Calendar Girl II: Everything
by Jori

The search continues. Scully ponders last year and what she has now that she didn't have then, and what's now missing. NC-17

This story follows Calendar Girl II: Seeing You

**********

Scully's Apartment
July 3, 2000
6:58 a.m.

I knew this day would have to come. The day my abdomen has a slight swell to it and my pants don't fit the way they used to. My mother taught me the trick with looping a rubber band through the hole and around the button, but I'm not ready for that yet. They are just a little snug.

Looking at myself closely in mirror, I notice the changes to my face are more pronounced than the changes to the rest of my body. The puffiness around my cheeks is already distinct and my eyes have dark circles under them from all the hours I don't spend sleeping. Maybe I don't look so much like I'm pregnant as I look like I haven't slept well in weeks. Months?

The clock in the living room chimes out the hours and I go to the phone, waiting for them to call. Every morning, seven days a week, like the chimes on that clock, this phone rings at seven o'clock in the morning. No wonder I'm so tired.

*Brrrinnng*

*Brrrinnng*

"Hello, Frohike. I'm fine," I say as I pick it up. They insist on checking on me every single morning,rotating who has to call, just to make sure I survived one more night of being pregnant and alone. I should be happy someone who's not related has taken such an avid interest in my well being, but every morning? If it is Monday, it is Frohike's turn to call.

"Um, Agent Scully, it isn't Frohike. It's Byers. Frohike is working on getting the paper to bed and I thought I'd call and see how you were doing," Byers says softly into the phone. Although Frohike might be the closest thing to a best friend Mulder has outside of me, Byers has been the most supportive through all of this. The other two are now in charge of all the operations to bring Mulder back. Byers is in charge of my general welfare, including all my doctor appointments. Somehow, since they discovered I was pregnant, they seem to have forgotten I'm an intelligent adult who can more than take care of herself.

"Good morning, Byers. I am actually fine," I say, ready to hang up the phone and get to work. Most of DC is taking today off, but I can't. There's too much to get done while I can still do it.

"Agent Scully, we think we have a lead on that Automated Applied Aerodynamics source Agent Larson was in contact with. We are just beginning to put the pieces together now, but I think you might be interested in it. Can both of you come over this afternoon to discuss the matter?" Byers asks politely, as if there might be an option in this. Any lead is better than nothing at this point.

"Yes, John, we'll be there around 2 p.m. Will that be okay?" I ask and am met with only silence. I'm sure my use of his first name is the cause of this. Well, he did volunteer to be my Lamaze coach if we don't find Mulder in time. I guess it is about time we get to know each other on a first name basis.

"Y-yes. That will be fine," he responds, hanging up the phone quickly.

Please, let this be something this time.

*****************

Office of the Lone Gunmen
July 3, 2000
2:13 p.m.

If Frohike and Nicole get into one more spat about something as minor as who sits where, I'm going to slap them both. It is like having two children in the room and I'm not sure where this animosity is coming from.

Perhaps Frohike is afraid she's the permanent replacement for Mulder. Perhaps Nicole really just hates the way he stares at her breasts when he thinks she's not looking. Either way, they are giving me a migraine.

"Do you have anything I can take for a headache?" I ask as I rub my temples. Langly jumps up eagerly to get me something.

"We have some Advil . . ." he starts to say, but Byers interrupts him.

"She's not supposed to take Ibuprofen. Please bring her the Tylenol instead," he tells Langly, looking at me with concerned eyes. "And get her a glass of juice. Or milk."

"Wow. These three know so much that they even have detailed knowledge of what medicines you're allergic to," Nicole says snidely to Frohike. I think she's also upset with the invasion of privacy she has suffered since moving into Mulder's apartment. All her phone calls are monitored and I'm hoping the boys didn't go ahead and set up that security system complete with hidden cameras they were discussing a few weeks ago.

"No, Agent Scully isn't allergic to Advil, she just . . ." Frohike starts to explain. I interrupt.

"My stomach just can't tolerate it," I explain, looking to Byers for a further explanation as to why they would know this. I'll also have to explain to him that I can take Ibuprofen up until my third trimester. He's just being overly cautious. I wonder how many books the boys have read in the last few weeks? I see a copy of 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' peeking from behind some other books.

