Reunited II 2/4

Reunited II
Written August 1996
Rated PG-13
Synopsis: When Scully discovers who killed her husband, she decides to avenge his death in the only way she knows how–kill the murderer.  Sequel to “Reunited.”

Disclaimer: The characters you recognize belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Television. The song in this part is “One Sweet Day” by Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men and was written by those artists and Walter Afanasieff.  No infringement is intended.

A Youtube version of the song can be found here:

Scully’s home
Washington, D.C.
5:12 P.M.

Scully balanced the heavy sack of groceries in one hand and tried to open the door with the other one. Finally she succeeded, only to be bombarded by her dog upon entering her house. The bag’s contents spilled out all over the carpet.

Enfant de chienne!” She swiped her hand at the air, the sign that the dog understood as ‘get the hell out of the way’. It whimpered, running off, as she bent to pick up the groceries. “Oh, merde.” The loaf of bread had been smashed by the jug of orange juice, which had begun to leak onto the linoleum kitchen floor.

Mulder came running into the room. “Oh, Scully, are you okay?”

She looked up at him, rolled her eyes. “Fine, Mulder.”

“Let me help you.” He picked up most of the groceries and set them on the counter, then helped her to her feet. “There we go. What happened?”

“Fox happened. He gets excited when I come home and likes to jump on me when I walk in.”

“Ah, doggie troubles. Just thank yourself that he’s housebroken.”

She didn’t even want to think about it. She unpacked the groceries, abruptly stopping. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s teaching Sam how to swim. Well, maybe she’s teaching him. I don’t know.”

“They’re swimming?”

“Yeah.” He looked a little sheepish. “We borrowed a swimsuit you had for Sam. Amazingly enough, you two are the same size.”

“We’re also the same age and acquainted to the same infuriating man.”

“Why am I infuriating?”

She smiled weakly. “You just are.” She rummaged through the freezer and found some chicken patties. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“No, we wanted to wait until you got home.”

“You just wanted me to cook for you.”

“You distinctly told me not to destroy the house, which meant we couldn’t cook.” He grinned at her. “We went out for lunch.”

“Where did you go without a car?”

“We walked to Adams Morgan, did a little shopping.”

“Where did you eat?”

“Roxanne’s.” He nudged her. “Remember eating there one time?”

“You mean when you decided to get drunk and drag me along?”

“No, I mean for dinner.”


“Oh, that’s right. I have the photographic memory.” He finally looked carefully at her. She looked awful. “Something wrong, Scully?”

She frowned. “No, I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Because it’s only a little after five. Besides, I never get to spend any time with anyone any more.”

“So grab a suit, and let’s go swimming.”

She smiled slightly. “Okay.”


Scully tried very hard to look like she was having fun, and she was, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Krycek had said that morning. No judge in his or her right mind would let him out in five years, especially after he confessed to keeping Samantha against her will. Unless, of course, he pleaded insanity . . .

She was torn between two forces: avenging her husband’s death and Mulder. If he found out what she was planning on doing, he would never speak to her again.

Which is exactly why he won’t find out.  She smirked.

“Hey, Scully.” Mulder sat next to her along the water’s edge. “So what seems to be the problem?”

“Hmm?” She frowned, looking at him. “What?”

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

“Oh, nothing.” She turned her attention to Adam and watched him swim for a while.

“You can’t fool me, Scully, you never could.”

She glanced at him again. “It’s just this case that came across my desk this morning. Sounds like an X-File, and it brought back thoughts of old times.” She was surprised how easily lying came to her.

“Ah, I see. Well, you don’t have to be so sidetracked all the time. Come on, get in the water.”

She followed his light orders and splashed around with her family for a bit.  My family, she thought warmly.  Yeah, I guess they really are my family.

It wasn’t long after that the rest of her family showed up; both brothers and their families and her mother. All of them were in the pool soon enough.

“We hope you don’t mind,” Mulder told her later. “We invited the whole clan.”

There was Scully’s oldest brother, Bill. He was a naval captain like his father, married a pleasant woman named Tara. They had a teenage son and two younger children.

The youngest Scully, Charles, was a district attorney for the city of Washington, D.C. and the metro area. His wife, Medley, was also a lawyer. They had four children living with them, three living away from home. Valerie was 11, the twins Jeremy and Matthew were 9, and little Melissa, named after Charlie, Dana, and Bill’s deceased sister, was 5.

