TITLE: The Valley of Shadows 2: Father's Day
AUTHOR: bellefleur
E-MAIL: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION: sure, but let me know
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORIES: X/mythology
KEYWORDS: missing scenes, post-ep
SPOILERS: William
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to FOX, CC, etc.
SUMMARY: A parting, and a reunion

Notes: This story is the second part in a series that 
rewrites the end of season 9 and then branches off in its 
own direction.  Each part is meant as a stand-alone piece, 
without any cliff-hangers between parts. There's no 
guarantee, however, how often I will post or how soon the 
series will be finished.  So, if that qualifies as a WIP to 
you, read at your own risk.  But I prefer to think of it as 
a series, not a WIP (a fine distinction, I know).

Read Part 1 at: 
www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013/shadows_toc.html

Thanks to Obfusc8er for the beta and for putting up with my 
demands and nagging.


* * * * *

"Fold."  Langly tossed his cards down on the table.

"Frohike?"

"Too rich for my blood.  I've got to hold on to something 
for the next round."

"Well, then I guess you guys will never find out if I was 
bluffing you."  Mulder set down his hand, face down, and 
then scooped up his pile of winnings.  He neatly stacked 
the disks in piles of ten.  Three more pennies, and he'd 
have a full dollar.

Frohike pulled the loose cards into an untidy mass and 
shoved them across the table.  "Your deal, Langly."  

Begrudgingly, Langly straightened the deck and began to 
shuffle.  "Man, what I wouldn't give for a nice game of D&D 
right now."

"Hey, it's either this or bingo down at the community 
center," Frohike gibed.  "Somehow, I think this is the 
better deal."

Langly scowled and flung the first card at Frohike, adding 
a little too much force and sending it off the table into 
his lap.

"So, what's the game, Ringo?  You gotta call it before you 
deal," Mulder said.

Langly opened his mouth to answer, but he was preempted by 
the trailer door bursting open.

When Gibson entered, he didn't even seem to notice Mulder's 
guests.  His wide eyes were focused solely on the man he 
sought.

"I had a dream, about a baby.  I think it's yours.  Someone 
came to hurt him.  Someone who was supposed to be you."

"What?  Gibson, slow down.  How do you know it was 
William?"

"There was a woman with red hair, and I'm not sure, but I 
think she was saying your name.  And I didn't understand 
this part, but there was something about a frog named 
Jeremy."

Mulder didn't bother to explain or correct that last bit.  
It was enough to make a connection.  He had grown to value 
Gibson's insights, especially over the past few months as 
the two fugitives spent more time together.  Gibson's 
premonitions were rare, but they were not to be dismissed.

Standing swiftly, Mulder was too preoccupied to notice his 
chair tip over behind him.  He was immediately in motion.  
"William's in trouble.  I have to go."

A beat passed before it could sink in to the two bystanders 
just what was going on; once the information had time to 
register, Frohike stood and jumped into Mulder's path.  
"Whoa, hold on a minute there, buddy.  You can't just go 
rushing back to Washington.  There are people who want you 
dead."

Mulder leaned over Frohike, both in intimidation and in an 
effort to push past his unyielding form.  "What the hell 
does that matter?  William's in danger, and for all I know, 
so's Scully.  I can't just sit here.  I have to go."  

"Then let us go.  We can go back to Washington and find out 
what's going on."

Mulder sighed in exasperation, trying not to lash out at 
his friend, but his patience was wearing thin.  "Look, 
Frohike, I appreciate the offer, but you two aren't federal 
agents."

"Neither are you."  That knocked some of the wind from 
Mulder's sails.  At the sag in his posture, Frohike's tone 
gentled.  "I know you want to go, but there's a reason why 
you went into hiding.  For all we know, whatever's 
happening right now might be intended as a trap to lure you 
back to Washington.  Now us, on the other hand, we're 
already a lost cause.  Nobody's looking for us because 
we're supposed to be dead.  It's the perfect cover." 

Mulder was doubtful, but he didn't shoot down the option 
yet, so Frohike continued.  "At least let us scope out the 
place first.  We'll make arrangements to get information to 
you right away, and then we can tell you whether you should 
come back or not."

As agonizing as it was, Mulder knew his friend was right.  
Looking over the shorter man's head, he met Gibson's eyes 
in an appeal for more details or a strong feeling about 
this decision.  But the boy just shrugged back at him, 
having no more to offer.