"Ah, I see," Nicole says, looking each of us over and waiting for one of us to crack. Or else I'm just a little paranoid. Maybe she honestly doesn't care at all.

Langly returns with two Tylenol and a juice glass that used to be a Flintstone's jelly jar. I'm really not sure what kind of juice is in it. Either white grape or apple. I'm just glad that it isn't red Kool-Aide.

"Is that okay?" Langly asks, doting on me too much. "We have orange juice, too, but I didn't know how your stomach felt lately. Ever hurl orange juice? It isn't a funny thing, especially if there's no vodka in it so you don't remember it later."

Now Nicole is interested. She should be able to figure this all out soon if these three keep it up. She was working at getting into VCS until she got waylaid into this position. Her eyes travel around the room, examining everything.

"I thought you said you had a lead or some news?" I inquire, drawing her back into the proper conversation and away from the shelf of pregnancy books.

"We certainly do. It concerns the one and only part Automated Applied Aerodynamics produces for the DOD. This part seems to spell certain doom for the pilots flying whatever plane its in. Over the past three years, there have been five so called crashes," Byers starts to explain.

"Oregon being the last," Frohike interrupts, handing me a folder stuffed with documents. "None of these are 'official,' by the way."

"So what does this part do?" Nicole asks. She leans over my shoulder to read the documents and I have to close my eyes for just a few seconds. She is scented of Mulder's apartment. Why wouldn't she be?

"We are still trying to find out exactly what that little part does. It is so covert that I'm not even sure the people who make it knows what it does. At least not the ones we talked to," Langly adds.

"Our sources are still trying to find out who ordered it put in those planes . . . beyond the DOD. But so far, information has been scarce," Byers says.

Nicole looks at each of them as they speak in turn, almost sounding like one person.

"Then that's it. We find out what that thing is and get it operational and we attract . . . whatever it is that crashed that plane and . . ." Nicole starts but ends up shaking her head with the complexities of the whole thing.

"It's a start," I say with a heavy, exhausted sigh. "It's better than what we knew a few days ago."

The phone number that Captain Lawton called from was untraceable. Langly tried to explain it all to me, but the bottom line was still the same. If Mulder is near here, we don't know where. Nicole hasn't received any more calls at the apartment, either. Everything is a dead end.

"What ever happened with those college kids and the sightings on campus?" Frohike asks. I hope this story doesn't make the next paper, but it probably will. It's just too good for them to pass up.

"We're just waiting for the next full moon to see what happens. I don't think there's really a 'monster' there beyond what those kids can imagine after chugging a six pack of brewskis," Nicole says and Frohike just frowns at her, giving her a piercing look.

She certainly isn't Mulder.

***************

FBI Headquarters
July 3, 2000
4:15 p.m.

I watch as Nicole gathers up some files, puts them away in a drawer and prepares to leave for the day. Most of DC didn't even go to work today, starting the holiday early. I didn't want to waste a day sitting at home doing nothing. I would have accomplished the same thing that I did here, but I feel better in the office. It's my only sense of purpose.

"Do you have plans for the holiday?" she asks as she pulls on her suitcoat, buttoning it around her thin waist. "If you don't, some friends of mine are getting together and we'd be happy to have you along. I know how it can get . . ."

She stops and looks at me.

"Lonely?" I finish for her.

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay. I'll be fine. My brother and his family are in town for vacation so I'll be going over to my mother's house to explain some things to him. It promises to make for an interesting day. He hated Mulder. I'm sure he'll have some pointed things to say in regards to this mess," I say with a sigh.

"Yes, telling family things is always interesting. I remember telling my father the real reason I had left my husband. I was open with everybody else but him. All those years, my parents always saw me with men. They'd come and visit me in college and I'd have a guy come to dinner with me. The one time they visited me while I was at the Academy, I had . . . um, a man come with me when we met them. Then I got married for God only knows what reason. Yes, breaking the news to my dad was quite the experience. All he said was it was a good thing Mom was already dead," Nicole says as she gets her keys out and walks toward the door. "I'm assuming your brother already knows about you and Fox? And he knows exactly what it is you two were trying to do here?"

"Oh, yeah," I say, smiling at the memory of how Bill 'discovered' that Mulder and I were together in more ways than just a working relationship.

Nicole stands there jingling her keys looking at the door but not going out it.

"Does he know about the baby?"

