Calendar Girl II: Only You
by Jori

The search for Mulder takes on even more twists and turns. R

This story follows Calendar Girl II: Everything

**********

The Office of the Lone Gunmen
July 7, 2000
10:30 a.m.

"England?" I blurt out as the Gunmen keep presenting data to me. Nicole is pacing back and forth behind me and she's not helping matters any right now with her constant movement. I'm nervous enough.

"The location those images were sent from is in England, Agent Scully," Byers says calmly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "That might not mean he's there."

"They went through a lot to hide it, but we were able to trace it to the originating host. It goes back to a computer in Avebury, England," Frohike fills in. "But like Byers said, that's just the place we could trace back to. Not necessarily the place in the image."

I just shake my head, still stunned by this turn of events.

"Avebury? That's where Mulder was going to back in April. He had plane tickets for both of us. I . . . I didn't go. It was something about crop circles," I say, looking down at me feet while I still can. I remember how I passed on the whole thing, feeling it was too ridiculous.

"Avebury is better known for its manmade stone formations. It is one of the largest henges in England, but the stones aren't worked like they are at Stone Henge," Byers says, pulling up some images on his computer screen.

Nicole shakes her head and walks around to look at the monitor. "I don't see any crop circles."

"You wouldn't. There weren't any," I say. Mulder came home early because of that, looking sullen and disappointed. I remember clearly running into him outside of the hospital because at first I didn't think it was him. And the I remember even more clearly what followed later that night.

"Yes, there were. Quite a few," Langly says, speaking up from behind another computer. "Here, I'll show you."

"What do you mean there were?" I ask, getting up to go look at his monitor.

"See, right there. Those were formed in April of this year. Is that the date Mulder was over there?" Langly asks, pointing at the monitor.

"Yes."

I close my eyes, trying to figure this all out. Why would he lie about it? There would be no reason on earth . . . unless he never got to England. I'm sure he did. He showed up wearing that Stone Henge hat that's probably still lying around his bedroom somewhere.

"I think our first priority should be finding exactly where those images came from. Not from where they were sent, but what where that room is. Where Mulder is," Nicole says, stating the obvious. I open my eyes and look at her over the computer monitor. She's starting to look worn down from this. If she looks that tired, what do I look like?

"We've analyzed each of those images in every possible way. There's nothing in there that gives us any indication of where he might be," Byers says, bringing up the pictures on all the monitors. I resist the urge to reach out and touch Mulder's image. Everybody turns to look at me in unison to see what my reaction is going to be. I've spent so many hours now examining them myself that I can almost put myself in the room with him. I can imagine the smells and the sound of silence surrounded by all those cinder blocks. I can feel how lonely he must be. I can see that written on his face and it hurts.

There is just something out of place about the images and I can't quite put my finger on it. After all this time and for as many hours as I have stared at them, I should be able to place it by now. I'm missing something. I know I am.

"We have a meeting with Skinner in an hour," Nicole says, picking up all the folders and pictures and tucking them away. "We'll give him this latest news and see where he wants us to go with it."

"Don't forget your next doctor's appointment," Byers says as I head for the door.

"I won't," I assure him while Frohike opens all the locks. "Let me know as soon as you find out anything else about those pictures."

"We will," Frohike says, looking at me with sad eyes. "We're going to find him, Agent Scully. We're going to find him in time."

His eyes wander down to my mid-section. There isn't much there to see yet, but people who know can't help themselves. It is as if that what they are measuring their time by.

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

FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
11:35 a.m.

Skinner looks the pictures over and over, his face tensing up each time he flips to a new one.

"If Mulder's been in England since April . . ."

"I refuse to believe that, sir," I say, interrupting him. I refuse to believe it for a lot of reasons but most of all because I was with him. I spent my days with him. More importantly, I spent my nights with him. I will not believe that.

Skinner looks up at me and Nicole squirms in her seat. They both know what this implies. I've come face to face with . . . things that look like Mulder before, but I will not believe they could play masquerade so well for so long. I would know him anywhere.

