Title: Contact Summary: It was all we needed today
Summary: It was all we needed today
Today isn't a good day.
Something isn't right, and it is the absolute worst feeling in the world knowing that I can't help him. Knowing that me, his own mother, doesn't know what's wrong.
I've tried everything. He's not hungry, he's not wet, he's not sick.
I'm new at this. As new as they come. I've gone so far as to even call my own mother. Hell, she's on her way over right now.
"Please stop sweetie, please," I beg my son, tentatively reaching down to touch him. Trying to make some sort of contact.
He won't have it.
He swats my arm away, his face slowly turning a bright shade of pink, then red.
Suddenly he lets out the most ear-piercing shriek I've ever heard, and thrashes his arms and legs wildly above him. Frozen to the spot, I can only watch as his chubby left leg comes in contact with the oversized bottle of baby powder, already balanced precariously on the edge of his changing table.
As if in slow motion, I watch as it tumbles to the ground, spilling its contents in every possible direction and directly onto the new, bright blue carpet of William's nursery.
For a split-second, all I can hear is silence. William's wailing has stopped, and he begins to breathe ragged, uneven breaths.
I know he's trying to make sense of what happened, just as I am.
I stare down at the mess on the floor, and then lift my gaze back up to my baby lying stiffly on the changing table.
Without skipping a beat, I take hold of my son and lift him off the changing table. I can feel him relax slightly in my arms. I want to hold him. I want to hold him so badly it hurts.
But I can't.
I don't know why, but I can't. Not right now.
Numbly, I release him and place him in his crib. The look he gives me tugs at something deep inside, but I continue to back away. I close my eyes tightly, trying to block his gaze. Trying to ignore the need in his eyes and hoping he'll ignore the need in mine.
I keep backing up.
I crash into the door to Will's nursery. I brace myself for his reaction to the sound.
All I hear is a tiny gasp.
Tears brimming, I fly out of the room and find myself in the kitchen.
Pots and pans are piled up in the sink, and empty cartons of Tropicana peek out from the overstuffed recycle box.
Mulder hates dishes.
I silently wonder why he had to choose today to begin to begin his search as to why Will was as perfect, healthy and human as he was. Sometimes I wonder why he needs to know, and then I realize that this is Mulder I'm talking about.
I will always be content in knowing that William is a miracle. I don't need to know why, or even how. I already know how. And so does Mulder.
But Mulder will never be content with just knowing, and I've accepted that. But I need him right now. And I think William needs him too.
I begin to haphasardly scrub the dirty dishes. I scrub harder and harder until my hands hurt. I wince painfully, but continue to obsessively rub the dish rag over and over the same spot. I inhale a sob, realizing that the dishes aren't becoming cleaner. This causes me to scrub even harder.
Finally, I throw down the dish rag and hurl the filthy pot across the room. It hits the wall with a bang and tumbles to the floor.
I stare at it for a few seconds, horrified.
I run my hands through my hair and stagger backwards, out of the kitchen. I hear the door open, and relief soars through me.
"Mom!" I cry, whirling around and flinging myself into the foyer. "I've never been so happy to see--"
I freeze instantly when I realize it is not my mother standing in the doorway.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Is William all right?"
I break down. I just collapse. Mulder manages to catch me before I hit the floor.
He always does.
To feel his arms around me instantly makes me want to stand up and fight. But I don't. I continue to crumble.
I cry sheepishly in his arms, wracked with a sorrow I can't understand.
I sob for a while and Mulder holds me. I feel his face in my hair and his warm breath on my neck.
Shakily, I begin to stand up, and he holds my arm steadily.
I look up at him, my whole body trembling. I'm sure I'm quite the sight.
Mulder sees through me, and it's as though he already understands what went wrong. He grasps my hand and steers me out of the foyer. He drops his briefcase on the floor and walks with me towards William's nursery.
He glances into the kitchen for a split second, noticing the dirty pot lying on the floor. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even look twice. He simply continues to pull me, almost reluctantly, toward our son's bedroom.
We find William wide awake. I'm not really surprised. I find it hard to believe anyone, let alone a newborn baby, would be able to sleep with the kind of racket that was going on.
"Hey buddy," Mulder murmurs, releasing my hand and walking over to the crib. I selfishly want to grab it back again, wanting to feel the warmth of his hand in mine.
I stop myself, as I watch Mulder work his magic.
William follows Mulder closely too, with those bright hazel eyes of his, unsure of his father's intention. Mulder slowly reaches down and pulls his son out of the crib, placing him comfortably on his chest.
William instantly relaxes, and rests his head on Mulder's strong chest. His tiny eyes peer into mine. I continue to stand in the doorway, wanting to run, but find myself completely and absolutely frozen to the spot.
I can't take my eyes off the sight in front of me. It's almost hypnotic. As if in a trance, I walk over to them both and wrap my arms around them.
William coos, his eyes still fixated upon me. Mulder sighs contentedly, and strokes my hair softly.
"We're okay, Scully. You know that, right?" All I can do is nod.
I know we are.
I guess I just need that little reassurance once in a while.
And this is definitely it.
From a distance, I hear the front door open, and my mother's calm voice call.
"I'm in here, Mom," I call, my voice breaking slightly.
I hear her muffled footsteps become louder and louder as she finds her way to the nursery.
The three of us don't move to greet her. We stay the way we are, and she looks on and smiles.
She smiles comfortingly before turning on her heel to leave.
"We love you, Scully," Mulder whispers, as William's tiny fingers graze my cheek.
I kiss my son's forehead, and Mulder's lips softly in reply.
It was all we needed today.