Family Ties
nikki, February 1998

Rating: PG
Category: angst, M/S friendship, UST
Keywords: Mulder, Scully, Samantha, death, friendship
Summary: Unexpected news about Samantha threatens to change
Mulder and Scully's lives forever.
Archive: Anywhere, as long as my info stays attached.
Spoilers: Quagmire, Home, Redux II, Emily
Feedback: Yes, oh yes!!! I will not get better at this if you don't
tell me what did and didn't work. (But please don't tell me how
farfetched this is, I already knew that--it is fiction after all.)
nikoleaw@aol.com
Disclaimer: At last check, Mulder, Scully, T. Mulder, The Smoking
Man, Emily Sims, Skinner, Samantha Mulder and Family
still belonged to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and 20th
Century Fox. (Granted, I took some liberties with their
names, but hey, I'm not the one who changed Samantha's
middle initial from T. to A, without warning!) Officers
Witpek and Sikes and Lynn Kingston are mine, but you can
borrow them if you ask nicely. This is written and
distributed for fun, not profit and no harm is intended.
Thanks to Carly, Gerry, Sylvia and Traci.

She sighed as she wiped her paint-splattered forearm across her sweaty
forehead. Only as an afterthought did she wonder if she might have just
inadvertently wiped paint into the hair that had escaped from her ponytail
to rest on her face.

"Umm. Mulder, why are we doing this again?"

"Because, I was out of town when they came through and painted all of the
units. They couldn't get through all of my locks so they couldn't get in to
paint mine. The landlord said there's some health and safety ordinance that
requires that all units be painted at least once every five years. So,
unless I want a bunch of guys I don't know trooping through here, I have to do it
myself."

Scully shook her head and continued to sweep her brush back and forth
against the kitchen doorframe in short, even, strokes. As if of its own
accord, her eyebrow lifted itself, just fractionally, as she quirked up the
corners of her mouth and asked, "Well, how come I get the hard part when
it's your apartment?"

Mulder looked down at her from his perch on the stepladder and grinned.
"Hard part?! You're doing the trim! I'm the one breaking my back to get to
the ceiling!"

"Yeah, but you have the easy paint. I hate this semi-gloss stuff, if you
don't put it on just right, it looks funny."

Mulder stopped and looked at her. "Scully, I don't know what you do in
your free time, but I don't go around checking out how well painted the
trim in my apartment is."

She dipped just the tip of her brush into her paint tray and then turned and
flicked the paint off of the brush at him. Since he was standing on the
second step of a small step ladder, she was only able to hit him in the
ankle. As she saw the burst of eggshell colored paint land on his already
speckled navy sweat pants and his mock indignant expression, she couldn't
help but smile.

Further commentary was halted by an insistent pounding on the door.

"Scully, I'm kinda indisposed at the moment, can you get that? Whatever
they've got, I don't want it."

She set her brush down on the corner of the paint pan and went to the door.
Looking through the peephole, she saw the all-too-familiar uniforms of the
Alexandria Police.

She unlocked the door and an officer stepped forward. "Hello ma'am.
We're looking for a Mr. Fox William Mulder."

Scully didn't move to let them in, instead asking, "What is this regarding?"

The officer was not deterred by Scully's firm stance. Smelling the fresh
paint, and seeing the furniture and floors covered with sheets, the officer
began to worry that perhaps a move had occurred. "Is this the Mulder
residence? Is Mr. Mulder available?"

"Yes...but I'd like to know what this is about."

Mulder walked up behind Scully and looked at the officers.

"Are you Mr. Fox William Mulder?"

"Yes. Why, what's happened?"

"I'm Officer James Witpek and this is my partner, Officer Sikes. We're
here as part of a cooperative agreement with the Westchester County, New
York coroner's office. I'm afraid that we have some unfortunate news for
you, sir."

Mulder put his hand on Scully's shoulder and drew her back into the
apartment, giving the officers enough room to enter, and giving him the
reassurance that she was there, would be there for whatever disaster they
were about to lay at his feet.

"Do you know a Samantha Anne Thorstein Martin?"