"I think we have to find him. Find where this is and get him out of there. That's the only way we'll ever know," Nicole says. Skinner is still watching only me and there is something in his eyes that lets on that he feels sorry for me. I don't want anyone's pity. Even if Mulder has been gone since April, I don't want it.

"Is there anything I can do?" Skinner asks, sitting back in his chair.

"Get the people from accounting off of our asses and that might help," Nicole says in her typical blunt fashion. "Half the people doing most the work on this search are doing it for free. Agent Scully is bringing in some friend of Mulder's this afternoon to look at those pictures. Yet, every time we turn in a ten dollar expense, they refuse it."

"It's only going to get worse," Skinner says, his eyes moving away from both of us.

"Great," Nicole says with a soft snort. "That's all we need."

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

"Stop thinking it," Nicole says from across the doorway. I have the pictures on Mulder's desk and I was tracing over a his face with my finger. I look up at her and she gives me a smile. "It isn't true, so just stop thinking it."

"I'm not sure what the truth is anymore." I lean back in his chair and lace my fingers across my lower abdomen. This baby was my connection to him and now that might be taken away. I might not even know what this baby is now.

She moves across the room and, sitting down opposite from me, reaches for her cup of cold coffee. Nicole doesn't seem too particular how she gets her caffeine these days.

We both look up when someone knocks softly on the door. Chuck walks in and gives me a genuine smile. He knows that Mulder is missing, but he doesn't know about the baby. Not everybody needs to know.

"Dr. Charles Burk, this is Agent Nicole Larson. Nicole, this is . . ." I start to say, but Chuck stops me.

"Just Chuck, thank you. Nice to meet you, Agent Larson," he says, extending his hand out to her. He barely looks her over before focusing on the pictures before me. "Are those the ones?"

"Yes, they are," I say, handing them over. He flips through them slowly, examining each one slowly. Chuck is in his element with stuff like this and I just sit back and let him look.

"Not bad for coming off the net. I think I can sharpen them up a bit more, maybe get some more information from these shadows. Looks like some of the youth hostels I stayed at in Europe during my younger, carefree days," he says, smiling at the memory. Nicole jerks her head around to judge my reaction at those words and Chuck notices. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, not at all. We just really need to find out where that is quickly," I say, struggling to keep the slight quiver in my voice under control.

"I will get right on it, Agent Scully," Chuck says and I hand him a folder to put the pictures in. "If there's anything else I can do, please let me know."

"I will, Chuck. Thank you," I say, and he nods at Nicole before leaving us.

"Dana . . ."

"I know. He hasn't been there since April. He was here. I know," I say, trying hard to convince myself of that.

"Why would this Captain Lawton tell you he was close if he wasn't? Why would they have taken him then and . . . and, hell. I don't even know what to call it. Replaced? Why would they have replaced Mulder? What would their objective be?" she asks, staring at me.

I touch my abdomen again, hoping that this child isn't their objective.

"I don't know," I say softly. "I just don't know."

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

Scully's Apartment
July 7, 2000
9:45 p.m.

I stare the TV set for hours, not knowing what else to do. I go around the channels one more time, just hoping for some escape. The thought that this baby might not be Mulder's breaks my heart and I can't let myself go there just yet. If that is the case, then I will deal with it. I just want to believe for now that it is a part of him that I can hold.

That had to be him outside of the hospital wearing that silly hat and jacket. I turn off the TV and close my eyes, remembering that woman I first thought I saw, her blonde hair pulled back. I remember reaching out for her and she dissolved into Mulder. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. Didn't they? I'm so tired and my brain can't make much sense of it.

It was Mulder. I would know him anywhere. We could be apart for the next fifty years and I'd still know him. The way he smells. The way his footsteps sound. The feel of his hands . . .

I tried hard to stay awake. You were talking to me about how we ended up here after I ran into Daniel again and I just couldn't stay awake. I was so exhausted and I couldn't fight it.

You woke me up, sometime in the middle of the night, gently nudging me to go to bed. I said I should go home but you said I had to stay. It was too late to drive home and I was too tired. But I wasn't too tired for you. No, I was never that tired.

In your bed, your hands wandered over my body while your voice asked if I had any regrets.