Turning away from Frohike, Mulder paced a few steps, 
weighing his options, before facing him again and 
responding: "Fine.  I'll give you 24 hours' head start, but 
if I haven't heard from you by then, I'm going myself."

Frohike nodded and then gave a slap on the back to Langly, 
who sat there looking a little shell-shocked about what he 
had just been volunteered for.  "The clock's ticking.  
Let's go."

"Hold on to your panties a minute, buster.  Don't I get a 
say in this?"

Frohike fixed him with a challenging gaze.  "It's either 
this or bingo.  Take your pick."

It took Langly less than five seconds to gather up his 
poker winnings and fly out the door.

* * *

Wearily stepping out of his car, Skinner locked it behind 
him and moved off toward the elevator.  It had been a long 
day, but it wasn't the clock alone that was wearing on him.  
The fact was, he was emotionally drained, mostly from the 
tumultuous feelings that he dared not let surface.  He 
still wasn't sure that he agreed with Scully's decision, 
but he also didn't feel he had the right to question it.

As he was reaching for the elevator button, he paused.  He 
had let his guard down, preoccupied as he was, but his 
instincts were now on alert.  No other cars had entered the 
parking garage after him, but he thought he had heard 
footsteps.

Turning swiftly with a hand on his holster and readying his 
weapon, he scanned the shadowy recesses of the lot.  In his 
peripheral vision he caught a movement, and his gun was 
raised and pointed in the blink of an eye.

"Federal agent.  Hold it right there.  Raise your hands and 
walk into the light slowly."

But when the figures entered the circle of dim light, his 
arm wavered.  For a moment, he began to question his own 
sanity.

Then the apparition spoke.  "No need to shoot, G-man.  
We're not armed.  Besides, you've got a pretty good draw 
there, so I doubt I'd stand a chance."

"This is not happening," Skinner mumbled to himself, but 
loud enough for the others to overhear.  "I'm just tired.  
I've had a long day.  I just need a good night's sleep."

The blond apparition now spoke, but to his companion.  
"Man, I told you he wouldn't believe us.  We should've gone 
to Scully."

"You know we couldn't take that risk.  She's probably being 
watched, and then someone would've spotted us."

"Then what about that Monica chick?  She'd probably talk to 
us, even if she thought we were really dead."

"Hold it!" Skinner interrupted.  "There's no way my mind 
would make up this conversation.  What the hell is going on 
here?"

Now that the gun was lowered, Frohike dared to step closer, 
bringing him further into the light.  "Well, first of all, 
we're not dead."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to catch on to that.  I think you owe 
me an explanation, especially considering the favors I had 
to call in to get you three buried in Arlington."  Skinner 
frowned as he realized the discrepancy before him.  "Wait a 
minute, what about your other friend, John Byers?  Didn't 
he make it?"

Frohike exchanged a glance with Langly and then carried on.  
"Last we heard, he was alive and kicking, but that's 
another story.  The reason we're here now is because of 
William.  Mulder received word that he might be in 
trouble."

Skinner narrowed his eyes and looked between the two men.  
"You know where Mulder is?"

Frohike scanned their surroundings and stepped closer.  
"The walls have eyes, and maybe ears.  Do you think we 
could continue this somewhere else?"

* * *

Langly self-consciously adjusted his cap again, making sure 
the stray hairs were tucked up in the back, even though he 
couldn't really be seen in their shady booth in the back 
corner of the bar.

As Skinner finished his narrative of the events of the last 
few days, culminating in Scully's shocking decision to give 
up her child, Frohike let out a whoosh of breath.  

"Wow.  No wonder Gibson felt something was wrong.  But 
William's okay now, right?"

Skinner nodded.  "As far as we can tell.  But Scully 
believes that as long as William is in her care, he will 
always be in danger.  You two know the truth of that well 
enough from the kidnapping a few months ago."

The buddies shared a sheepish look.  The memory was all too 
fresh of how William had been placed in their charge, and 
then taken from them--by a woman, no less.

Langly spoke up.  "So, uh, is this final?  Has she already 
done the deed?"

"We initiated the paperwork today.  She wanted to expedite 
things and avoid the normal channels so that no one will 
notice until he's already out of reach.  I spent the better 
part of the afternoon making arrangements."

Frohike jumped in.  "Wait a minute.  Doesn't Mulder get a 
say in this?"

