivered to her doorstep a
few days later, containing all the mementos she could remember sharing
with him during their relationship.  Even his beloved "I Want to
Believe" poster was enclosed, a green post-it note stuck to the front
with Mulder's scrawl on it.
 "You've left me nothing to believe in.  I should have listened when
Deep Throat said, 'trust no one.'"

At first, she'd been angry.  How dare he lay this all on her.  But as
time went on, she'd settled into a new routine.  One alone.  She
worked, she survived, but, now, she wasn't sure that she'd ever have
called it living.  She existed.

Sure, she had regrets in her life - everybody does, she admitted to
herself.  But she'd lived a productive life. Helped a great deal of
people, garnered some loyal contacts.  She could be proud of her life,
she though.

As the plane touched down at Washington-Dulles Airport, she wondered
if coming here was a mistake.  But she'd begun this, and now, she was
going to finish it.

**

When had Walter Skinner gotten so old?  That was the first thought
that occurr ed to her as she approached the open casket in the
nondescript funeral parlor.  A flag draped the coffin, a sign of his
dedicated service to his country.

Taking a place on the kneeler, she tried to bring forth a prayer for
the soul of her former boss, but nothing came to her.  She'd long
since given up on prayer - it didn't do any good.  So instead, she
took in the body.  Not that it looked all that much like him.  Bodies
never did, and she wondered briefly who had ever decided that trying
to make the dead appear alive again was a good thing.

She stayed in her place for what she thought was the proper amount of
time, then rose carefully.  Turning, she scanned the room, wishing she
recognized even one person there.  Instead, it was a sea of unfamiliar
faces.  She wished she knew how she felt about that.  In a way, it was
a relief, but it made her feel even more alone than she usually did.

Suddenly, her attention was drawn to the room's entrance, and a tall,
slim figure in a charcoal gray suit making his way into the parlor.  
It's HIM!  Shouted in her brain.  He scanned the room in that way he'd
always had, taking it all in and storing it away for reference at a
moment's notice.  His glance had begun at the other end of the room,
giving her ample opportunity to study him.  Copious hair more gray
than brown, he was thinner as well and walked with a pronounced limp.  
His gate was slower than she expected, his shoulders hunched.

She waited eagerly, holding her breath, until she could see his
gorgeous eyes.  Finally, it happened.  She saw the recognition in his
face, and a warmth she hadn't felt in decades filled her.  It made her
smile, and take a step forward . . .

Only to see him determinedly turn his back and leave the way he'd
come.  She didn't know what compelled her, but she went after him as
fast as she was capable.  Reaching the hallway just in time to see him
exiting the funeral parlor, she was caught up short when a new, tall
figure stepped in front of her.

Her eyes were less than five inches from the dark, sedate tie held in
place by a tie tack that looked slightly familiar.  Following the tie
up the six-foot-plus frame, she was taken aback by the features.  
Plump bottom lip, strong nose, dark brown hair, and deep blue eyes
which, now that she'd gotten to them, held bitter scorn.  Before she
could speak, the young man interrupted.

"Leave him alone."

"But I . . ."

"I know who you are, and I'm telling you to leave my father alone.  
Isn't it enough that you've ruined his life?  Do you want to put him
in his grave as well?"  He rushed on, not giving her the chance to
respond to his rhetorical questions.  "My father has a weak heart;
he's had one attack already.  That shouldn't surprise you, though,
especially since you're the one who broke it."

In a split second, not only did what he was saying sink in, but how he
was saying it.  He'd referred to Mulder as his father.  Had Mulder
found a woman who bore him a child after their relationship ended
after all?  He most assuredly bore a striking resemblance to her
partner, but there was other blood there as well, represented most
clearly in his vibrant blue eyes.  A shiver went through her, and he
obviously noticed.

"What, don't tell me that the ice queen can actually feel something!  
Yes, I found out about that nickname, although Dad said it didn't suit
you.  I think he was wrong. It fits you very well. Are you trying to
convince me that that was a little spark of emotion I saw there?  Too
bad you didn't have any human feelings when you ripped me from my
father's life!"

Scully gasped in realization, heaving a sigh.  "William," she
whispered.