"Do you, Scully?" you asked and I turned away. I had to turn away from answering that question.

"Everyone has regrets, Mulder," I answered and that seemed to keep you quiet for a few minutes.

"About us?" I heard you ask in the darkness, your mouth gliding over my skin and placing kisses here and there. "About your time with me?"

"No. Not yet," I said, regretting the words as soon as they escaped from my mouth. You pulled away from me and crawled up the bed until your face was even with mine.

"What do you regret?

"I regret . . . I should have had children when I had the chance and not cared so much about my damn career," I said. You just blinked at me and your mouth open and closed a few times before you could get the words out.

"And you wish you would have done that with this Daniel?" you asked, looking sad or hurt or something I couldn't quite make out. "Had his children?"

"I wish . . . for a lot of things, Mulder," I said, putting my hand on your cheek. "A lot of things I can't have back again. But that doesn't mean these things are your fault and regret doesn't do anyone much good."

"I wish for those things, too, you know. For you. I wish I could give them to you," you said, your voice barely a hushed whisper.

I was so tired it was like being drunk. I was intoxicated on the lack of sleep and the emotional roller coaster I had been on. And in that state, I wanted you no matter what the regrets I might already have or what ones might come in the future. They really didn't matter.

You took my clothes off and piled them neatly on the end of the bed while your hands explored even more. I let my knees fall apart as you moved in between my thighs, your tongue traveling upwards until you hit right there and I let out a little gasp. My hands searched for you in the moonlit room, my fingers sinking into your hair and pulling you even closer. I wasn't certain that was possible, you being closer to me or me being closer to you.

Far too soon, I felt something tighten in my abdomen and I knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer like this. I never was able to. Everything began to unwind but you didn't let up. Didn't stop until I was writhing under your tongue and the touch of your hands. I finally had to push you away, unable to take the sensations anymore. You look up at me, from between my thighs, your face still damp, and you smile. A smile that breaks my heart because I know you want to give me things you just can't and you think this is all you can give me. Pleasure. A few minutes of happiness.

But you're wrong. So very wrong.

The moment passed and I pulled you up to me. You slid into my body with such ease and familiarity I can't believe I ever thought about spending my life with someone else.

"Only you," I mumbled and you stopped moving. You stopped moving and stared down at me.

"Thank you," you said, struggling to get he words out. Struggling for some control. But you wouldn't be able to keep control for much longer. You started to pound into me and any sense of control you or I might have had was gone. I wrapped my legs around you, holding you close and it wasn't long before you lost any sense of rhythm you had. You were close and I clenched my muscles around you and that was it. The end or the beginning or something that felt so good I didn't want it to pass.

You collapsed on me and I could feel you gasp for air and I could feel my heart pounding as hard as yours surely was.

"I'd give you what he could have given . . ." you started to say, but I placed my fingers over your lips to silence you.

"I have to get up soon and go into the office early. Let's not talk about this anymore tonight," I said and you pulled me into your arms . . .

The phone rings, shaking me from my dreams. Damn it. Damn it again and again.

"Hello?" I answer, my voice unable to hide the disappointment I feel at having been roused from my sleep.

"Time travel."

"Frohike, what is this about?" I ask, turning off the television. That immerses my living room into darkness and I feel my tummy rumble in a new and unusual way. It makes me sit up and put my hand across the gentle flutter.

"Time travel. How Mulder could be here and there. You do understand some of the theories of time travel, don't you, Agent Scully?" Frohike asks and I want to question him on whether he's been drinking or not. Maybe the guys started the weekend early or just put the paper to bed and are celebrating.

"Yes, I understand the theories of time travel, Frohike. What does this have to do with anything?" I ask. I feel a little nauseous and I'm sure it would go away if I would just eat something. Instead, I'll oblige Frohike and listen to his latest theory on Mulder's disappearance. It won't be the first one I've sat through.

"Some believe in a theory that involves the quantum rules which govern the subatomic level of the universe. When the time traveler travels, he immediately creates a new quantum universe, in essence a parallel universe where the the original universe still remains," Frohike says and I still don't quite follow him.