"Well, as far as I understood, Scully had no way of 
contacting him.  But with you here, I suppose that changes 
things."

Frohike looked at his watch.  "He'll be expecting us to get 
in touch with him soon.  Maybe we can propose an 
alternative." 

"You have something in mind?"

"Yeah.  A place for people to go when they don't want to be 
found."

Skinner frowned at the cryptic answer, but then his brow 
smoothed and he nodded once, indicating that he understood.

"What about Scully?" Langly asked.

Skinner looked uncomfortable as he answered.  "We can't 
tell her.  If she knows where he is, it will put the boy in 
danger, which will defeat the whole purpose of what she's 
doing."

"Then what are you going to tell her?" Frohike countered.

"That her son will be cared for and well loved."

The three men avoided one another's gazes, the awkward 
pause highlighting the gravity of what they were about to 
do.

Frohike broke the moment.  "I'll contact Mulder and start 
laying plans.  We'll let you know as soon as we have the 
details."

With another curt nod, Skinner moved to slide out of the 
booth, but Frohike stretched out a hand to stop him.  
"There's something else you should know."

Skinner shifted back into his seat and waited for the 
explanation.

"We told you about our, uh, escape, but not about who was 
behind it."

"Who?"

Frohike glanced over at Langly and then responded: "Deputy 
Director Kersh."

Skinner huffed out a laugh.  But as the two men across from 
him remained somber, his smile dropped.  "You're not 
kidding."  Both men shook their heads.  "Alvin Kersh?  But, 
why?"

"We're not entirely sure.  Maybe to smoke out Mulder, but 
we haven't seen any evidence that we've been tracked or 
followed."

"No ninja dudes shading our ass," Langly added helpfully.

"He just made some comment that he was tired of being a 
pawn," Frohike summed up.  

Skinner nodded thoughtfully.  "That's a sentiment I can 
understand.  Maybe the man finally realized just where he 
stands."

Frohike shrugged.  "Maybe."

A foreboding silence descended, lingering around the three 
as, one by one, they inconspicuously rose from their 
shadowed booth and trickled out the door.

* * *

Two lone figures waited in the dimly lit parking lot, one 
of them cradling a sleeping baby to her chest.  She hummed 
quietly to him in off-key tones while her companion kept a 
watchful eye on the shadows.

Beams from headlights sliced across their faces, announcing 
the car that pulled into the lot and slowly came to a stop.  
A woman stepped out, a kindly smile gracing her face, but 
Scully did not see it.  Her eyes remained riveted to the 
precious bundle in her arms, resting there so trustingly.

Skinner moved to help the woman.  The two busied 
themselves, transferring the car seat from one vehicle to 
the other, foreshadowing what was to come.  When the task 
was completed and only one thing remained to be done, they 
waited patiently and wordlessly, sensitive to the fact that 
this parting would not be easy.  

Scully turned away from the scene, immersing herself in the 
darkness.  As the minutes extended, she felt a warm hand 
settle on her shoulder.  "Dana, it's time."

She placed one last kiss on the downy head, then tugged 
down his cap to keep him sheltered from the cool air.  He 
stirred slightly as his weight was shifted from one set of 
arms into the other, but he didn't wake.  Scully ached at 
not seeing his beautiful eyes one more time, but she was 
also grateful; she wasn't sure that she'd be able to let go 
of him with his innocent eyes asking her "why?"

Her watchful gaze remained fixed on the back seat until the 
car had turned onto the road and disappeared from sight.  
She and Skinner were left alone in the darkness, the air 
around them eerily still, deathly quiet.

A tentative hand came to rest on Scully's back.  It was 
unfamiliar there, making her ache for the touch she truly 
desired.  

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."  She had intended it to be more than the 
whisper that came out.

"Dana..."

A hand ventured to her cheek and gently tugged her face in 
his direction.  She watched Skinner's mouth move 
hesitantly, struggling to form words that remained 
unspoken.  Finally, he offered, "He'll be in good hands."

But not hers.  She nodded and closed her eyes against the 
torrent of tears that would no longer wait.  A sob escaped, 
and strong arms wrapped around her, holding her to a warm 
chest.  But the attempt at comfort only made her feel the 
loss more profoundly.  There was no soothing presence 
awaiting her at home--and even if he were, she feared that 
he would never forgive her for what she had just done.  