Mulder's face screwed up into a perplexed look. "Mulder. Her name is
Samantha Anne Thorstein Mulder. She's my sister."

The officer noted Mulder's refusal to accept his sister's married name and
briefly wondered what controversy lay at the heart of this family. At the
moment, however, had a sorrowful task to perform. "She and her husband,
Phillip Martin were killed in an auto accident. They were hit head on by a
car being driven by an intoxicated teenager. All of those involved in the
accident were killed instantly."

Mulder's grip on Scully's shoulder tightened tremendously. She gasped,
both from the shock of the words she had just heard as well as from the
pain in her shoulder.

"When did this happen? Where is she? I have to get to her!" Mulder let
go of Scully, turned and strode briskly through his apartment, intent on
packing a bag and getting to Samantha as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Mulder, sir, calm down. The accident occurred yesterday morning.
Mr. and Mrs. Martin are at the Westchester County morgue, where they
will remain until you sign the appropriate papers to have their bodies
released. It took them until this morning to acquire all of Mrs. Martin's
personal documents and locate your name and address within them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Martin had listed one Lynn Kingston as their next of kin to
contact in case of an emergency. So of course, she was notified and the
children, one Felicia, age 3 and one Steven, age 5, were left in her care.
However, she did at that time mention to the officers that Mrs. Martin had
recently informed her of a long-estranged brother, and that she and Mrs.
Martin had discussed and filed the appropriate paperwork to cede custody
of the children over to you should anything happen. Ms. Kingston, while
apparently a very close friend of the Martins, is a fairly recent widow who
is a bit overwhelmed with six children of her own. It was at Ms. Kingston's
urgings that the Westchester police searched the Martin house to locate the
documents relating to the care of the children. The documents were
located, the names, addresses and signatures verified and everything was
couriered down here. As soon as it all arrived, we were dispatched to
notify you." The other officer silently held out a large manila envelope.

The senior officer took the envelope from his partner, then reached into his
breast pocket and removed a card which he placed on top of the envelope.
"Again, I'm Officer James Witpek. This is my name and the main desk
number here. You can call me if there's anything we can do on our end."
He turned the card over and pointed to a series of names and numbers
scrawled across it, "I wrote down the name and number of the lady from
the Westchester County coroner's office. You'll need to talk to her to
arrange for the disposition of the bodies. Under her name, is the woman
from Child Welfare, who you'll need to talk to about getting everything
squared away with the children. This is the number for Lynn Kingston, the
next of kin I told you about, and this is the name and main desk number for
the Officer in charge of your sister's case."

Mulder stared at him as if he wasn't there, prompting Scully into action.
She took the proffered card. "Thank you. We appreciate your coming
here. I know how difficult a job it is. We'll call if we have any other
questions or need anything."

She moved the officers forward and had the door closed and locked behind
them before they could say anything more.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself to turn around. Silently, she
walked back into the apartment and held out the envelope and card to
Mulder. She noted the steadiness of his hand as he took the items from her,
and she willed the tremors in her own hands to cease.

He walked to the window and stood there and looked out. He watched the
officers get into their patrol car and drive away before he made any attempt
to open the envelope. Peering inside, he saw a business sized linen
envelope with only his name written on it. Ignoring it, he removed the
other documents from the envelope and laid them out on top of the sheet
that was covering his computer desk. A copy of Samantha's will, recently
modified, a copy of Phillip's will, and a notarized document regarding the
custody of their two children in the event of their deaths. He then slowly
withdrew the smaller envelope. He placed his finger under one edge and
gently pried the envelope open. He withdrew the folded paper from the
envelope and gently sat on the tarp covered couch, heedless of the small
paint puddle he sat on.

"Dear Fox,

As I write this, I am praying desperately that you will never have cause to
read it.

I know that you don't understand why I pushed you away, why I asked you
not to look for me anymore. Please, try to understand, that what you were
telling me, what you were asking me to believe conflicted too strongly with
all that I knew, all that I was and am. My father was not the evil man that
you believed him to be. He loved me and cared for me. I am certain that if
he knew of your search for me and kept us apart longer than you would
have liked, that it was simply out of his desire to protect me.