“I finally convinced Harmony to come up,” Medley was explaining to her sister-in-laws while they sat in the hot tub. “She and Jason agreed to fly in this weekend. Jason had some vacation time coming up. They’ll be here soon.” She smiled at Dana. “They’re gonna be glad to see Fox. He hasn’t seen Harmony since graduation.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scully said softly. “How are they doing down in Cape Canaveral?”

“Oh, splendidly. Harmony’s expecting.”

Tara scoffed jokingly. “Already? Bill and I have been married longer than them, and we aren’t pregnant yet.”

“Yet being the operative word, Tara.” Medley smiled. “It took Charlie and I quite a while, and now we’re happy with what we have. What about you, Dana?”

“Hmm?” She looked up. She had been thinking about Kwan and Krycek. “What? I’m sorry.”

“I just wanted to know if you were happy with your life.”

I will be once I finish with Krycek and the bastard who killed my husband.  “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Excuse me.” She climbed out of the hot tub and headed inside.

Maggie was making lemonade in a large, clear pitcher. She looked up, startled, when the patio door shut. “Oh, Dana, hi. What are you doing?”

She entered the kitchen. “Nothing. Are you making a mess?”

“Me? Dear, I’m your mother. We’re messless people.”

She chuckled softly. “Mom?”

“Yes, dear?” She started mixing the lemonade with a wire whisk.

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it. “Never mind. I’m going to my room and change.”


Scully headed for her bedroom and flipped on the light switch. After a moment, she turned it back off and peeked out the patio door. Mulder and Samantha were chatting in the shallow end of the pool. Her brothers were playing volleyball. All of her nieces and nephews, along with Adam, were playing some sort of game. Her sisters were still in the Jacuzzi. She saw her mother bring out the tray of lemonade, and she closed the shade.

She changed into a pair of plaid, flannel pajamas and headed downstairs with the basket of dirty laundry. When she opened the basement door, Fox began to pant, his tail wagging furiously. “Hey, boy.” She patted his head. “Sorry about earlier.”

He woofed quietly and followed her down the stairs. She entered the spacious den and headed for the laundry room. Just before entering, she looked to her right: the spare bedroom. She knew what she kept in the spare bedroom, which was all the more reason she didn’t want to go in there. But, within moments, she found herself reaching under the bed for the scrapbooks, Fox resting beside her.

The first one was her wedding album. Inscripted in gold calligraphy on the cover was “Frank Kwan and Dana Scully” for one line and “January 28, 2003” for the next. Tears came to her eyes as she flipped through the pages of time. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. She had fulfilled the old wedding adage. She had worn her mother’s old dress; it was simple and elegant. The dress itself was white silk without much of a train. The sleeves were lace. The new object was the veil. It was made of chiffon and French lace.

She had borrowed quite a few things because everyone had offered something. She ended up wearing Medley’s pearl necklace. In her hair, she wore Missy’s favorite barrette that was given to her in the will–she still insisted that it had been borrowed, wanting to keep her sister’s spirit alive on her special day. It was a pearl barrette she had used to sweep all of her hair up into a low bun. The ends had then been curled tightly. Her friend, Cheri Evans, had fixed her hair and makeup, as she had done for Medley and Tara.

Blue was her lace garter–“Something had to be blue,” she had declared upon showing it to her family. Frohike had ended up catching it.

All in all, the day had been much more than perfect. Someone up there had blessed her with good fortune. The best thing was that she had only thought of Mulder once that day. Once, and that was it. That was when Walter Skinner, former assistant director of the FBI, had given her away. She and Mulder had often joked that he would give her away on her wedding day “unless, of course, I’m the one marrying you.” So naturally, he came to mind as Skinner walked her down the aisle. But she would never change a thing. With or without Mulder, the day went wonderfully.

The night even better, she thought wildly, thinking back to their honeymoon in the Caribbean. A smile came to her lips at that.  And all nights thereafter.

She finished flipping through the album, smiling through her tears. The next book she grabbed was the one of Adam. She went through all of the pictures: before his birth–God, I was huge!–to his delivery and how weary she looked, to his first birthday and first Christmas, up until the current year. He really was a wonderful boy.

The last photo album was one of pictures complied before she joined the FBI.

Wow, she thought, looking at herself as a baby, it’s amazing how much I look like my mother.  She came across a picture of the family. Dana herself was five. Bill Jr. was 8 then, Missy was 6, and Charlie was 4. Her parents were smiling over them. She sighed, remembering the times when Dad and Missy were still alive. Holidays were livelier, days fun-filled, life genuinely better.  But look how far I’ve come. I’m doing fine.  She finished the book and slid it back under the bed.

