Legitimate by BeduiniLegitimate by beduini (1/1) Rating: G Category: MSR Spoilers: Up to Vienen Archive: With my permission - beduini2@yahoo.com Notes at the end. Legitmate by beduini Among all of the possible choices in a single lifetime resides your point of view, and with little or no apparent stimulus your perspective can change without warning. You think you understand someone, a situation, a relationship, and the next thing you know it has evolved into something else entirely. When you're first partnered with another agent you have to trust him before you have a chance to know him. You have to accept on faith that his training and experience render him capable of making important life decisions. You have to accept the fact that your life is in his hands as much as you are responsible for holding his life in your hands. Upon that trust you build a partnership. Within that partnership you build a friendship. And then you realize one day, when you weren't paying attention, while you were looking elsewhere, that you have fallen in love with your partner. Your friendship evolves once again, becoming a relationship with a friendship within a partnership. You try to protect each other. Spooned together in the dark of an unsettling case, he speaks of all of the things you have lost through your job. When he is finished, you speak of all of the things you have found. You recognize that in the middle of the uncertainty and change surrounding you, this relationship...this partnership...is the one thing you do have, the one thing that gives your life value. It is the most significant event of your life and of your heart. And then you lose him. xxx Black scuff marks on dingy composition tiles that are not quite beige, not quite gray. Definitely not white. Rows of fluorescent tubes overhead, soft, diffused light painting the long corridor with a dim glow. Taped to the wall, a faded announcement regarding blood samples, dated 1998. Gray vinyl seats line one wall, where he and Scully sit, waiting to be called forward. This is where his attention lay. On the peripheral things. Scully exhales, the sound barely audible but the delivery enough to warrant a quick sidelong glance over at her. Under his scrutiny, her hand rests on the swell of her abdomen and her brow is slightly furrowed in thought. Lips pursed, her eyes focus inward. Quarters at Hotel Scully are getting tight. He is leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. His hands form a steeple in front of his lips, tapping, and he glances up at the institutional clock mounted on the wall. Ten minutes have passed. Across the hall, double doors are propped open to reveal a large room, a countertop dividing the work area from the entrance. Administrative workers cross back and forth on the other side, a relative hum surrounding them as they focus on their tasks, conditioned to avoid the gazes of the anxious visitors in the hallway. It will soon be five o'clock and two women chat amiably in the far counter, sharing a laugh. A young woman holding a piece of paper approaches the counter from across the room, her expression blank. "Dana Scully and Fox Mulder?" He quickly rises to his feet, glancing up at the woman who has called his name as Scully hauls herself out of her seat, knees bent to accommodate the extra girth. The woman's eyes pass over Scully quickly before she realizes her indiscretion has been observed, and she averts her gaze down to the paper in her hand. Placing a gentle palm on Scully's back, they approach the counter together. xxx All you want is to see him one more time. To hear his voice, the sound of his laughter. To feel his fingers press against the small of your back. All you want is to be in his presence, if only for a moment. All you want is to find him. But when you find him, it's too late. You have failed. You have let him down. You stand by as his body is placed in the frozen ground. You think about the little piece of him still residing inside of you and you want to crawl into the casket with him. Part of you died along with him, while the rest of you fights to keep going. Fights to make sure his life and death were not in vain. Somehow, you survive. xxx The last rays of sunlight paint the sky a pinkish hue as they exit the county building. A gust of cold wind blows over them from behind and he wraps a protective arm around her as she pulls her overcoat tighter around her middle. Across the street, inside the lobby of another county building, they are directed to the fifth floor. There is just enough reflection in the aluminum on the inside elevator door for their eyes to meet and hold briefly before looking away. There is an obscenity scratched into the metal. They ride in silence, one of the overhead lights in the elevator flickering sporadically. Scully seems to be staring at the word scratched into the door as if it were a foreign notion instead of an act of love and procreation. He wishes it didn't have to happen this way. He'd do anything for her - give her the world if he could. He knows she knows that. But he also wants her to know that he's doing this for himself as much as he's doing it for her and the child. He wants this, regardless of the circumstances that brought them here, regardless of the dull ambiance and impersonal handling of the details. The elevator stops and the doors open to another unremarkable hallway and a windowless door. They trudge up the hallway, his hand on the small of her back as before, stopping in front of