"No!  You lost your right to call me that twenty five years ago.  I am
Mr.  Mulder to you, Dr. Scully."  She felt her eyebrows shoot up.  
"Yes, I took my father's name when he found me.  It took seven years
of searching before he finally discovered me with the couple with whom
I'd been placed.  And while I cared, and still care, for them, I knew
the instant he came into the room that this was my real father.  The
parent I was meant to be with.  My adopted parents understood and saw
that, too.  We all stayed in touch.  And when I was old enough, he
told me about you.  Although he didn't tell me all of it.  He was
bitter and angry when the subject of you came up, but he didn't want
me to have bad feelings for my birth mother.  Well, that was one thing
I couldn't give him.

"You see, his first heart attack occurred just after my high school
graduation.  He was in the hospital, and I was searching through his
closet, trying to find the insurance policies and government pension
paperwork when I found them.  His journals.  Volumes and volumes of
his thoughts, his pain, his loneliness, and his hurt.  You cheated him
out of the happiness every person deserves.  I hope you've had a life
as painful and lonely as his has been because, as far as I'm
concerned, you deserve every bit of it.  He gave me everything, and
you gave nothing.  Nothing to him, and nothing to me."

He was panting heavily from his rant by now, shaking with his fury and
the desire to keep his words from disrupting all the guests at the
wake.  He angrily delivered his final verdict.

"You're not only a poor excuse for a mother, you're a poor excuse for
a human being.  We may, by chance, run into each other again some
time, but I promise you, this will be the last time you will EVER hear
me refer to you as my mother.  Because you weren't.  You didn't care
for me, and you didn't care for my father or our feelings.  I can't
even believe that a woman as loving as Grandma Scully raised you."

"How did you know . . .," Scully said, stunned.

"My father brought me to meet her.  When her health started to fail
and she began to grow weak, I finally asked him, for the first time,
if I might meet her, and he agreed.  He never tried to keep anything
from me that I felt I needed unless it could do me harm.  And you know
what?  My grandmother was a wonderful, loving woman, to both me and my
father.  When she passed away, we mourned for her.  Both of us.  
Alone.  We couldn't even go to the funeral and pay our last respects
because we knew you'd be there.  We missed her, and we miss her still,
as do so many others.  It's too bad that the same won't be said about
you when you die."

The venom in his words was striking, a knife through her heart that
she wondered was her own heart attack.  She had done this, she
realized, and there was no fixing it or undoing it.  Her eyes began to
water.

"Oh, now you're going to try to convince me you're capable of emotion?  
I think the only emotion you're capable of is selfishness.  Well,
that's fine with me. We got along without you until now, and we'll
continue to get along without you.  I'm going to take my father home."

Scully was shaken.  "But the wake . . ."

"Oh, don't worry.  Mr. Skinner is being laid out tomorrow too.  We'll
come back then to pay our last respects.  Do us all a favor, Dr.
Scully, and don't be here."  And with that, he turned on his heels and
stomped out of the funeral parlor and into the darkness of night.


It seemed that the only things he'd inherited from her were his eye
color and his temper, she thought as a sob broke from her chest.  
Fleeing to the restroom, she locked the door behind her and looked at
the woman who stared back at her from the mirror.  He was right about
everything, she realized.  She just hadn't thought.  She hadn't been
strong enough, or considerate enough of all the other people who loved
William when he was a tiny infant just as much as she'd claimed she
had.

Digging in her purse for a tissue, she had nothing else to do but
think.

She didn't deserve love.  She didn't deserve life . . .

And then she saw it, in the bottom of her purse, secreted there for
protection should she ever needed a defensive weapon.  Chuckling
sardonically, she wondered if she now needed protection from herself.

She'd ignored the disaster she'd made of her life, as well as the
lives of those she claimed to love, for far too long.  She couldn't
take the responsibility any longer.  Carefully, she raised the small
hand pistol to her temple.

"Dana . . ."

Her head jerked around, but the room was just as empty as it had been
when she'd entered.  She swore she'd heard her name.  Shaking off the
feeling, she raised the gun again.

"Dana . . ."

"Okay, who's there?" she demanded.

Suddenly, from nowhere, there was a shimmering presence beside her.  
It spoke to her in a voice that was neither male nor female.  "Do not
fear me, Dana."

"What are you?  Some kind of alien or ghost or something?"

"You might call me that, while others may call me by one of many other
names. What I am called is not the issue at this point. I'm here
because of what you were about to do."

Dana laughed bitterly.  "What is this?  Some bad rip-off of It's a
Wonderful Life?"

"Your life is not a movie, Dana, and there will be no rewinding if you
do what you planned."

"What makes you think that I'd want to undo it?"

"Because you still live.  And I've come to offer you an opportunity."