Another photo album caught her eye. Funny, she didn’t remember that one. She reached for it and held it in her hands. Oh, my . . .  These pictures were from her bureau days; graduation, first assignment, new partner. She eventually found ones of her and Mulder, when they were together. No other influences.

Now there’s Samantha.  True, she was jealous that Samantha was taking up so much of Mulder’s time.  But it’s not my place. We both love him, want him in our lives. I’ve had him longer, yes, but I want him back.  She sighed. Selfish, that’s what you are, Dana Kate. Very selfish.

She closed the book before finishing it. She didn’t want to think about Mulder or Samantha or Adam or Frank. She wanted to forget all of the bad things. No, of course not.


She stood up, pushing the albums further underneath the bed. It was Mulder, bounding down the stairs. Fox barked once, then again, warning Scully of an intruder. “I know, Fox,” she said quietly, entering the den. “What?”

He was wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt a size too small.  All the better, Scully thought. “Where were you?” he asked. “Your mother said you were in your room.”

“I came downstairs to do laundry.”

He glanced down at the still-full basket of dirty clothes. “Oh. You got a lot done.”

She picked it up and entered the laundry room. “I got distracted.”

“Hey, you’ve got a whole other house down here!” He wandered into the bedroom. “And another Jacuzzi. Gee, Kwan treated you well.”

She smiled faintly as she heard him rummaging through the bathroom. She started up the washer and sighed. Housework was tiring, even for her. She left the laundry room, turning off the switch on her way out. She glanced towards the bedroom. Mulder was sitting on the floor, photo album on his lap. He touched a photo fondly.

Her heart fell. Oh, he found the pictures. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much that he found her photos. Maybe because she was still a little upset about his leaving for five years.

He looked up, tears in his eyes. “Scully, he–Adam looks like me.”

She entered the bedroom and knelt beside him. She eyed a picture, one where she was holding an infant Adam in her arms the day after she returned from the hospital. True–he did look a lot like Mulder. “I know.”

“He was a beautiful child. Still is.” He sniffed, turning the page. “I’m sorry I missed all of this,” he whispered quietly, taking Scully’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

She gulped. “It’s okay, Mu–”

He interrupted her. “Like hell it is. I missed the first four years of Adam’s life. He’s my only child, the only son I have and probably ever will have. I haven’t been there for you or him. I’ve been nonexistent. Then I come back, and you take me in as if I’ve never been gone. I should’ve told you where I went. I should’ve said something. I . . . I missed out on something important, Scully.”

“You missed out on four years of his life. You don’t have to miss out on any more.” She paused, and he looked up at her, his eyes glistening with tears. “Stay here. You and Samantha can move in with us. You can leave whenever you want, and she can go when she’s ready. But for now just stay here. Adam needs you, I need you. I don’t want you to leave again.”

He held her tightly in his arms. And then they both began to cry.


Nearly a half an hour later, Mulder and Scully finally made their way upstairs. For that time, they had cried together as they turned through the two photo albums that pertained to the two of them: the one of Adam and the one with pictures of their bureau days.

Everyone was still outside in the pool, splashing and laughing. Adam had just come inside. “Where were you, Daddy?”

He knelt to his son’s height. “Your mom and I had to have a little talk, okay?”

The boy nodded. “Are you going to leave again?”

Mulder shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam hugged him, then went to his mother. “I love you, Mommy.”

She smiled, her eyes filling with tears again. “I love you, too, Adam.”

“Can I still go swimming?”

“Of course you can.” She touched his cheek softly. “Go on.”

“Are you coming?” he asked both of them.

Scully shook her head. “I’m not, dear. Mulder?”

“No, Adam. I’m going to get something to eat. I might come out when I’m done, though.”

“No, Daddy, you can’t. Mommy said you shouldn’t swim for at least twenty minutes after you eat because you might drown. I don’t want you to drown.”

He grinned. “Okay, I’ll wait for twenty minutes. You better go out there and watch your aunt Samantha. She might need help.”

“Okay!” He hurried back outside.

Scully chuckled softly, and Mulder turned. “What?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like father, like son.”


Delaware State Penitentiary
two days later
7:15 A.M.

Krycek stood up as Scully entered the cell. “Did you get it?”

She sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “They won’t go for five, but they will go for ten with parole. Now what do you say?”

He sucked in some air. “Gee, you know, Director, I can’t quite remember the name of the guy . . . ”

She grabbed him by the collar. “You listen to me, you bastard. I’m doing you a favor. No judge in his right mind would give you ten with parole. But I have connections, and I got it for you. Now you tell me the name.”

He laughed, an insane, high-pitched giggle. “Nothing you do or say can make my life any more miserable than it already is.”

She smirked. “Oh, yes I can.” She released him and began to slowly pace the cell. “How does life in prison sound? Not miserable enough for you. Let’s see . . . solitary confinement in a dark, rat-infested hell hole in the middle of Alaska with no heat? Huh? That sound fun, Krycek? You know, I’m sure there are some men up there who are just dying to get their hands on you. I’m sure solitary confinement is lonely. How about being locked in a cell with the biggest, meanest Jeffrey Dahmer wanna-be who’s spent 25 years alone with no . . . companionship? Oh, yeah, that’s it.”

“You couldn’t.”

“I got you ten years with parole, didn’t I? I can get you this.”

He was beat; Scully would make sure his food was crawling with cockroaches and his cell full of rats and other creepy, crawly creatures with sharp teeth. She could get anything she wanted; she was the female counterpart of J. Edgar Hoover. She and the President were good friends, and she could persuade him to do anything. Krycek was sure that if she ran for president in the next election, she’d get it hands down. “All right, all right, I think I remember the name.”

“You’d better.”

“Go to 900 West Georgia Street tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. He’ll be there at that time.”

“You better hope that your information is accurate because if you’re lying . . . ”

“I’m not! I swear!”

“Why at eight?”

“Tomorrow at eight is what time I was supposed to come had I gotten the job done of killing you and Mulder.”

She nodded curtly. “Who is it, Krycek? Who did you pay to kill my husband?”

“I didn’t pay him. He wanted to do it. He’s always hated traitors to any organization and has done his best to kill anyone–and he’s always hated you.”

“Who is it?” she repeated.

“You have to promise that you won’t tell him you got the information from me.”

“Who i–”

“And you have to make sure I get ten years with parole.”

“Yes. Yes, you will. I promise. Now what’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “You don’t know his name.”

“Well, he never told me. But he’s been around a long time.” He paused. “It’s the man Mulder calls Cancerman.”


On the drive home, Scully’s mind wandered to the meeting with Krycek. Cancerman. She remembered him. She remembered everything Mulder had ever told her about him. He was evil.

She arrived in Washington a bit after nine o’clock. She headed for the bureau to check in. “Hi, Sarah.”

Sarah Johnson, her mild-mannered secretary, looked up at her. “Good morning, Director Scully. Can I get you anything?”

“How about the New York Times and a cup of coffee?”

“Right away. That nice man was here again.”


“Fox Mulder.”

“Really? What did he want?” She fished for the key to her office.

“He just wanted to put something on your desk. I let him in. I hope that’s okay.”

“Always, Sarah.”

“Good. I’ll go get your things.” She headed out.

Scully opened the door and saw a single yellow rose sitting on her desk. She sighed, smiling, and picked it up. Underneath it was a simple note–“I love you.”

Sarah returned and saw Scully holding the flower, a far-away look in her eyes. “Director?”

She jumped slightly and looked at her. “Oh, thank you, Sarah.”

“I don’t think they’d mind if you only worked half a day today. After all, Adam is at school, you’d have the whole house to yourselves.”

She raised an eyebrow at her. “Sarah!” She sighed. “I’d already thought of that, but his sister’s there, too.”

“She has a mother she can visit.” She chuckled. “I’m sorry to pry, Director. Please excuse me.”

Scully laughed once she had gone. Sarah could be funny.

There was a light knock at the door, and Assistant Director Joe Stenwick stepped inside. “How are you?”

“Oh, fine, thanks.” She headed to the bathroom to fill a vase with water. “What’s on your agenda today?”

“I figured maybe we could make a round of the offices, then you could head home early. I can handle things here.”

“Have you been talking to Sarah?” she scolded, putting the vase on her desk and submerging the flower gently into the water. “Look, I appreciate the thought, but it just isn’t like that with us.”

“Dana.” He took her hands. “When Fox came in this morning to put that flower on your desk, he stopped by my office. He told me that he’d never been happier in all his life, being with you.”