the door. The name Rose Sposato is engraved on the placard just to the right. Scully glances up at him then back down the hallway toward the elevator as he raps loudly on the door. "Just a minute," a muffled female voice calls out on the other side. Scully's breath catches and holds a moment, then expels through her nose. This alone gives him an indication of how tense she is. There is a brief moment of panic as he wonders if she truly wants this. He wonders if she is acting or merely reacting. He dismisses the thought, knowing she is here with him because she wants to be. Once decided, her commitment is absolute. The door opens to reveal a middle-aged African American woman wearing a navy blue business suit with a gardenia corsage. "Dana Scully and Fox Mulder?" she asks warmly, her bright red lips stretching into a congenial smile. They return her pleasantry with affirmative nods and nervous smiles, passing through the doorway to join her in the gardenia scented room. xxx Parallel to your survival, he has also survived. Against all odds, against the tennents of nature and science, he clings to life in another hospital bed, no longer buried in the cold earth. You have hope, and you feel useful for the first time in months. You are a scientist and a medical doctor, and you can fight for him. You do everything in your power to keep him alive. Surgery, antibiotics, prayer. Desperate pleas to Jesus, God, all the angels and saints. The Virgin, Buddha and every other religious icon you can think of are called upon to help in the vigil. Mulder would be proud of how many names come readily to mind. Proud of how willing you are to believe if will help him in any way. Your prayers are answered. He pulls through. All should be right with the world...but you didn't anticipate the inevitable possibility that through all of the changes the two of you have suffered, your relationship would also be effected. It is yet another evolution in the constantly evolving framework of your partnership. You are pregnant. You assume that he must realize how this came to be. Who else would you trust with something this important? He has a brilliant mind, an Oxford-educated mind. He's capable of both complex formulas and simple math. He can recite a complete, annotated history of the mythological creatures of South America at a moment's notice. He tells you he's happy for you. You got your miracle. He tells you he doesn't mean to be cold or unfeeling, but he doesn't know where he fits in. You think he needs time to process all of the events that have led you both to this point. Without saying the words pregnancy or baby, he turns the focus back to your condition, to the way your life will soon change. As time passes and he becomes more accustomed to the way things are, he begins to refer to the child you're carrying as 'your baby'. All the while, he is excluding himself from the situation by what he is not saying. Your miracle, your life, your child. Yours. You keep praying. In fact, you never stopped. Soon, there is evidence that he is developing an interest in the fact that you are about to have a child. He brings you presents of personal significance and alludes to your pregnancy as a mysterious thing, as if you had pulled the pizza man into your living room one day and ravaged him in a moment of insanity. He shows his vulnerability when you pick up the pizza man joke and run with it. You smile, but you wonder where his logic has gone. Who else would you trust? You find a copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" on his coffee table. He shares information about fetal development and the process of childbirth. He begins to refer to the child as 'the kid' or 'the baby' instead of 'your baby'. You find your doctor's telephone number taped to the desk next to his telephone. All the while, the same question turns over inside of your head. Who else, Mulder? Who else? xxx "Do you want to pick up some dinner?" he asks as she buckles herself into the car like she's done a thousand times before. There's no reason why this would be any different, but he feels changed. There is significance in the smallest things now. He can still smell the gardenias. "Pizza?" she replies with a glint of amusement, and he grins in mock exasperation. They both appreciate the joke now, but that appreciation is short lived. There is a long silence where they just sit alone in the darkness. He doesn't start the car. "Seriously, Scully," he says softly, "Anywhere you want to go." She looks over at him with solemn eyes. He sees her fatigue. "Just take me home, Mulder." xxx You know he's figured it out when on a night not unlike a night you had shared before, he inquires about your long-term plans. You speak of your hopes and fears for your unborn child and he listens, adding commentary and asking questions, some of which you are not prepared to answer. You end up making love and he lets you know in pillow-soft tones that he wants to be a part of the child's life as much as he intends to be a part of your life. He's not certain he can live up to your expectations. You tell him his presence is all you ever wanted and confirm what he already knows but needed to hear. How could you do this with anyone else? You feel the evolutionary shift in your partnership once more, and the shift of the life evolving inside of you. Your relationship has become a commitment. xxx He used to think her feline, but lately she reminds him of a duck, her awkward hips shifting from left to