AN: Here we go, the last chapter of my "what if" rewrite of "Aubrey."

If you read, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Mulder knew, in his gut, that a confession and first discussion of something as serious as a pregnancy should have come with something more. There should have been candlelight. There should have been a nice dinner. Maybe Scully would have wanted to share the news with Mulder in some perfectly designed and executed way. Maybe, in some poetic world, Mulder would have taken a knee to propose to Scully.

Instead, it had happened like most everything else had happened in their lives—surrounded by the mystery of their current case.

Scully was a good sport about it, though, and if she'd felt that anything about the confession had been spoiled or ruined, she hadn't mentioned it. She'd dived directly back into solving the case in front of them, and she hadn't let up.

It had been Scully that had figured out that Linda Thibedeaux, who had been raped by Cokely in 1945, had given birth to Cokely's illegitimate child. She had pressed the woman about it, and Thibedeaux had confessed that, upon finding herself pregnant with the child, she hadn't known what to do. Her husband had tried to convince her to forgive the child for his father's sins, and for them to simply raise the child as their own, but she'd known that she couldn't do that. Instead, she'd given the child up for adoption, and she'd decided that she wanted to know nothing about what became of him. It was easier that way, for her. It was the only way she could live with what had happened to her.

Both Scully and Mulder had felt like they were getting closer to something. Cokely had a child, somewhere, and it was entirely possible that it was that child that had attacked B.J. and had murdered the recent victim. They had no explanation for the visions, but at least they had some possible explanation for B.J.'s positive identification of a young Cokely.

Mulder put in a call to the adoption agency to get the records that could identify the child that Linda Thibedeaux had given up for adoption, and could give some information about his whereabouts, and Scully had gone to take care of the autopsy—an autopsy which turned up nothing out of the ordinary and only confirmed for them that the killer was either Cokely himself, which seemed highly unlikely, or a copycat killer.

The records they'd ordered would have to be found, and the DNA testing they're requested would have to be done. Aubrey, Missouri was a small town and things worked slowly there. They accepted that they would have to simply wait things out, and both of them had gotten some fitful sleep that had left them both awake and exhausted at a very early hour.

Mulder slipped out of the room while Scully was in the shower and returned with coffee in hand. She'd thanked him as he'd offered her the paper to-go cup.

"You know," she mused, sipping the coffee while she sat on the edge of the bed they never used, and whose covers they destroyed every morning for the benefit of the cleaning lady, with her hair damp and her bathrobe partially open, "I'm not supposed to be drinking caffeine."

Mulder smiled to himself, reminded of the little secret that they were simply not talking about because they were too overwhelmed with everything else they had to sort.

"Good thing I knew that," Mulder said, sitting on the other bed, facing Scully. "It's decaffeinated. And, so you didn't have to suffer alone, mine is decaf, too. Cheers."

Scully smiled to herself and touched her cup to his, accepting the silly toast and indulging him. Mulder rubbed at his eyes. They felt grainy from the spotty sleep they'd gotten the night before. It was going to be a long day if he had to forego caffeine entirely, but he could do it in solidarity with Scully. It was, after all, his child that was robbing her of her right to guzzle down a few cups of coffee before eight.

"I know we haven't talked about it, Mulder," Scully said, "but…I guess I should say that I haven't had much time to think about it, and I don't want to pressure you in any way because I know this wasn't planned but…I'd like to keep the baby." She shook her head at him. "If you're not comfortable with things, then I'm entirely comfortable telling everyone that the father was some—man I knew."

Mulder raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

"You want my son or daughter to be illegitimate?" Mulder asked.

He saw her cheeks flush pink.

"You want it?" She asked.

"I'll be honest with you, Scully," Mulder said. "I haven't had much time to think about it and iron out the details, and it wasn't planned, but I already told you I love you, and I meant that. So, I do want it. If that's all right with you."

Scully smiled to herself. She covered over the smile by drinking from the paper cup.

"I like that," she said. "I love you, too. I guess that's all we need to know for now. There's time to—to iron out all the other details, as you say."