Please know that I never doubted that you were indeed my brother.
Although I have few memories of my childhood, I do remember you and I
know that we loved each other.

I have recently amended my will to reflect that in the event that something
should occur to Phillip and I, that you should be given custody of our
children, Felicia and Steven. Phillip was an only child of a couple who had
him late in life. Both of his parents have passed away. My father was
brutally murdered the day after you and I met. My best friend, Lynn, had
been our original choice as guardian for the children, but the recent death
of her husband and her struggles to care for her own kids, forced us to
reevaluate that decision. I chose you and Phillip agreed. Partially
because you are my brother and hence, uncle to the children, but mainly because, I
believe that you will love them as no one else can. You showed your
devotion to me and to our family through your search for me. You
demonstrated your love by letting me go. That night, after we left, my
father said that you were a white knight, looking for a kingdom to save.
Please, let my children be your kingdom. Give them the love and affection
that they need.

I know it won't be easy. I'm asking a lot of you. And raising children,
even ones as good as Felicia and Steve, isn't easy. It's hard to know just
how much love to give, when to say no and when to let them learn on their
own. But I believe that you can do it.

I know that you said that mom was still alive. I never got the courage to
contact her. If you're reading this, it's too late. Please tell her that I
loved her.

Thank you Fox. For never giving up your hope of finding me, for
respecting my wishes to be left alone, for loving me and, I hope, my
children, as if they were your own and for being my brother.

Samantha"

Tears silently tracked their way down Mulder's face as he carefully laid the
letter out on a clean space on the covered coffee table in front of him. He
rose and walked towards his bedroom, swallowing audibly, and forcing
himself not to break into sobs as he said, "I have to pack."

Scully had stood quietly in the middle of the livingroom as he went through
the contents of the envelope. As he'd read the letter, she walked to his
desk and reviewed the documents he'd left behind. His reaction to the news of
his sister's death, and of her proximity to him all this time was not right
and it disturbed her. Where were his demands for an autopsy? For proof that
this woman, whomever she was, was really his sister? She had traveled
with him on his journey to find her, to uncover the truth of what happened
on the night she was taken--she knew the depth of emotion it stirred within
him, the ferocity of his need to know. She knew how shattered she felt at
the news of Samantha's death--this was not how she'd ever envisioned
finding out Samantha's whereabouts. She began to worry about his low-key
reaction, that Mulder was shutting himself off, heading for another
catatonic state, as he had done when Samantha had first been taken.

____________

He was throwing things into a bag without thought. He'd forced his tears to
stop, telling himself that he had more important things to take care of. He
didn't hear her approach him from behind.

"You knew. You knew she was alive...you saw her...talked to her."
Scully's voice was full of hurt and bewilderment. She knew that this was
supposed to be Mulder's time, his time to think and to grieve, but this news
was too big, it had too many implications to be put off. She needed to
know the truth and she needed to know it now, before Mulder had any
more time to think about it, to soften its edges, to further "protect" her.
Her words sounded harsher than she'd intended them to. "You knew, and
you never said a word. How long had you known? How many more dirty
little secrets do you have, Mulder?!" She demanded of him.

Mulder stopped packing and momentarily hung his head. He'd wanted her
to know, but even at the end, he hadn't the courage to tell her. So he'd
left the letter out in plain view, knowing that she would read it and come to him
demanding answers. Answers that he still didn't know if he was prepared
to give. Refusing to turn around and face her, he began.

"I saw her...that night...the night before your cancer went into remission.
The Smoking Man...her father...brought her to me. She and your
remission...she was supposed to be...the final inducement for my joining
his side. She didn't want to see me. She didn't want to believe that she'd
been lied to about her family, about me, my search for her. She didn't want
anything to do with me. Told me to stop looking for her...that if she
wanted to talk to me again, she'd find me. I was going to tell you, that
night...but you were asleep, and you looked so pale and weak...and
I.....then, you were in remission and the Smoking Man was supposedly
killed and...it just didn't seem that important right then."

