From: "pjtdjt" <pjtdjt@stellarnet.com>
Date: Wed, 5 Jun 2002 22:31:52 -0500
Subject: SUGARLAND
Source: direct

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 up 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.