I knew it wouldn't be long until she figured it out. It was only a matter of time before this became an issue and I hope she doesn't let it disrupt our work. I have enough people watching over me.

"No."

She turns to look at me, still flipping her keys around in her hand.

"We'll talk about it on Wednesday. I'm sure you already have enough on your mind," Nicole says, opening the door.

"Thanks," I say and she just smiles that patronizing smile I thought we were through with. Now Nicole has one more thing she thinks she needs to feel sorry about. She's still smiling when she pulls the door shut behind her.

***************

Margaret Scully's house
July 4, 2000
4:18 p.m.

I walk outside, escaping the caustic remarks Bill keeps tossing my way. He doesn't even know the whole story yet. He was already out of control when I told him that Mulder was missing and I had no way of finding him. I don't need him finding out about the baby just yet. Not until I get myself pulled together more.

The gazebo offers the only protection from the mid-afternoon sun and I walk quickly across the lawn toward it, hoping no one follows. Tara just stood there staring in disbelief as I tried to explain what most likely happened to Mulder. Bill laughed and then the yelling started.

I sink down into one of the lawn chairs my mother has out here and cross my arms over my chest, trying hard not to cry. I want to, but I will not let my brother get the better of me. I've had enough already and even though I knew this was going to be difficult, I don't need to be treated like this.

Last Fourth of July was so different. We were offered everything and Mulder and I turned it down. We didn't want a family if it meant giving up everything else. Now, we could have everything including the family, but he isn't here for any of it. I hope he figured out my message as quickly as the boys did. Maybe he never even got it.

I miss him. Oh God, I miss him so much. Someone sets off a series of firecrackers in the next backyard over and I hear a child start to scream. Their father tries to soothe them and then I hear their mother take over, talking softly until the tears stop. Someday, that will be my child crying in fear when they hear a loud noise. I'm going to have a child. I'm going to have to soothe them. I just don't want to have to do it all alone.

Closing my eyes, I settle in for a nap. I'm so tired of looking. So tired of not finding. Just once, I want all the answers handed to me. . .

"You didn't think he was really going to give you everything that easily?" you asked, finally breaking an hour's worth of silence as we drove home from the empty office complex. I know what I saw. C.G.B. Spender had an office set up there.

Set up. That's the key word here. I was set up and now you won't even look at me. I trusted in the ultimate evil and I can't make you understand that all I wanted was . . .

Everything. I wanted everything.

No, it wasn't all altruistic on my part, either. I hoped that if this disk had the cure to all diseases, it would also restore my fertility. It could give us hope.

But you just won't understand. You pull up in front of my apartment and don't make a move to get out. You don't even look in my direction. Are you that mad at me? How many times have I forgiven you after you went off? You could at least forgive me this once.

"I'll see you in the morning," you said, still not looking at me. I couldn't let this go on. I just couldn't take you being so angry at me.

"What did I do so wrong? Why are you so upset with me?" I asked, my voice filled with the anger I've been harboring since I discovered that disk was blank. Since I discovered I'd been had. And most of all, since I discovered you felt I betrayed you somehow.

"Because . . . you believed in him. You followed him willingly," you said, still not looking my way.

"I only followed him because of what he had to offer. I never trusted him, but I had to know, Mulder. I had to find out for us. What if . . ." I started to say, but stopped. We haven't discussed this in so long.

You finally turned to look at me, your face still showing so much disappointment.

"And I'm angry because he used you. He cheated you and he already has cheated us out of so much. This one thing . . . he could have given it to you as reparation for all he has taken away. But he's too goddamn selfish for that," you said, your voice rising in anger as you went on.

"Mulder, you should trust me enough by now to know that I wouldn't have done this without hoping to . . . get more than a date with a sick man," I said and you almost smiled. Yes, the thought of me dressed up and out with that man somehow amused you. Probably because you knew who I wanted to be with. He could have the cure for all that ails him, but he couldn't have me. Only you can. I haven't told you yet about him changing my clothes while I was asleep. I didn't even like to think about it.

I released my seat belt and leaned toward you, placing my hand on your shoulder. Your eyes were so soft and I knew part of your hurt was because I was used. Not just because I went off without telling you where I was going.

"Please, come inside," I said, moving my hand down to yours and clutching your fingers. With your other hand you released your seat belt . . .