There certainly wasn't much time for them, then. The phone rang almost immediately, and Mulder answered it. He listened to what the deputy on the other end of the line had to say, and then he hung up the phone.

"That was one of the deputies. Brian Tillman's wife was attacked last night. She's in the hospital. Alive, but unable to name her attacker. She's got the same carvings."

"No news from B.J. about a vision this time," Scully said.

"No news yet," Mulder said.

"I don't trust the visions if I hear about them only after the murders and attacks take place," Scully said. "It's too easy to see something and say 'I knew that would happen.'"

"I'm inclined to agree with you," Mulder said. "I'm going to hop in the shower. See if I can't—clear my head a little bit."

Mulder was frustrated with the speed at which things were being returned to them. He knew that they could expect little else, but another attack only pointed to the possibility of another on the horizon. The longer they went without figuring out was happening, the greater the chance there was that another body would be found.

Beyond the murders and attacks, Mulder had a great deal more on his mind. He stood under the hot water and pondered things while he waited for any indication that the sleepy town of Aubrey was going to provide them with any of the information they needed.

He and Scully were talking about it now—a baby. They were having conversations about a future and, though neither of them knew exactly what that future might look like, it was clear that they were in it, and they were in it together.

When Mulder got out of the shower, he found Scully mostly dressed and scrambling to finish getting ready.

"Get dressed," Scully said. "We don't have much time."

"Much time for what?" Mulder asked.

"We got a call from the lab. The blood from the murder victim, and the blood from B.J.'s attacker came back as a genetic match for Cokely on several markers," Scully said.

"You're telling me that Cokely—decrepit old man, Cokely—is responsible for the murder and two attacks in the past forty-eight hours?" Mulder asked. It was impossible to believe.

"That's what I would be telling you," Scully said, "except I also got a call from the adoption agency. Apparently, they were trying to reach me the whole time I was talking to the lab and the motel doesn't have call waiting. It turns out that the child that Linda Thibedeaux gave up for adoption was B.J. Morrow's father."

Mulder was almost dressed, himself, and he had already accepted that both of them were going to go into their day a touch more disheveled than they would normally like.

"But he's dead," Mulder said. Suddenly, it struck him, before Scully even had to say a word. "B.J. would share Cokely's DNA. And if what that article you were talking about the other night says is true, then it's possible that these visions are part of some sort of inherited psychological information." Another layer of realization slammed into him as he grabbed keys and followed Scully outside, stopping only long enough to lock the motel room door before heading for the car. "That would mean that B.J.'s the murderer and the attacker."

Scully didn't speak until they'd gotten into the car.

"It would also mean that she's uncovering everything that Cokely's done, but she's got a new set of victims," Scully offered. "I believe she's trying to wipe away everything that has anything to do with Cokely, first and foremost. I think the first place she'll be driven to go is to Linda Thibedeaux's house. She was the only living victim of Cokely's, and it would stand to reason that she might have some genetic drive to finish what Cokely started."

Mulder needed no further prompting. He cranked the car and started in the direction of the woman's house.

"We should notify Brian," Mulder said.

"I already made the call," Scully said. "The moment I connected everything. They'll meet us there."

"But what about the new victims?" Mulder mused. "What's driving B.J.'s choice of new victims?"

"I can't be certain. It could just be a result of psychosis. Her selections could be random."

"But that's not what you think."

She's distraught," Scully offered. "Distressed. Whatever you want to call it. All of this started with her pregnancy. It's possible that the pregnancy, itself, was some kind of catalyst for the visions, compulsions, and psychosis. Brian Tillman might have more answers than we have, but her attack of his wife makes it clear that—it might be something related to the pregnancy. Maybe, if we knew a bit more about the politics of Aubrey, Missouri, we might have a little more knowledge of how the female murder victim fits into B.J.'s pregnancy drama."

"That means Brian might be in danger, too," Mulder offered.

"More than likely," Scully ceded.