"Yes, I know. Stephen Hawking believed he could explain the origin of our universe in a variation of this parallel worlds theme. But I'm not sure what that has to do with Mulder," I say, sitting up. My stomach churns even more. "We would be in one universe and he would be in another and I doubt they would be sending pictures from there let alone a web cam site."

"You never know," Frohike says.

"Frohike?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to bed. If you come up with anything else, please let me know. And tell Byers he doesn't have to call in the morning. I think I'm taking the day off," I say. I need a day away from all of this. A day for just me.

"Sure thing. You and the fetus take care."

With that he hangs up. Good thing, too, because I can barely make it to the bathroom before the vomiting starts.

*********

Scully's Apartment
July 8, 2000
9:25 a.m.

I try to ignore the knocking on the door for as long as I can. I really just want to sleep. I suppose whoever is on the other side thinks I'm in here dying of a broken heart. I'm not. What I am dying of is exhaustion.

Pulling on my bathrobe, I open the door to find Nicole standing there with bag of McDonald's take out in her hand. The smell is almost enough to make me run to the bathroom but I control it.

"Are you okay? I got your message at the office and I thought I'd check on you and bring you some breakfast," she says, holding up the paper sack. I just shake my head 'no' but let her in anyway. "Morning sickness?"

"All night, too," I say. She sets the bag down on the table and looks at it. "You can eat. That won't bother me. I'll just sit over here."

Nicole has an amazing metabolism. A little caffeine and a Big Mac and she's ready to go all night. I see that her breakfast habits aren't much better.

"I have some news from my one lead," she says, talking with her mouth full of Egg McMuffin. "That's the real reason I came over here."

"Really? What did you find out?" I ask, pulling my afghan over me. It's the middle of summer and I shouldn't be cold but with the lack of sleep and the vomiting all night, I can't help it.

She finishes the last bite of her food and walks over to where I am, sitting down in one of the chairs across from me.

"Time travel," she says. I narrow my eyes at her. There's no way she would have been anywhere near Frohike last night. I can't believe that Nicole would be anywhere near the guys no matter how many times they have begged and I'm sure Frohike has been warned more than once about calling her.

"Time travel?" I ask slowly, the words only a whisper.

"Yeah. Supposedly that's the experimental part of the plane that's the common link among all the crashes. The government . . ."

"Time travel?"

"I think I said that."

"You did."

"Anyway, the Department of Defense has been doing studies on time travel, supposedly because that's the only way we could get anywhere fast enough in space travel. Or something. I have a Master's Degree in criminology, not physics," Nicole says. She doesn't know she's the second person to suggest this to me in less than 24 hours so she has no idea why I look so stunned.

"Time travel is only theoretical and since there are so many . . ."

"I went through the files," she interrupts before I can get started, "and you and Mulder worked on a time travel case just a few years ago. The file was a mess, like it had been lightly toasted over a fire, but I could get enough out of it to know that it was about time travel."

"Yes. I remember it," I say, still just staring at her as she tries to put something together that just isn't possible. At least not possible where Mulder is concerned. He was here with me. Just him. There are no separate realities and universes. Just this one and he was here with me.

"I have a meeting with this source tomorrow afternoon. He's stationed at Naval Air Station Key West. Do you know how hot it is in Key West in July?" she asks. She pulls her long hair up and somehow twists it so it stays in a tight little knot.

"I have an idea how hot it is," I say, closing my eyes. Florida and California have been the two hot spots for cases this past year for us. I didn't really want to go back to either of them.

"You want to come with me?" she asks and I open my eyes to find her watching me intently. Next she's going to tell me it will be good for me to get out. "I could really use your help understanding what the hell it is they're talking about with all this time travel crap."

"Can we bring someone else along, too?" I ask.

"Not Frohike."

I just give her a smile.

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

The Green Iguana Bar and Cafe
Key West, Florida
July 9, 2000
12:48 p.m.

"He's supposed to meet us here?" Frohike asks as he peers around the darkened bar. Some man sits up on a tiny stage strumming his guitar and the whole place smells like smoke and sweat. I can't help coughing as a sudden wave of nausea washes over me.