"Dana, will you please come inside," Bill says, startling me from my dream. Why couldn't he just let me be? He probably knew I was dreaming about Mulder.

"There's more," I say, blinking my eyes in the light.

"How could there be more?" Bill asks as he sits down on one of the benches. "Never mind. With Mulder, there's always more. What is it? Dana, your cancer isn't back, is it?"

A look of panic crosses his face as he realizes the more to my story may not necessarily focus on Mulder but on my health. Maybe he will realize this is good news.

"No, it has nothing to do with my cancer. As far as I'm concerned, it's good news," I say, a smile coming to my face. It's more than good news. It's the best of news.

"What is it?" he asks, looking more concerned than angry for the first time today.

"Bill, I'm pregnant."

Mercifully, he says nothing for a minute or two. He doesn't even blink.

"How?" he asks and then grimaces, not wanting all the details behind that. "I mean, I thought . . . you said . . ."

"I don't know everything yet, Bill. I believe something might have been done to me while I was . . . I can't even explain it all. I went with the man who's been behind most of this . . . he took me on a wild goose chase, but while I was with him, there was a period of time I can't account for. Maybe he did something, but I don't think he's capable of such things," I say, struggling to explain. There is no easy explanation.

"So, Mulder might not be the father?" he asks. His face is now blank and I can tell he doesn't know which option is worse.

"Mulder is the father of this baby," I say without an ounce of doubt coming across my voice. I can't doubt that one thing. It is all I have right now. This is his baby. Our baby. I don't want to believe anything else could be possible.

"Okay," Bill says. He really doesn't know what else to say. I wish he'd be happy for me this one time. This is something just a year ago I didn't even dare to dream for. "Did Mulder know and still go off on whatever it is you said he did? Because if he left you like this, so help me God, Dana, I'll . . ."

"He didn't know. I found out right after he disappeared. Bill, he never would have left otherwise. Not if he had a choice. He wanted this for me . . . for us, just as much as I did. That's why I have to find him."

"He didn't find you," Bill says, his tone biting.

"No, they returned me. But I'm not going to stop looking for him. Maybe he'll be returned to me, too. Maybe I'll find him before that. I can't quit trying," I say, sitting up and putting my feet on the ground. I'm still tired, but I'll catch up on my sleep later. I don't need to stay around and watch fireworks. My heart's just not in it.

We both sit in silence as he lets this news soak in. I watch as a squirrel tries to get up the pole to the bird feeder. Bill intently watches something in the opposite direction.

"If . . . when he comes back, are you going to get married?" he asks. He plays with his wedding band on his finger but doesn't look at me while waiting for my answer.

"I don't know."

"I think you should," he says, and I expect some long moral argument as to why he thinks this is. I don't need to hear a damn thing about being pregnant and unmarried. I'm in my thirties and well beyond needing that lecture.

"Why?" I ask, my voice filled with little sister defiance already. Bill and I have our moments where we get along great, but he still thinks of me as his baby sister who can't always take care of herself. I don't know why. I've always been able to take care of myself.

"Why? Because you love him. What other reason would there be?" Bill asks, giving me the first sign ever of any genuine approval of this relationship followed by a shrug of his shoulders.

"No other reason I can think of," I say. Finally, our eyes meet and he gives me a quick smile before looking away.

No other reason at all.

*******************

Scully's Apartment
July 4, 2000
9:58 a.m.

Firecrackers are still popping off in the distance as I fold myself up on my couch, trying to get comfortable. I turn on the TV, leaving it running even though there's nothing good to watch. The noise keeps me company.

I slide my hand over my stomach, waiting for the day someone moves back under my touch. I should be able to feel him or her soon. I wonder what our baby is going to be? I always wanted a girl until this all happened. Now a part of me wants a little boy that looks just like his father.

In several more weeks, I'll be able to undergo an amniocentesis to determine more about this little one. Bill might have to question the paternity, but I don't. I can't even fathom anything else right now.

The phone rings, startling me. I pick up the handset, not sure I want to answer it. I'm not prepared to take any more news of any sort after the day I had. But then again, I have to. It might be good news.

"Hello?"

"Agent Scully, it's John. John Byers. I was just calling to . . .um . . . I was just calling."