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Linda Thibedeaux had been shaken up, but unharmed when they'd arrived. At first, she'd found it difficult to put together any kind of coherent words about what had happened. Mulder and Brian had searched the house, while Scully had gotten the old woman off the floor and helped her to a place where she could sit comfortably and rest.

Finally, she'd told Scully that B.J. had been there, and that she'd had a razor blade like the one that Cokely had clearly preferred when he'd been on his own spree. It had seemed that she'd been intent to finish what Cokely had started, just as Scully and Mulder had suspected. Linda claimed to have pleaded with her, begging for her life, and had identified B.J. as her granddaughter. That had only seemed to anger B.J. more—something that Scully considered a strong indication that some of B.J.'s personal contributions to her psychotic states were related to her feelings about her illegitimate pregnancy and, perhaps, illegitimate pregnancies in general—and she'd moved in to murder the old woman.

In the end, it was the carving that had stopped her. Linda Thibedeaux said that B.J. had been distraught, upon seeing that the carving on her chest matched her own—clearly something she'd done to herself, now that they knew the truth, during some kind of psychotic episode—and she'd loudly declared that he had to stop. He had to be stopped.

The brief interview with Linda Thibedeaux had been informative enough that they'd left her in the care of a deputy, and they'd all rushed to Cokely's house, convinced that the old man was likely the next victim of B.J. She would want to end this and, in her mind, she would be convinced that the only way to put a stop to it all would be to murder Cokely.

At Cokely's house, Mulder had been out the car before Scully, and before Brian. While Scully had done a quick walk around the house to check to see if they might find B.J. outside, and while Brian had checked her vehicle and the small shed behind Cokely's house, Mulder had gone directly inside.

The moment that Scully had been sure that B.J. wasn't outside, she'd known the woman must be inside. She'd rushed into the house, with Brian close behind her, determined to offer whatever backup she could to Mulder.

She'd gotten there in time to see Mulder on the floor with B.J. on top of him—the blade against his throat.

Scully's heart slammed down into her stomach as her stomach came up like it intended to try to escape through her throat.

"Freeze! FBI!" She yelled, falling back on knee-jerk reactions and instinct. She eased closer. There was something desperate clawing inside of her that wanted B.J. away from Mulder—far away from him. She wished she could barrel toward the woman and simply knock her away from him. The blade was too close to his throat, though, and there was every bit as good a chance that she'd cut Scully's throat in a fight as there was that she'd cut Mulder's on the ground.

"You think you can just get away with it?" B.J. yelled, clearly going through an episode that she was acting out with Mulder. "You think you can just—throw them away? Do what you want and…never pay for it?"

"Let him go, B.J.," Scully called out. She cast a glance in Brian's direction as he eased over to try to get a look at Cokely on the floor. B.J. glanced back at Brian, looked back at Mulder, and screamed at him in frustration.

"It's your responsibility, too!" She snarled. "It's not all on me. I'm not going to be responsible. Not by myself. You're going to pay, too!"

Scully only took in a few of B.J.'s words as she threatened Mulder. She only needed to take in a few of them. She was quick to unravel what she imagined was taking place in the episode that was currently playing out in B.J.'s mind. Brian's presence was problematic. B.J. might be seeing him in Mulder or, even just knowing about Scully's pregnancy, she might be projecting her frustrations with Brian on Mulder.

"Let him go, B.J.," Scully said. "He's one of the good ones, B.J. He is. He wants to take responsibility. He wants to be responsible. He doesn't want to pass that off on anyone else. He doesn't want to put that on anyone else's shoulders—not the responsibility or the blame. Let him go, B.J. Please."

B.J. was clearly fighting with Scully's words as they conflicted with whatever was going on inside her. Scully stepped carefully closer to the woman. She could see a trickle of blood on Mulder's neck. She'd nicked him, but one wrong move and she would cut his throat. If Scully fired on her, there was a chance that she would kill Mulder in her death throes.