Her tone grew immediately suspicious.  "What kind of opportunity?"

"An opportunity to exonerate yourself.  To save your life.  To make it
better.  But you will be in full control."

"Just stop the poetic rhetoric and tell me what you've got to offer,"
she said angrily.

"We, myself and others like me, have the ability to affect time and
space.  My offer is simple:  I will send you back to the key moment in
your past.  It will be as if none of this has happened, and you will
have no memory of the intervening years."  He didn't say it, but she
knew that he/she was speaking of the moment she gave William up for
adoption.  "If you make the same decision you made this time, you will
be instantly back here, at this moment in time.  If, however, you
choose a better path, a righteous path, time itself will alter and it
will be 2002 once again.  You'll be able to move forward into
eternity, a better person with a better life."

"None of this will have happened?"

"That is correct.  But you will be faced with the same choices in the
same circumstance.  We're giving you a chance most people never get,
Dana Scully.  A chance to correct an error you made in your past."

"Do I have a choice about this?" she questioned, suddenly uncertain.

"The wheels are already put into motion.  I am only here to explain
what will happen."

"Okay, since I really HAVE no choice, when will this . . ."

**

Staring down at her baby in his crib, she wept for how precious and
special he was.  She'd been so stupid to think she could protect him
here, like this. She'd been foolhardy with his safety, allowing
strangers into her home unsupervised.  She obviously wasn't up to the
task of caring for him the way he needed to be.

She rushed Monica and Agent Doggett out the door, then moved to the
phone, choosing the appropriate speed dial number.  The tones sounded
in her ear, and she was greeted by a warm voice a moment later.

"Hello."

"Mom," she sniffled into the phone.  "I need to see you.  Right away."  
It was all she could do to keep from openly weeping.  But, as usual,
her mother was there for her.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home."

"I'll be right over - stay where you are."

She paced the room, not stopping for more than a moment in the twenty
five minutes it took for her mother to arrive.  Not giving herself the
time to think.  She exhaled a held breath when the doorbell finally
rang.

"Mom!" Her mother was barely in the door when Scully collapsed into
her arms.
 There was nothing so comforting as a loving mother's embrace.

"What is it, sweetheart?  You're scaring me."

In between sobs, she explained the recent events to Maggie, leaving
her mother stunned and slack-jawed.

"Dana, honey," she finally said.  "I know better than most just how
dangerous your job is.  God help me, I've seen it first hand.  What
ever possessed you to leave somebody you didn't know alone in your
apartment with my grandchild?!  I really thought you had more sense
than that.  And if not, that Fox had taught you better."

"I don't know what possessed me, Mom! That's what I'm saying.  I'm
just not equipped for this."

"What are you saying, Dana?" her mother asked, the concern clear in
her voice.

"I'm saying that I'm wondering if William wouldn't be better off with
another set of parents.  Someplace where he would be loved, have a
simple life, and where I'd not have to worry about our enemies harming
him."

A few moments of silence passed between them, and then her mother
looked at her with astonishment.  "Are you saying that you're thinking
of giving up your son?"

"I think it might be best."

"Dana, you're being very selfish, don't you think?" Maggie said
coldly.  "You're not the only one who loves that little boy, and
you're not the only parent he has.  Have you given half a thought to
how Fox would feel about this decision?"

Scully was silent, realizing that she hadn't taken anything into
account.

"I guess that means the answer is no.  There's got to be a way you can
keep him safe without sacrificing him.  Fox would never forgive you."

"He emailed me awhile back, you know," Scully said wistfully.  "He
sounded so alone, it nearly broke my heart.  All he could do was beg
me to let him come home to William and me.  But I couldn't let him do
it.  I know he thinks he's protecting us, but actually, it's the only
way that I can be sure HE'S safe."

Maggie's eyes brightened and her eyebrows shot up.  "Dana, that's it!  
That's your solution."

"What is?"

"Send William to be with Fox!  He won't be alone anymore, the baby
will be safe, and when the danger is past, you can all be together
again.  It's the only solution, Dana."

"I don't know how that can work, Mom," she said.  "Mulder is on the
move constantly.  And even if he could do it with a baby, and even if
we were able to set up a 'meet' so he could take William, They would
follow me right to him.  I've been at this too long to believe that
I'm not being watched."

"We can do this, Dana.  We can work out the details.  Do you have a
way to get in touch with Fox?"

"Yes.  We have anonymous ID's on line, and one of us posts a message
containing new names we will set up and IM with at a given time."  
Her mother chuckled.  "I know it sounds cloak and dagger, but this is
important."