"I'm doing fine, John. I had a long day at my mom's house and I was just going to get ready for bed," I say. I turn off the TV and get up from the couch, heading toward my bedroom. It's late and I need some sleep. I'll have to make myself sleep.

"I also wanted to remind you that you have a doctor's appointment Thursday and I'll be picking you up at 2 p.m. so we can get there on time," he says softly. I can hear Frohike and Langly bickering about something in the background.

"I can get myself to the doctor, you know. You really don't have to go through all that trouble," I say as I climb into bed, pulling the comforter over me. I'm in bed while on the phone with one of the boys. This isn't supposed to ever be happening.

"I'll be there to pick you up. Don't worry about it," he says. "I'll see you then."

"Good night, John," I say, acquiescing to their demands. They won't give up that easily.

"Good night, Agent Scully."

I turn the phone off and toss it somewhere on the bed, wanting so badly to just fall asleep. After work tomorrow, I'm supposed to meet Tara and we're going shopping. It wasn't my idea, but she was just too excited when I told her the news to turn her down. Something about maternity suits. I never really even thought about it.

Clutching one of Mulder's pillows tight, I try not to think about what might be. These thoughts like to creep into my brain right before I fall asleep. What if I never find him? What if I find him like that man in the storage unit in Kansas City? What if . . .

"What if that disk wasn't blank?" you asked me as soon as you settled on the couch. I carefully avoided you, checking my answering machine instead and going to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. "Scully?"

"There's no point in worrying about what ifs, Mulder. You know that," I said. I sat down on the couch but not close to you. I wasn't sure if you wanted me close.

"And if it made it possible for you . . . for us to . . ." you started, not knowing how to express something we both want but have no way of getting right now.

"That's what I was hoping for."

You leaned toward me without saying a word. I felt your fingers move across my arm until you took my hand in yours. "I'd give up everything this time."

I shut my eyes, knowing it was the truth. You would give up everything now that you knew the truth about Samantha. The rest wasn't as important as that. Sure, there were still cases we went on, but beyond that . . .

"We shouldn't have to give up everything to have something so simple," I said, holding your hand tightly. I felt the warmth stem from your fingers and move all the way through me. We were together again. No sudden storm created by that man could ever keep us apart for long.

"No, we shouldn't. But I still would," you said, pulling me into your arms. I wanted to cry or scream but I wouldn't let myself. No, not over anything that man did. He wouldn't get the satisfaction.

"Thank you," I whispered as you placed a kiss on my cheek.

"I somehow knew you were alive but I couldn't find you. You wouldn't let me find you. Do you have any idea what that feels like?" you asked and I laughed softly.

"I think I have a pretty good idea," I said, placing my hand on your cheek.

I explained it all already. About the tapes. They just never showed up and I'm sure he's to blame for that, too. I knew you believed me, but you were still upset.

"I wish I could give you what he promised. I wish I could heal everything that's wrong," you whispered, leaning down to kiss me. We lingered like that for a long time, closer together than most people know we are. Did C.G.B Spender have it all figured out? Did he know this is going on between you and me? Is it part of his master plan?

"We've got each other and I would never want you to give up everything. It makes you what you are, this childlike drive of yours to find the answers to all your questions," I said, getting more comfortable in your lap with my arms wrapped around your neck.

I breathed in the scent of you I had missed over the last few days. Yes, I left you behind this time, but I don't want to do it again. I also knew you couldn't make the same promises. Your penchant for wandering was too strong.

"Childlike?" you asked and I couldn't help laughing. "I don't know how to take that. My big, masculine ego is wounded now."

"I'll take care of that," I said, pulling your mouth close for another kiss, this one longer and deeper. How easily we fell into this pattern again, of you and me together as one.

You moved us around enough so I was straddling your hips, kissing you the whole time. My hands searched to make contact with you everywhere, needing this connection again. God, how I needed it.

Your hands slid my jacket off my shoulders and then started on the buttons on my blouse. I loved to watch your hands as your fingers expertly flew through the buttons, your masculine ego desperate to get to the prize underneath. You just didn't know that your face was covered in an expression of childlike wonder. You would never understand why I loved that part of you so much. Your eyes lit up when you removed my bra, tossing it to the arm of my couch.

"Stand up," you ordered, your voice thick with desire for me.