"This is the place he told me he would be," Nicole replies, looking around for a table. Frohike scowls as she brushes past him, moving quickly to a dark corner of this establishment. Then again, this whole place is a dark corner. He looks at me and I just shrug my shoulders and we follow.

"How is he ever going to find us?" Frohike asks, looking over his shoulder at the small group of locals gathered here. It isn't anywhere near the main tourist destination but no one seems to be paying attention to us. How could we look out of place in a bar where someone has their dog sitting next to them on a bar stool?

"I gave him a vivid description of you. I'm sure he can't miss," Nicole says, staring Frohike down. They two of them have bickered like children on this whole trip. I put my hand up to stop Frohike's retort before it can even slip out of his mouth.

A young waitress dressed in a t-shirt and cutoffs comes over for our order. I only want a 7-Up, hoping it calms my stomach down. The flight here on the tiny puddle jumper was rocky as we flew through some afternoon storms blowing in. Add that to the bickering and my head is now pounding and my stomach isn't going to cooperate much longer.

We remain silent as the waitress returns with our drinks, putting some sort of tropical concoction down in front of Frohike. Nicole rolls her eyes at him.

"A virgin daiquiri? How fitting," she says and that just starts the next argument.

"Excuse me," someone says from behind me as they continue to squabble. We all turn around to find a young man of about 25 standing there in an at ease stance. His dark hair is buzzed in a military cut and even though he's wearing civilian clothes, it's obvious that he's military. "Are you Agent Larson?"

Nicole motions for him to sit down and he does, looking around suspiciously.

"I'm Agent Larson. This is Agent Scully and this is . . . Melvin Frohike," she says with a scowl. The man's eyes travel over all of us, trying to judge whether he can trust us or not, I'm sure.

"I'm Lt. Mark Plessinger," he says in nearly a whisper. We all nod, not knowing what he has to say.

"What do you have for us, Mark?" Frohike asks as he plays with the gloves on his hands even though it is 97 degrees outside today.

"Agent Larson was looking for information on something made by the Automated Applied Aerodynamics corporation. I have that information for you," he says, leaning in closer.

"Go ahead," I say, trying to put him at ease. It's not going to happen.

"I'm not sure how they make it exactly. All I do know is it is what all of those test flights were about. Trying out that little tiny piece of something. Every damn one of those flights supposedly crashed," he says and I hope he has more to give us than this.

"How many planes crashed all together, Lt. Plessinger?" I ask, waving the waitress off before she can make it over here. I don't need for him to be more nervous.

"Five. That was the first one that went down in Oregon. Most went down in Nevada or New Mexico. Some in Montana," he says, looking down at the table. He nervously pulls apart a bar napkin and balls up the tiny shreds.

"Does this component have something to do with time travel?" Frohike asks bluntly and we all stare at the Lieutenant, trying to gauge his reaction. There isn't much of one. He just shuts his eyes as his fingers continue to play with the small bits of paper. He opens his eyes again and stares at me.

"Theoretically, yes."

Now my stomach is more than just unsettled. It's practically doing flip flops.

"For what purpose?" Frohike asks. "I mean, I can think of some really cool reasons for wanting a military fighter jet with time travel capabilities, but considering it is all theoretical . . ."

"We stole the technology. Since it was broken, so to speak, when we found it, we are just now trying to figure out how to replicate it. To make it work. It's the only way we could keep up with 'them.'"

"Them who?" Nicole asks with a sigh. She doesn't believe most of this. I'm not sure I always do, either, but if it will get Mulder back one day sooner, I'll listen.

"Them. You know what I mean," he says, pointing up in the air. "Agent Scully, you really should know."

"The government stole this technology and now they have to figure out how to make it work in order for us to keep up with an alien civilization. That's intriguing," Nicole says with more than a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Why are you telling us this?" Frohike asks. If Nicole sounds skeptical, Frohike only sounds apprehensive.

"Too many of my friends have died flying those things. I was on the project but they noticed I was getting 'restless' with the lack of progress so I was shipped off here to this tropical hell," he says, swatting at an imaginary bug.

"What does this have to do with the abductions in Oregon?" I ask.