Scully's eyes were ablaze. "Not. That. Important. Our lives for the last
six years have been consumed by this, this quest, to find your sister, to
find out what happened to her, to find the truth. She was the key to your truth!
You found a woman who claimed to be her and you thought that it wasn't
that important?!?" Suddenly, a thought clicked into place. Her next words
were out before she'd had a chance to think about what their effect might
be. "She didn't know anything about your alien abduction hypothesis did
she? All she knew was that some all-too-human men came and took her
and performed all kinds of painful and hideous procedures on her! Didn't
she?!!! Didn't she??!!! That's what happened, isn't it, Mulder? That's
why you didn't want to tell me...because you were embarrassed and ashamed,
that all that we've suffered these past few years was for nothing!!!!"
Scully was shocked by both the force of her anger as well as the wellspring of
carefully hidden emotions that was underneath it. Pain. Hurt. Relief.
Betrayal. Love.

Mulder turned around and faced her. His face and voice were chillingly
devoid of emotion. "I didn't tell you at first because you were dying. And
then, then you went into remission. You had a life to look forward to, and
I had you...She didn't want me in her life, didn't want to be in mine, but
you were going to be ok. At the time, it made everything with Samantha seem
less important. I had a choice to make Scully, I'm sorry if my choice was
wrong."

The meaning of his words struck her like a slap in the face. Her remission
had made finding Samantha less important. She had, for that brief moment
in time, replaced Samantha and in a sense the truth, in the center of what
she had once called, "his megalomaniacal cosmology." Her rage dissipated
as quickly as it had appeared to be replaced by, an overwhelming sadness
mixed with fear. Sadness over Samantha's death, over the grief that Mulder
was keeping inside. Fear of what had happened to them, was happening to
them and of what was to come. "Mulder..." Wearily, she sat on the edge
of his bed amongst his scattered clothing. "...you should have told me. I
wanted...this wasn't just about you. It was *our* quest. I wanted to know
the truth about Samantha too."

"No, Scully. She was *my* sister. Finding her was *my* quest. You
were just unlucky enough to get caught up in it."

"That's not true. I stuck with you because I wanted to. Because I believed
in the truth and in your search for it. Because I wanted to be there with
you and for you when you found the truth, regardless of what it was....I guess
you're not the only one who chose poorly."

Mulder looked at her for a moment longer and then resumed his packing.
The sadness in her last words slicing through him like a razor, leaving
behind a sharp and stinging pain to add to his ever-growing collection.

He zipped his bag shut and hefted it off the bed, walking through the
apartment and setting it on the floor near the door. He went through the
apartment, making certain that all windows were closed and electrical
appliances turned off. He recapped the paint cans and took the pans and
brushes to the sink, where he turned on the faucet let the water cascade
over them.

Scully went into the living room and picked up his phone. She was just
hanging up when he reentered the room.

She spoke with a quiet resolve. It was a tone he was accustomed to. It
was the one they both used after a particularly harrowing case. The one
that acknowledged all of the things left unsaid and screamed of their desire
to simply go on as if nothing had happened. "I left a message for Skinner.
I told him that a family emergency came up and that it involves Samantha.
We'd be gone for at least a week. I've booked us on a 5 o'clock United
flight to New York and arranged for us to pick up a rental car at JFK."
She walked towards the door, stopping to take her coat out of the closet,
where they'd put it earlier to keep it from getting any paint on it. "I'm
going home to pack. I'll met you at the United counter." Looking at him
with just a hint of her usual wryness, she said, "I recommend that you
change before you leave, otherwise they might not let you on the plane."

"Scully,...you don't need to go..."

Her tone was patient, forgiving. "Yes, Mulder, I do. You've kept too
much from me. I won't allow you to keep this away as well. I need to see
her, to know for certain that it really is Samantha, that the search really
is over. And I think someone needs to be there for her children, to explain to
them what happened and what's going to happen to them. And, you'll
probably need some help getting things straightened out with Child
Welfare, making certain that they get put in the right type of home,
investigating potential guardians."