I did and you unfastened my pants, pulling them down with all my underclothes quickly. Your eyes glowed with eager anticipation as you ran your hand across my stomach, brushing quickly over the scar from the gunshot wound that would always be there. You pulled me close and placed tiny kisses down my abdomen, making me shiver from more than just cold.

Your hands parted my thighs and your fingers found your intended target quickly. I didn't want to blink. I just wanted to watch you.

"Feel good?" you asked and I sighed out a yes. It did feel so good. You knew me so well and nothing could ever compare to what we are now. Not the first time nor the second time. We knew each other then, but nothing like this. Never like this.

"Take your clothes off," I said, moving your hand away. I wanted to feel you inside of me. I wanted to come with my body wrapped around yours, not just standing like this in my living room.

I watched as you stripped down quickly, strewing your clothes all about. I didn't care. I just needed you.

"Come here," you said, your hands wrapping around my waist as you pulled me to you again. I was straddling you once again, feeling your erection brush against the outside of my sex. The sensation sent more shivers through me and I wanted you inside quickly.

Leveraging myself up with my hands on your shoulders, I let you slide into my body, feeling my muscles relax and give to accommodate you once more.

"You're always on top," you said, your thumbs brushing against my hardened nipples. You were right. I always was.

"And don't you forget it," I said, joking with you. You smiled as you bucked your hips up once. "You want to change positions?"

"Yes," you said, standing up. My legs wrapped around your hips and I held on to your shoulders as you supported me with your strong arms. We ended up on the carpet, with you on your knees and me on my back, my legs still wrapped around you, only a lot higher. A light sheen of sweat had formed over your body and across your brow and I watched as you wiped your hand across your forehead. You thrust in hard and deep, as far in as you could possibly go. Your eyes were on fire as you continued to bang into my body, rougher than usual. I didn't care. I trusted you with every part of me.

You grabbed my hand and put my fingers against my clitoris, motioning for me to touch myself. I did. I couldn't go fast enough for you, though and within minutes of beginning all this, you came inside of me. Powerful spasms rocked your body and you kept pounding until you were spent. You had claimed me back from him. For some reason, that was important to you.

"Keep going. Come for me," you told me, pulling out of my body and sitting back on your heels. I was bare before you with just my hand between my legs and your eyes all over my body. And I did what you asked me to do. My fingers played across my clitoris while I locked eyes with you, the intensity I found there so strong, it pushed me to that abyss faster. Soon, my body was shaking with tremors as strong as yours were.

As soon as my body became quiet again, you fell down beside me on the carpet, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

"Please don't ever leave me again . . ." you whispered. "I can't live without you."

My hand brushed across your chest, covered in sweat now from what we just did.

"I won't . . ." I said, rolling into your arms. . .

*Knock*

*Knock*

*Knock*

*KNOCK*

My eyes fly open as the adrenaline kicks in. My heart is racing and I can barely stand up out of bed. When did it get so hot in here? My hair is soaked in sweat and whoever is at the door is going to see quite a sight.

I look through to peep hole to find not only Nicole but Frohike, Langly and Byers standing behind her, each of the boys looking more anxious than the next. I can tell Nicole was out in the sun all day and she just looks pissed. It's like being visited by the big bad wolf and the three little pigs.

Opening the door, they rush me to get in and they all begin talking at once.

"Stop," I say, holding my hand out. "Nicole, what's going on?"

"I got home from a party and checked the e-mail Frohike here set up at the apartment. There was a message directing me to a page, so I gave the guys a call to make sure they were logged on to the same thing I was . . ."

"Wait? Why did you get the e-mail and not them or me?" I ask.

"We're still working on that, Agent Scully. It did only go to one box and that's the one with that exact number . . . the machine there is 325.890.454.2," Langly starts to explain and I just shake my head. "I'm sorry. That mail was somehow routed to go there and nowhere else. Either Nicole was meant to find it. Or you."

"Whatever. What was it?" I ask, and Frohike pulls several sheets of paper out from inside his vest.

"We all accessed it to find a camera focused on a room. The image only lasted for ten seconds but Langly managed to capture several. Here's the printouts," Frohike says, handing me the papers.

It is just a plain room. Utilitarian at best with a sink and toilet, almost like a prison cell. A lot like a prison cell. I flip through them quickly, my heart racing faster than ever.

The person in every one of the shots is clearly Mulder.

*************

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