“I think you misinterpreted me with Samantha.” She eased out of his grip. “He’s happy that she’s back, safe and sound. That’s all. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, I think it does. See, he asked me for advice on getting you to ease up. He said you’d been very distant lately.”

“He said that?”

“Yes. He also said that he didn’t know how to talk to you any more. He misses the closeness you once shared.”

She shook her head. “No, he would tell me.”

“He doesn’t know how.” He sighed, rubbing his mustache thoughtfully. “I want you to go home and talk to him, Dana. Tell him how you feel.”

“Joe, I–”

“No. Go home. We’ll make these rounds, and you’ll leave. You’re off tomorrow anyway. Just think of this as an early birthday present.”

“My birthday was two months ago.”

“So? Christmas then! Just go!”

She glared playfully at him as he pushed her towards the door. “Con.”

He sighed. “I really have to learn French to get along with you, don’t I?”


He groaned, closing the office door behind him.


Scully’s house
12:13 P.M.


Scully felt very strange coming home to someone. The only time she’d ever come home and have someone be there was when Kwan was sick or Adam was home. But that hadn’t been for a long time.

Samantha entered the kitchen. She smiled. “Fox didn’t say you were coming home for lunch.”

“Actually, I’m home for the rest of the day.” The dog padded into the kitchen and woofed happily. She patted its head. “Hey, boy!”

“How come?” Sam asked.

Scully looked up at her. “Joe–uh, that’s my assistant director, he told me to go home.”

“Oh, that was nice of him.”

She studied Samantha’s appearance. Her brown hair was so flat and straight. Her face was pale and plain. With a little beauty help, she could be really attractive. “Samantha?”


“Could I . . . ” She reached out and took a few locks of hair into her hands, rubbing them between her fingertips. “I have a little knowledge. Would you mind if I did you hair and makeup?”

Samantha actually looked relieved. “No. Please do. It’s nice of Fox to take me shopping and get me some clothes but . . . he really doesn’t know much about women, does he?”

“He spent the last five years with four men. Unless one of them was a transvestite, I don’t think so.”

She giggled. “What about before he disappeared? When you two were partners?”

“Oh, I taught him a thing or two. I doubt he really paid much attention.”

They went into Scully’s bedroom. She rummaged through her bureau and found some scissors, makeup, and a two-inch curling iron. “I hope you don’t mind if I give you a complete makeover.”

“No. I really need to look more . . . alive.”

“Good.” She grabbed her scissors and began to cut. “Wait–music. Don’t move.” She headed for the stereo by her bed. “What should we hear . . . how about this? This is a tape Mulder made me a long time ago.” She popped it in, hit play, and returned to cutting Sam’s hair. The song ‘One Sweet Day’ came on.

Sorry, I never told you
All I wanted to say
And now it’s too late to hold you
Cause you’ve flown away,
So far away . . .

Scully bobbed her head up and down slightly to the beat of the music. She cut Samantha’s hair very carefully. “My sister taught me how to cut hair when I was 15.”

“Is she a hairdresser now?”

She hesitated. “No, she–she died over ten years ago. She was murdered.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized sincerely, aware that she hit a soft spot.

“It’s okay. Missy did do hair for a while. She was trying to get some clothes she had designed picked up by Calvin Klein at the time she died. She also ran a jewelry store downtown.”

“Gee, she was really busy.”

“Yes, she was. They did end up buying her clothing designs, and we used the money for her funeral.” She finished cutting her hair. It now went down to the bottom of her shoulder blades. “There we go. It’s a good thing I put a towel down before I started. You have a lot of hair.” She plugged in her curling iron and excused herself, taking her makeup case out of the bathroom and bringing it back into her room. “Here you go. You can pick some colors that will look good on you while we wait for the curling iron to heat up.”

Samantha picked out a mocha rose blush and ivy eyeshadow. “Is this okay?”

Scully smiled. “Yeah, I think so. The iron is probably hot now.” She took Samantha’s hair and tied it into a ponytail on top of her head with a ribbon that matched the color of the blush. “For looks.” Then she took it out and began to curl sections of hair tightly into ringlets.

“Dana?” Sam began a few long minutes later.


“Can I ask you something? I’ll understand if you don’t want to tell me, but . . . ”

She paused, sensing the question. “What?”

“Will you tell me about your husband? Fox mentioned something, but when I pressed him for answers, he said he didn’t know.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well . . . everything.”

Scully smiled softly. “I’ll be right back.”

End of Part 2


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