A part of Mulder's mind idly wondered just why Scully's moods suddenly
seemed so volatile, raging at him one minute and worried about his sister's
children the next. He thought back to how he'd behaved when Emily was
dying, making silly faces for her one minute and nearly killing the man
responsible for her suffering the next. He remembered how he'd made a
conscious effort at the time to not examine his motives and the emotions
behind them too carefully. He decided to give Scully the same leeway.

Suddenly, the meaning of her words sank in. Mulder stopped his
ponderings and stared at her. "What?"

"Mulder, you're going to have a million details to deal with. Arranging the
funerals, letting your mother know what's happened, you won't have the
time to thoroughly investigate potential adoptive families."

"I don't need to. The kids are staying with me. I'll stay in Westchester
with them until I find a bigger place and work out how to get them enrolled in
school and all that other stuff here."

Despite all that had happened, Scully was shocked, and it showed.
"Mulder, do hear what you're saying? Do you have any idea what you're
saying? These are children, Mulder. Children, who need a good, stable,
loving home environment. Above all, that's what Samantha wanted for
them. Do you really believe that you're the person to give that to them?"

"She asked me to, Scully. I have to. I owe it to her. And I owe it to
myself."

Scully's tone was sympathetic. "Mulder, despite what she may have
written in her will, no Social Service agent in their right mind will allow
you to have custody of those children. You're an FBI agent, constantly in
danger, a nearly 40 year old single male from a broken home, who's never
had a stable relationship."

"That's not true."

She looked at him questioningly.

"There's us. We've been together six years. Our profession forces us to be
closer in some ways and to trust each other more than most married
couples ever do."

She laughed ruefully. She threw her hands up. "Look at us. Right now.
I'd hardly call this stable."

"I'd do it for you. I did. Even though I didn't think it was the best
thing to do, I knew how much you wanted Emily, and I stood by you."

Her face took on a distant look. "Mulder,..." His name was an
exasperated cry. "You went in there and told them a fantastic tale that
even I could hardly believe. Only at the end did you emphasize your belief that
I would make a suitable mother. And I have to question how seriously
they could take your character reference after the story you told."

He said nothing. Simply stood by the edge of the couch and considered
her.

Her eyes conveyed a sadness that she refused to allow into her words.
"Mulder, I'm sorry, but I don't think that being with you will be good for
those children."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Would being with you be good for them?"

"Mulder, this isn't about me or you. It's about those kids..."

"I know that. That's why I'm asking. Do you think that you could provide
a good home for them? With my help?"

"Mulder, don't do this. Not now. I can't..." She shook her head at him.

Mulder was emboldened by what he saw in her eyes--fear tinged with
hope--a hope that she had forbid herself, but which was there nonetheless.
"Scully, please....I mean, you've said you wanted kids. Well here are two
of them. Good kids, who've just had a terrible tragedy in their lives.
They need love and warmth and, and all of the things that I think you can give
them. That I can give them. And...and...and I think that Samantha
would've wanted it that way. That she would've liked you and that she'd be
happy knowing that her kids are in your care."

She had at least a hundred potential reponses in mind, all of which dealt
with yet another reason why the children needed to placed within a real
family. But this time, she thought about Mulder, about the encouragement
that he seemed to derive from being told that something was the "wrong"
thing to do. She knew that he just needed to keep moving forward, that
eventually, he would do the right thing. She kept her voice neutral as she
responded. "I thought you were going to help."

"Our care. Does that mean you'll do it?" Mulder's eyes and voice were
intensely focused on her.

Her posture screamed of her need to get away from him. To have some
time to herself to think through what had just happened and what it all
meant. Her mental exhaustion was evident as she quietly replied, "No,
Mulder. It doesn't mean anything...look, I have to go if I'm gonna meet
you on time." She opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

He called after her, "Scully,...will you at least think about it?"

The elevator arrived and he barely caught her words as she stepped in and
allowed the door to slide shut in front of her. "Yes, Mulder. I will."

The End.