So consumed with her own guilt, Scully did not look up to 
see reflected in Skinner's eyes the very same emotion.

* * *

"I want you to meet William."

Mrs. Van de Kamp smiled down at the baby in her arms.  He 
watched her with wide eyes, and she marveled at the fact 
that he didn't seem frightened around so many strangers.

Mr. Van de Kamp stepped forward to shake hands with the 
social worker.  "Thank you so much.  You have no idea what 
this means to us.  Is there any more paperwork to be 
signed, or is this the last of it?"

"No, this is it.  You now have full custody.  Is there 
anything else you need from me?"

The couple looked at each other, and Mr. Van de Kamp moved 
close to his wife to place an arm around her shoulders.

"No, I think we're all set.  We're just so happy to finally 
have him here."

"Well, all right then.  You have my number, so just call if 
you need anything."

The couple stood and waited as the social worker and her 
companion got into their car and drove away down the 
isolated road.  As soon as the vehicle was out of sight, 
the pair moved into action.

Frohike opened the front door and met them halfway.  "Are 
we clear?"

The man going by the name of Van de Kamp answered, "She 
said it's finalized.  They scheduled a follow-up visit, but 
by then, our trail will be cold."

His wife handed the baby toward Langly, who held him 
awkwardly, but William didn't seem to mind.  "Can you guys 
handle him from here?  We don't have much time to get the 
house cleaned up and move out before the owners come into 
town."

"What time does their flight get in?" Frohike asked.

"It's not a scheduled flight--private jet.  The guy's a 
movie producer, or something like that.  He flies in from 
LA every other weekend.  The word from our contact is that 
he's due back tonight."

Frohike stepped forward and extended a hand to his old 
friend, known to most as Joe Fuhrman.  "Thanks for 
everything.  This means a lot to us, and especially to the 
boy's father."

"Hey, no problem, Mel.  Just don't be a stranger.  The 
newsletter may be out of circulation, but you've still got 
a lot of friends out there with their eyes and ears open."

After a few more words of farewell among the four, Frohike 
and Langly hastened to their car parked around back and 
headed for New Mexico.  They still had a long drive ahead 
of them, and they were eager to see this errand to its 
conclusion.

* * *

Mulder could hardly sit still as he waited for the car to 
finally arrive.  He had spent the better part of the last 
few days like this, sitting and waiting--or, more 
accurately, pacing and waiting.  Gibson kept him company 
for most of that time, but he had received no further 
dreams, and contact with the Gunmen had been too limited 
for Mulder's liking.

The crunch of gravel outside was the first indication, but 
Gibson quickly confirmed, "They're here."

Mulder emerged from the trailer just in time to see Frohike 
exit the vehicle with the precious cargo sleeping in his 
arms.  Without a word, the two men made the exchange, and 
Mulder cradled his sleeping son to his chest.

"I can't believe how big you are," he whispered into 
William's ear.  "I've missed you so much.  I just wish your 
mother could be here with us."  Mulder didn't even realize 
he was crying until he saw the teardrop splash onto the 
child's face.

His world reduced to this one small bundle, Mulder was 
oblivious to his three friends who quietly made their way 
to the car and back down the drive.  Mulder's eyes were 
riveted to the round, perfect face as his legs mechanically 
carried him up the steps and through the door of the 
trailer.  

A newly acquired rocking chair waited in the corner, amidst 
piles of baby paraphernalia and books on parenting.  Mulder 
toed a stack out of his way, unconcerned when it tipped 
over and spread across the floor, and took a seat in the 
weathered rocker.  At the change in position, William 
sleepily blinked his eyes open.  

Mulder couldn't help the bright smile that broke out across 
his face.  "Hey there."

The boy blinked up at him once, then closed his eyes again.  
But even in his sleepiness, he shifted toward Mulder's 
chest and started moving his lips in a suckling motion.  
Having nothing else within reach, Mulder offered his 
finger.  He chuckled when the poor substitute was soon 
rejected.

"Not quite the same as Mom, huh?"  Mulder sighed and 
repositioned William so he could lean down and kiss his 
soft forehead.  Into the quiet, he whispered, "I promise 
you, Scully, I'll take good care of him."

William shifted again but remained asleep.  With a push of 
his foot, Mulder set the old rocking chair into motion.  To 
its creaky rhythm, he gently began to sing:

"Jeremiah was a bullfrog..."


**********
End part 2
**********

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