"That's the thing . . . most of the time the plane would be knocked out of the sky and most of the time, the pilot would be missing. Someone would tell the families they were dead, but there was never a body. This is the first time that any civilians disappeared from a crash vicinity. They were trying to analyze what was different this time but I got shipped off the project before they came up with anything," Lt. Plessinger says, looking disappointed. I'm not sure what he's more disappointed in. His sudden career change or the fact that the government was doing this all in the first place.

"But with time travel, they could bring them back to anywhere. At any time," I say, a tiny glimmer of hope showing through my voice.

"Theoretically, yes," Lt. Plessinger says again and I stare at him.

"Stop saying that," I say and he goes on.

"They could be here and there and . . . it really is hard to comprehend," Lt. Plessinger continues. I look to Frohike but he just shrugs. "We don't even fully comprehend what it is capable of yet."

"Then why are you using it?" Nicole asks.

"We have to keep up. It's the space race of the new millennium, so to speak," he says with a weak chuckle.

"And it's killing people," I say but he doesn't say a word. No one does.

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

"I can't believe this," Nicole says, walking away from me. The street is crowded with people and the smell of coconut oil permeates the air. That and the heat makes me want to gag.

"What part can't you believe?" I ask and she stops, places her hands on her hips but doesn't turn to look at me.

"We're stealing technology from aliens? It's killing people?"

Frohike finally catches up with us but he doesn't say a word. Just stands behind me. People pass us on the narrow sidewalk and some turn to stare on their way by.

"I've seen stranger things," I say, wiping the sweat from my brow. I want to throw up. I want to get out of this heat. I just want . . . want everything to be back to the way it was.

"Time travel . . . I can accept the government is working on that . . ." she starts, throwing up her hands in the air. "But I don't know what else to believe in beyond that. One person tells us Mulder is nearby. Then we get these images and now this guy tells us he could be here and there. I'm not sure how to put the pieces together anymore."

"We need to stop trying so hard," Frohike says from behind me and we both turn to look at him and I'm sure I have an expression of shock on my face. Frohike, Byers and Langly have been working just as hard as anybody on finding Mulder. I can't believe he's saying this. "We need to figure out all the pieces and stop chasing something that might not be real. Plessinger said he'd find out more about this component and get back with us tomorrow."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" I ask, feeling trapped now. I'm on some scrap of land with no where to go and no way to find Mulder.

"How about get some sleep?" Nicole says and I can feel the tears of utter exhaustion begin to trickle down my face. "One day of sleep won't hurt."

I want to fight them but I know I can't. I can't keep going like this. None of us can.

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

Atlantic Isles Beach Resort
Key West, Florida
July 9, 2000
6:51 p.m.

From my balcony, I watch the sun begin to set, filling the sky with more shades of pink and orange than I could ever count. It wasn't that long ago that we were down here, Mulder and I, running away from the new millennium and the zombies it brought with it. And now I'm here alone.

Or almost alone. My hand runs over my stomach, feeling for a sign that isn't there yet. I want his hands to be touching me, to be feeling for this child. I want his hands to search for that tiny swell or the first kick the outside world can feel. I want him here with me and just the thought makes the tears flow. I shouldn't cry. I'm a damn FBI agent who's been through a lot worse than this.

No I haven't. There is nothing worse than this except for losing the baby, too. That is even more unimaginable than the thought of never finding Mulder. I watch as a happy couple wanders off towards some sunset party, laughing and holding on to each other as they go. Probably on their honeymoon or maybe their first vacation away from the kids in years. I can't tell. All I know is they're a whole lot happier than I am now.

My room phone rings and I hurry in to get it. Nicole and Frohike both said they weren't going to bother me tonight unless it was an emergency. I hope this isn't an emergency.

"Hello?" I say rather hesitantly into the receiver.

"Agent Scully?" the voice says and I feel my chest tighten as I recognize the voice of A.D. Skinner.

"Yes. Is there a problem?" I ask and he doesn't say anything for a few seconds too many.

"I think it would be best if you and Agent Larson caught the next flight out of Miami to London. There's something there I think you're going to want to check into."

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

To be continued... Feel free to continue the story in your own mind.

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