right with each step. And yet, there is still grace in her movement. She doesn't feel she's graceful. Changed into a large cream colored cable knit sweater and a pair of cream colored leggings, she is more comfortable than she was in the suit, even though she is still experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions, which has plagued her most of the afternoon. Her abdomen tightens and hardens once more, causing her to blow out a slow, even breath as she crosses the threshold between the living room and bedroom. He follows her into his bedroom, where she lay on her side across his bed, her head resting on a pillow as she tucks another pillow between her knees. He thinks she is remarkably serene, considering. He doesn't think he would be as calm were their situations reversed. Her belly is as hard as a board as she strokes her hand over it, the rest of her body calm and still. His scent is on the pillow. Her eyes are closed and she feels his presence as he kneels beside the bed, then his soothing hand trailing down the side of her face. After a moment, she lets out a long breath and opens her eyes to his. "That was a strong one," he says, the tips of his fingers still touching her cheek. "Not too bad." She sighs, and closes her eyes once again. "Do you want me to call the doctor?" She pauses, drawing another deep breath. "No." She curls her fingers around his hand, pressing it closer against her cheek. He climbs over her legs onto the bed and snuggles up behind her, understanding the request in her gesture. She lets out another long sigh as his hand comes to rest over her round belly. He sounds worried when he asks, "How do you know this isn't the real thing?" "We've still got a few weeks before we have to worry about that." "But that's just an estimation, right? Every kid has his own schedule." "That's true, but trust me on this. When it's the real thing you'll be the first to know." He pulls up the hem of her sweater and slides his hand underneath to rest against her tight, warm skin. His fingers drum lightly against her solid abdomen. "Hi baby," he speaks to her tummy. Then he raises up onto his forearm, looking down into her face. "Scully, are you sure you didn't swallow my basketball by mistake?" She smiles. "If that's true, Mulder, then your basketball has grown arms and legs." She intertwines her fingers with his and moves his hand over and up until he feels a fluttering underneath. He grins, snuggling closer to her. "I think he's dribbling." She chuckles, and he moves their hands in small circles over her skin, causing her flesh to pebble and bringing on an involuntary shiver that doesn't escape his notice. "Did you know," he croons, his voice low and settling into a soft storytelling cadence, "in ancient England a person could not have sex without the consent of the King, unless you were in the Royal Family? When anyone wanted to have a baby, they hung a placard on the door while they were engaging in the activity. The placard was inscribed with four letters, which stood for Fornication Under Consent of the King. She glances over her shoulder, rolling her eyes for effect. "Mulder..." "No, Scully, despite its' popularity in elevators and comedy routines, it's a perfectly respectable word with a perfectly respectable origin." He presses his lips against her ear and lowers his head down next to hers on the pillow. "Whaddya say, wanna try to make another basketball?" This makes her smile, and she squeezes his hand. "I'm a little busy with Michael Jordan number one at the moment." The fluttering under their hands grows stronger, and then calms. They both focus on the sensation, temporarily awed and distracted. "Later?" Mulder asks absently, stroking his thumb over her skin. She pauses, then replies with conviction, "Yes." The baby moves again and he smiles, a wide, cheek-splitting smile. After a few more minutes, he raises up on his forearm once more and looks down at her with eyes shining, as if he'd just solved a case. "Hey Scully, we got married today." Her lips turn up in a slight, amused smile. "Yes, Mulder, we did." "That makes this our wedding night." He fingers the diamond ring he slipped onto her finger that afternoon. She raises an eyebrow at him. "That it does. Other than the obvious assumption regarding the wedding night, is there a reason why you mention this?" His eyes roam over her face, and he shakes his head slightly. She nods, closes her eyes then starts to turn her head away, but he continues, "it's just that..." he pauses, waiting for her full attention. Looking up at him, it is her turn to study the nuances of his face. "What?" He shrugs. "I know so much of our lives and our work is as uncertain as it ever was. What was done to you, what was done to me...we don't have answers. On top of it all, I'm unemployed now - I don't even have a job, and we have a baby on the way. Regardless, I'm just...I don't know...happier than I've been in a long time." Their eyes hold, and a soft smile turns up the corners of her mouth. She understands, and feels it just as strongly. "I know." He nods, and lays his cheek over hers, both of them closing their eyes with the emotion of the moment. "We'll work out the rest of it." With a sniff and a tight squeeze of his hand, she replies, "Yes, we will." Fin beduini2@yahoo.com http://www.justduckies.org/beduini Thanks to Rah for talking out the details, and to Sybil, Sagan and Lari for their encouragement. This is for you, Mellys, because I miss you. Good luck.