Scully saw Brian, after a quick glance, indicate that Cokely was dead. He stepped away from the body, and thankfully, put himself out of B.J.'s line of sight entirely.

"Let him go," Scully continued to urge, watching her tone. "He's gone, B.J. Cokely's gone. He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt anyone. And we can get you help. For you. For your baby. But Mulder is not who you think he is. He's one of the good guys, B.J. He's not who you think he is. And you don't have to do this anymore…"

B.J. glanced back toward Cokely's corpse and then back at Mulder. Then she relaxed. She moved the blade away from Mulder's throat. She rolled off of him. Brian stepped forward, quickly, as his backup arrived and rushed into the house. Scully let them take B.J. She let them handle that situation. She dropped down on her knees, immediately, next to Mulder and pressed her fingers against the nick at his neck. She was relieved to see that it was so minor that it stopped bleeding, immediately, under even the slightest bit of pressure.

Mulder, slightly overcome from the ordeal, leaned his head against Scully's chest.

Her stomach churned, only slightly, over the step she was about to take. But Mulder had said that he wanted this, and she knew that she wanted this, and she was overcome for the moment. Scully tipped Mulder's head up with the hand that had brushed away the light trickle of blood, and she pressed her lips to his. She didn't deny him, either, when he deepened the kiss.

And neither of them offered any explanation to Brian Tillman, or any of his deputies, when they broke the kiss only to begin filling the lawmen in on the details that they'd missed about the case—details that had helped Scully and Mulder put it all together.

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"Give me your bag," Mulder said, reaching his hands out in Scully's direction as he stopped by their seats.

"You don't have to do that, Mulder," Scully said.

"Put your bag in the overhead compartment?" He asked, amused. "I do, actually. They require it."

"I mean—you don't have to do things for me because I'm…pregnant," she said. She added the last word in a lower voice because she still wasn't accustomed to saying it. It still made his stomach do a strange little move when she said it. "I don't want you to coddle me."

"I'm not," Mulder said, laughing to himself. "I'm doing it because you're five foot three. Go ahead and sit down."

Scully relinquished her bag, despite her protests, and sat down. Mulder sat beside her, as soon as the bags were secure, and settled in for the short flight.

After a moment of sitting there, he dared to reach his hand over and take Scully's hand in his. They'd decided that, when they returned, they would make an announcement about their relationship, and the resulting pregnancy, so that the bureau couldn't suggest they were attempting to keep it a secret for any reason. Then they would continue with business as usual, as far as the FBI was concerned.

The rest, they'd work out together. Mulder had a good feeling, though, that things were going to work out well for all of them.

"Hey—I know you probably haven't started thinking about it, yet," Mulder offered, "but what do you think about Aubrey? If it's a girl?"

"You're serious?" Scully asked, staring at him.

He smiled at her.

"It's a nice name," Mulder said.

"I never want to think about Aubrey again," Scully said with a sigh. She sat back, closing her eyes. "This has been a nightmare."

"I wouldn't say it's been all bad," Mulder offered.

"I thought she was going to kill you," Scully said, opening her eyes and looking at him sincerely. "I just—want to forget about this place. And this case. It's closed. Let's just…put it behind us."

Mulder swallowed back a little amusement at the thought that crossed his mind. He wondered whether or not some of Scully's feelings might be driven by hormones. If she considered him loading her bag in the overhead as coddling, she was probably not in the mood to have him discussing her hormones, so he kept the thought to himself. Instead, he dared to raise her hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss on her knuckles.

"I don't mind forgetting about B.J. and the possibility of inherited trauma and psychosis," Mulder offered. "But I'm always going to have a soft spot for Aubrey, I think. That's why I suggested that we at least consider the name. After all, it's the place where…you told me that I'm about to have the most important job of my life."

A faint smile played at Scully's lips. She looked straight ahead, focusing on the back of the seat in front of her.

"It's not a terrible name, Mulder," she offered, meeting him somewhere in the middle, as she always did.

They had plenty of time to figure things out, of course, but at least they could agree on one thing. They were in this together.