"Then do it.  I'm going to make a few phone calls, and we'll be set by
the time he meets you on line."

It went smoothly, although Scully still wasn't sure what her mother
had planned.  Hours later, the three of them were finally talking.

"Okay, Mom, we're ready.  What is this plan of yours?"

"You're coming to dinner tomorrow night."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are.  You and William are coming to dinner.  When you leave
that evening, you'll have one of your old dolls in the baby carrier,
and William will stay with me.  I talked to my friend Frank at the
used car lot, and he's going to lend me a car with dealer's plates.  
He'll come and pick me up the next evening, pretend we have a date,
but instead, I'll drop Frank off at home and drive to meet Fox with
the baby."

"But Mom, you'd be endangering yourself.  And how will Mulder have
time to care for him?"

"Just type my plan to Fox, dear, while I explain.  I have to be
honest, I haven't really felt fulfilled for a long time.  I no longer
have kids to care for.  I don't have a job.  You can only do so much
volunteer work."

Dana's eyes grew, her face astounded as she realized what her mother
was proposing.  "You're going to stay with Mulder and William?"

"That's what I want, sweetie.  And I pray you and Fox will let me do
this for you."

"Mom, you've seen some of the things I've gone through, that Mulder's
gone through.  You've watched what happened to Melissa.  If you do
this, you'll be putting yourself in grave and imminent danger.  Do you
understand this?"

Maggie didn't hesitate for even a second.  "Dana Katherine Scully, I
have lived a long, full life, and no, I'm not done with it yet by a
long shot.  But I can think of no better way to die, should it be my
time, than in caring for my grandson and reuniting him with the man my
daughter loves.  But that doesn't mean I won't fight like hell to stay
here with all these people.  The three most important people in my
life."

"We'll have to talk to Mulder, and we need a contingency plan," Scully
stated, turning from the keyboard.

"Then do it," Maggie said with a smile as Dana cheerily returned her
attention to Mulder, continuing to speak over her shoulder.

"I love you for doing this, Mom, but I won't needlessly endanger you
or Mulder or William.  If something goes wrong when you go to meet
him, I want to know that you're going to get to Bill's or Charlie's
where they can at least protect you.  Or to the nearest police
station, for God's sake."

"Dana, honey, I love you.  But you haven't exactly been thinking with
a level head since Fox left.  Please, let me do this.  I DO have a
level head.  And you might be surprised at just how covert I can be."  
Maggie smiled and enfolded Scully in her arms, whispering in her ear.  
"Now get back on that computer and talk to my future son-in-law."

**

Walter Skinner was dead.  He'd lived a long, happy, healthy life right
up until the end, but they still realized that his presence from their
lives would be sorely missed.  Dana Scully latched onto her husband's
arm as they entered the funeral parlor, looking up at him lovingly.  
He was still as tall and stately as ever, even if, at 65, he had an
occasional need of the dashing walking stick he always carried.

"Let me get that for you, Dad," a handsome young man said from behind
him, stilling his father's in reaching for the door pull.  No mother
was ever more proud of a son than she was, she admitted to herself.  
He'd grown up kind, considerate, loving, and extraordinarily
intelligent.  A psychologist, like his father, only specializing in
abused and abandoned children.  How close had she been to abandoning
her own son all those years ago?  Thank God it had been a fleeting
thought, and she'd found the better path for all of them.

Together, the small family approached the coffin. "Amanda was so
disappointed she wasn't going to be able to get home from college in
time to be here,"  William Mulder said to his parents.  "Remember how
I always used to kid her that she had a crush on Uncle Walter?  He was
always her favorite."

"Yes, and remember how I always warned you about teasing your sister?  
When all is said and done, family is all we have," Fox Mulder said,
hugging his wife closer.

"Skinner was like family - always there for us, even years before you
were a gleam in your father's eye," Scully said with a warm smile and
a wink to her husband.

"I know.  He told me such stories. . ."

"Yeah, some of them I would have rather he hadn't," Mulder laughed.  
"Despite all the sordid stories of your old mom and dad's past, you
managed to grow up to be a good kid."

"A damn lucky kid, I'd say," William said with a laugh of his own.  
"Hey, there's grandma.  I'm going to go say hi."

Watching their son William speak to his elderly but beloved
grandmother, Mulder and Scully realized how lucky they were.  And how
they truly must have taken the right path to be here together.

The End